“Gregory,” Karin said.
I hit the horn again. The brake lights on the car ahead of me turned off, the driver apparently waking up. But then they turned on again.
For Christ’s sake. Now I hit the horn continuously.
“Gregory! Stop it!”
Finally, the car moved up to the gate and whoever was driving pulled out. I drove forward, and felt in my tuxedo for the parking ticket. Of course I didn’t have it. Karin had driven.
“Do you have the parking ticket?”
“No, I gave it to you.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shouted.
She recoiled, her face suddenly reflecting … intense sadness. Fear. And I deflated, the anger rushing out of me.
“Shit,” I muttered. “I’m sorry.”
“If you don’t have your ticket it’s thirty-two dollars,” the attendant said.
“Fine.” I passed over two twenties and drove on.
We were silent as I pulled into the slow, lifeless traffic around Symphony Hall. We weren’t going anywhere any time soon.
It was 1.9 miles home. I could walk it in twenty minutes, up Huntington to Saint James, across the Common to Beacon Hill and I was home. It looked like the drive was likely to take an hour tonight, and this was one night when I didn’t need that. But there was nothing I could do.
We made it a block, ten precious quiet minutes, before she spoke again.
“How long have you been sleeping with her?” she asked.
I frowned. “It doesn’t matter.”
She shuddered. “Yes. It does. Did … did you sleep with me? After?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“I hate you. You took my life.” It showed in the empty inflection of her voice.
I sighed. “If you must. If it makes it easier for you.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Karin,” I replied. “I ... I’m sorry. I wish I’d done it differently. I wish ...”
“What do you wish?” she asked, her voice laden with disgust. “That we’d never married?”
I shrugged. “It would have been wiser.”
“Because now I’m a big fucking inconvenience for you, aren’t I?”
Traffic stopped again. Huntington ran under a bridge near the front entrance to Symphony Hall. I leaned my head against the steering wheel, frustrated and angry and wishing I could be anywhere else on earth.
“It’s not a matter of convenience,” I said to the steering wheel. “We haven’t been happy. We don’t want the same things.”
“Married couples compromise, Gregory. That’s what it’s all about.”
I straightened up. “Compromise, yes. But you don’t give up who you are. You don’t give up everything about you.”
She shook her head and turned away. “And you think she’ll be any different? That she won’t expect you to be a husband? Instead of a robot who plays the cello and sleeps and looks at me like I’m not even here?”
I winced. Because the first thought that ran through my head was, Savannah would be worth that change. I didn’t have any problem envisioning changing my schedule, giving up eighteen-hour practice days. In fact, when I thought of Savannah, I thought of us … improvising ... live in front of an audience. I saw us laughing. I saw her hair, splayed out on my pillow. I saw … love.
I glanced away from Karin, twisting my grip on the wheel again, and looking at the traffic ahead, which wasn’t moving at all. And my eyes trended upward, up to the overpass.
I tried not to gasp. I tried to hide my reaction. But standing on the overpass, looking ... lost ... was Savannah. No more than fifty feet away, but it might as well have been ten miles. Her eyes were sad, her face lined with grief.
She turned away and faded into the crowd like the beautiful mirage she was.
If I’d known then it would be the last time I saw her? I’d have gotten out of the car, leaving Karin behind, and chased her down. But as it was, I saw her turn her back and disappear, and my heart broke as she walked away. But I knew I had every intention of finding her, the next day or the day after that. But first, I had to deal with Karin.
“It’s not about her, Karin. It’s about us.”
“Bullshit!” she screamed. “If you hadn’t spent the summer sleeping with her, you wouldn’t be asking me for a divorce! You are so full of shit!”
“You want to fucking lay money on that, Karin? You lied to me about trying to get pregnant. What were you going to say if it worked! Oops?” My voice came out in a roar that filled the car, and I immediately recoiled, even as part of me took immense satisfaction in letting out all of the rage I’d felt.
Another car behind us honked their horn, and I heard a voice with a thick Boston accent shouting obscenities from up ahead. Then we inched forward five feet, and everyone came to a stop again, and Karin said, “If you weren’t such a selfish coward … I gave up everything for you.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I shouted. “You gave up exactly nothing.”
“I gave up children!” she shouted.
I didn’t answer, just slammed my fist into the door. And then my phone rang.
Savannah
Most of the VIPs … and Gregory and Karin, left in a hurry, leaving all remaining eyes on me. I quickly made my way to Joseph, who was still staring at the space vacated by Gregory, confusion rippling across his face.
“I’m sorry that happened, Joseph …” I trailed off, shaking my head. “Thank you for the opportunity this summer. I’m … I’m sorry,” I said again, giving him a quick hug.
“No worries, Savannah.” His reaction surprised me. He grinned and shrugged. “Musicians can be quite … passionate, you know.”
I did. I gave him another hug before turning to Nathan, who, thankfully, didn’t seem to be bleeding. I just needed to get out of there. Brushing past him, he grabbed onto my wrist.
“Savannah.”
“No,” I cracked sharply.
“I’m sorry.” He looked up at Christine as he sat, holding a bag of ice to his swollen cheek. She sighed and shook her head with a mix of emotions playing across her face.