As we reached the crescendo I looked into her eyes and found her looking right back. I sucked in a quick breath, trying to keep it quiet while my head felt light, my hands now playing the notes on the cello on instinct. Her face was flushed, eyes wide and watering, and I felt as if we had moved closer together in that room. Our bodies were the same distance apart as they were when we’d started, but something had changed between us. She hadn’t simply just become my musical peer. There was something more humming in the vibrato between our bodies.
I almost stumbled when she shifted the melody, changing the rhythm and dynamics several times on the fly. My brows pulled together and I adjusted the baseline, watching her eyes closely. She met my eyes ... then had the nerve to wink at me. Against my will, I found myself grinning as I adjusted to her change. We continued from there, playing the song, but with playful adjustments that suited the light mood we’d created.
As I drew out the final measure, the final note from my cello, I was momentarily at a loss. She took a deep breath, lowering her flute to her side. I looked at her red tinted cheeks, her full, passionate eyes, and I surrendered to it.
The music.
Her lips.
I wanted her.
Savannah
My cell phone rang as I got ready for our second to last day with students. I nearly jumped out of my skin in excitement as I saw Nathan’s name pop up on my screen.
“Hey you!” I shrieked into the phone.
“Hey, doll. That’s quite a greeting. Summer’s going well, I take it?”
I could tell he was wearing his best dimpled smile.
“It’s been amazing, Nathan. So much more than I expected. The workshops were intense, but the students were great. I’ve missed you, though.”
He sighed, long and heavy. “I know. I’ve missed you, too. It’s just been so—”
“I get it. I really get it. No need to explain.”
Nathan and I had spent most of the summer texting here and there, but hadn’t had much time to talk on the phone. I was busy with the Institute, and he was settling into his new Chicago apartment and starting rehearsal with the symphony. He was practicing extremely long hours and, for Nathan, I was impressed. He knew as well as I did how rare it was for someone right out of school to get a seat with one of the Big Five, and he did. He was determined to keep it and developed an incredible work ethic seemingly overnight.
That meant less time to talk, though. Or to have much of a life at all. I knew he was practicing extra hard to make an impression and really “earn his keep,” but it still had me wondering if the professional performance life was for me. At least at a major symphony like that. I hadn’t talked about it with anyone—my thoughts about doing something other than playing for a symphony once I graduated—because no one asked. As I excelled further and further in my skill at the flute, it seemed to be assumed by everyone—myself included—that this would be my life. Playing. Going as far as possible and staying there until I couldn’t do it anymore. Following in my mother’s footsteps. And my father’s, at least until he chose me over the orchestra pit.
I didn’t know if I wanted to have an either/or life. Was that my only choice? Looking around at all the people I admired most, it seemed that was surely the case. My parents did the best they could with a compromise situation, but that resulted in some combination of us feeling lonely at one time or another. My mother asked me to Italy whenever she had the chance, and it got harder to go the older I got. And, while James and Madeline seemed to be engaging in some heavy-duty flirting—though I was too shy to ask her about it—they worked in the same place and played for the same orchestra. That could be easy for them. Not many people are lucky enough to find someone at work. Then, there was Gregory. Married to his craft. His only friends were Madeline and James, that I knew of. I hadn’t seen much of that woman from the campus offices—Karin, I think her name was—since the night I saw them out dancing. I often teased him internally for being broody and dramatic, but I had no idea if he was lonely.
“Savannah?” Nathan interrupted my internal ramble.
“Yeah?”
“I said, are you okay? Your voice seems … off.”
“I don’t know if I want to do this.” My heartbeat nearly tripled, as I was about to admit what had been swirling in my brain for over a year.
“Do what? What are you talking about?”
I took a huge breath, nearly sighing my answer. “I don’t know if I want to play professionally. I don’t … I don’t think it’s for me.”
“Savannah …” His voice was agitated, anxious as he spoke my name, but he clipped off the rest of the sentence and let out a frustrated breath. “Is this about your—”
“Yes,” I cut him off, “it is. It’s about my mom. It’s about her and the fact that she and my dad had to live an ocean apart because she couldn’t have the kind of life with the opera here that she could over there. It’s about the last few weeks here at the Institute. I’ve loved teaching. I’ve loved nurturing young talent; preparing them for a life of their choosing. Should they have a choice …” My throat closed as I considered the implications of what I was saying.
Nathan was quiet for a few seconds and then started speaking in an uncharacteristically even tone. “You have a choice.”
“Do I? At the end of last week I played that Assobio piece with Gregory—”
“It’s Gregory now?” Nathan sounded annoyed.
“They’ve all insisted I call them by their first names, since I’m technically a colleague. Anyway, we played that piece together during the instructor ensemble time, and …”
“And what?”
My words came out as a whisper. “It was the single most moving experience while playing that I’ve ever had in my entire life. It swallowed me. We’ve never played together, and it was … perfect. We didn’t stop or stall or trip up. Not once.”
“I’m … confused. What does that have to do with you not wanting to be a performing musician?”