Chapter Nine
Once Eva made it to end of the block she stopped and sat on a ledge.
Was that all she was to people, the daughter of two people who had been famous? Were people talking about her in other circles? Would she come into rehearsals as a known quantity? And if so, then what if her voice disappeared? What if she weren’t able to sing? Would they all think it served her, right?
The horror of the morning came back to Eva, the inability to speak, let alone sing. The way she’d felt when she’d been put on the spot by Luciano and Glenda. What if that happened again? It was bound to! Was she going to have Ambrose by her side every time she wanted or needed to sing?
Eva stood from the ledge and waited for lights to change so she could take the subway home. Home was all she wanted. She wanted the comfort of her things, the comfort of beautiful music on the record player.
“Eva!” The sound came from behind her and Eva turned to see Jerome running toward her. She smiled. His was just the face she wanted to see right now. “What are you doing here?” Jerome smiled broadly.
“An impromptu rehearsal with Luciano,” Eva’s voice was cracked and broken.
“You sang today?” Jerome looked incredulous and Eva felt the weight of all her problems fall down around her again.
“Are you hungry?” Eva asked, suddenly craving some fresh pasta primavera or a savory onion tart.
“Starving,” Jerome’s eyes grew wide.
The pair moved off the main drag and into a little, neighborhood restaurant with only four tables.
Eva and Jerome took the empty table closest to the window and to the street. Eva’s stomach growled loudly when they sat down and both of them laughed at the remarkable timing of her stomach.
“I think I’ve been so worried about everything that I haven’t had a decent meal in weeks.” She rubbed her hands together as she thought of all the dishes she wanted to order.
“How are you singing through rehearsals with your voice the way it is?”
Eva looked at her hands trying to think of some excuse, finally she looked up at him. “I don’t know. It’s…strange… like the night we went to Don Juan and then met Ambrose, sometimes my voice just comes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Most of the time it doesn’t…” Eva paused, trying to decide how much she should or could safely disclose to Jerome. “It’s really strange actually… whenever I’m with Ambrose my voice just—it works, perfectly, it doesn’t make sense but… probably just some psychosomatic thing…”
Jerome seemed to contemplate this. “You’ve told Luciano Costantini about your problems though?”
Eva felt called out. She’d known she should be open and upfront with the composer but it meant saying goodbye to too much.
“Aren’t you worried he will find out? Or that you won’t be able to sing for him one day?” Jerome read her mind.
“I want to tell him, I’m dying to tell him, but I can’t…this is…this is everything.” Eva swallowed hard.
Jerome nodded and seemed to understand her reasoning. Wouldn’t he, after all, do the same thing if given the chance? He exhaled as he contemplated her predicament.
“What have you been up to?” Eva tried to change the subject and in that Jerome seemed to read her mind as well, but he gave into it easily enough letting Eva off the hook.
Jerome cheered Eva up with exaggerated stories of his botched auditions and his dire circumstances. He told her about the awful audition waiting rooms with seven men who looked just like him. He told her about Leslie’s new complaints, and they both discussed Bridget’s new gig.
“I’m going to have to find a real job if I don’t book some work soon.” Jerome looked out the window and Eva thought how handsome he really was. It was strange that she’d never really noticed before.
“Well you can always crash on my couch if you need to,” Eva said just before taking a bite off her plate. She’d filled up long ago, but the food was so good she just couldn’t help herself.
“Dessert?” Jerome asked. Eva smiled back at him and nodded conspiratorially.
After a triple layer chocolate cream cake, Jerome took Eva to an art deco movie theater that played a stream of art house movies, foreign films, and the classics. They watched a Jean-Luc Godard film from the sixties that made Eva laugh and left her with a burning desire to speak fluent French. Not that she was doing much speaking these days.
After the movie Jerome insisted on seeing Eva back to her apartment and was grateful for the gesture and for his company.
“You would look good with them,” Jerome conceded. They’d been talking about Anna Karina’s bangs in the movie.
Eva took a chunk of her thick hair and twirled it up to give herself fake bangs, “Like this.”
“If you want the full look you’ll need some blue eye shadow and some seriously winged eyeliner.”
“And a cigarette, don’t forget the cigarette,” Eva mimed smoking, something she, or any other serious opera singer, would never do. “Of course I already sound like a smoker,” she sighed.
Jerome nodded a little and looked both ways before leading Eva to cross the street.
“Do you ever get too caught up in your roles?” Eva asked, looking up.
“What do you mean? Like I sing Pinkerton in Madame Butterfly and suddenly find myself falling in love with a beautiful Geisha before throwing her over and leaving her to slit her own throat?” Jerome drew a fake knife across his neck before turning to Eva.
“Yeah, like that,” she laughed in a raspy deep voice.
They walked on quietly for a long moment.
“Are you having a hard time drawing a line between yourself and Lucretia?” Jerome broke the comfortable silence.
Eva waggled her head back and forth. A toddler ran past them and Eva saw the little girl’s mother down the sidewalk in hot pursuit. Jerome bent and lifted the little girl mid-run.
“I think someone’s trying to catch you,” Jerome said to the baby, who giggled cheerfully at being apprehended. “Here you are,” Jerome handed off the child to her mother or nanny.
“Thank you, she won’t go to sleep, I thought walking would wear her out but it seems to only have given her more energy.” The mother made a face as if to say, what can you do, then continued off down the sidewalk. “Are going to be a good girl and go to sleep?” They could hear the mother asking her child as they walked away.
“No!” The baby shouted and laughed in a sweet, high-pitched reply.
Jerome looked at Eva.
“Isn’t it late?” she whispered to him.
Jerome nodded, his nostrils flaring a little with amusement.
“You are a natural with children, if you don’t book something soon you could always be a manny,” she teased.
“Two little brothers and a little sister force you to be good with children.” Jerome turned back to Eva, “But you were telling me about your role.”
“It’s stupid,” Eva fluttered a hand in front of her.
“No, tell me.”
Eva contemplated Jerome’s face. “Ok, let’s say you had two choices in front of you. You have the choice to move to… some other country where you don’t know the language, the laws, the customs, and you wouldn’t be allowed to visit before deciding either. You would have to live there for the rest of your life once you moved, you could never go back… but you would be able to sing perfectly, have an acclaimed career, and never stop singing. Or you could stay at home, but you would never be able to sing again…you might become depressed, you might even…” Eva drew a fake dagger across her own neck. “Which would you choose?”
Jerome whistled, “Geez, that’s quite a question.”
“And you have to decide before we get the next intersection,” Eva added.
“Ok, ok,” Jerome nodded and looked at the ground while he walked forward. “Would I be happy in the other country?”
“You can’t know that until you get there,” Eva spread her fingers.
“Of course not,” Jerome rolled his eyes, “and once I was there I would be there forever.”
“Right.”
Eva watched his face as they walked—it was a hard question to answer, she knew that better than anyone.
“I don’t know, I’m not sure I could choose a life without singing,” he looked up. “But I’m not sure I could live a life removed from everything I know and…love.” He stopped walking and looked into Eva’s face.
Eva felt the mood of his words and saw the changes in his body and face. She had an impulse to reach out and cover Jerome’s mouth, to stop him from saying anymore, but she didn’t. She looked at him with limp hands and a quickly beating heart.
“This is probably a really bad time to tell you this—but, Eva, I—”
“—wait,” Eva cut in, panicked by what she knew her friend was about to say, “sorry, I just…”
“I know, you’ve got way too much going on right now to deal with me, but I have to tell you while I have the courage. I care about you. I’ve always cared about you. A lot.” He stared at her face, his eyes moved over her and she felt like his eyes were saying more than his words had been able to.
Eva opened her mouth.
“Don’t say anything. Just think about…I shouldn’t have said anything.” Jerome turned back to the sidewalk and continued walking.
Eva ran to catch up with him.
“What about Leslie?” It was all she could think of in the moment.
“What about Leslie? I don’t care about Leslie that way, I think you know that—”
Did she know that? Had she understood that? Eva had never really thought that Jerome had cared about her.
“I just… it’s just that my heart… isn’t available right now.” She felt horrible saying it but she also knew that it was true.
“Ambrose.” He said the name with derision. He looked sick over it. “Sorry, I’m sure he’s a great guy.”
Eva didn’t want to respond. Ambrose was handsome, he was talented, he was exactly what she wanted, but he wasn’t a great guy in the sense that Jerome meant.
“He’s not that great,” Eva admitted slowly.
Jerome shifted his weight as he turned over what Eva had said. “I’ve heard the rumors, about all the women,” Jerome put a hand on Eva’s shoulder then quickly dropped it.
“Right,” Eva felt her face burn hot. Everyone knew then? Everyone knew that Ambrose hopped from woman to woman? Then they knew something that Eva hadn’t let herself see. Her heart was in a relationship with a man that would never let himself or his heart be in a relationship with her.
“He isn’t right for you, Eva. You’re…you’re much too good for him. If he can’t see what I see, then he doesn’t deserve you.”
Eva looked back up at Jerome, “I know.”
Jerome nodded.
“For now,” she stepped forward and bumped Jerome with her hip, “let’s just be friends. Now that Bridget is gone I can’t afford to lose your friendship.”
“You will never lose my friendship.” Jerome patted Eva on the back a few times before moving forward again.
“Hey! You never gave me your decision…we’re at the end of the block.” She stopped and waited before crossing the empty street.
“My decision would be…to not make a decision…”
“But you have to,” she pressed.
“It’s impossible, I refuse,” he said adamantly.
She nodded, looked both ways, and crossed the street.
He was right. It was impossible.