Chapter Twenty
It was mid-October and Ada’s fourth vocal lesson with Marilyn Rondell. Standing next to Marilyn’s upright piano in her one-story bungalow not far from the jazz club, Ada ran through scales and arpeggios, loosely warming up a voice that had lain dormant for far too long. Her throat loosened, and her lungs filled with air. Marilyn’s fingers were like oil, streaming beautifully across the keys. Outside, it was fifty-two degrees and cloudy, but in here, tea was steaming in their mugs, and they had a whole hour left to deepen Ada’s musical heart again.
These sessions were fast becoming Ada’s favorite times in her current life.
Marilyn cut the warm-up off and reached for her mug. Today, she wore a whimsical pair of overalls and a knitted hat that fit snugly over her ears. “Darling, that was wonderful,” she said, eyeing Ada. “But you must try to deepen those vowels, if you can. Does it hurt?”
Ada touched the base of her throat, remembering how painful it had been to sing during the tail end of her career. It had felt like a chainsaw going through her neck. But now, the pain was gone, leaving her voice frailer but fine. Maybe she could push it a little bit.
“I’ll try,” she promised Marilyn.
Throughout today’s session, Marilyn had set aside a few jazz standards for Ada to experiment with. The songs required a musical ear and a musical feel, without the wild operatic voice that Ada had once taken for granted. Ada enjoyed the improvisation of jazz, how she could sweep into a song and disappear for a little while. When she and Marilyn transformed a jazz standard into a song of their own design, one they created on the spot with Ada’s lyrics and Marilyn’s chords, Ada felt a sense of euphoria. It was like she was floating a few inches off the ground.
When their hour was through, Marilyn made Ada another cup of tea and sat with her on the front porch, where they watched children walking from the nearby elementary school. Ada’s own kids, Kade and Olivia, were staying late today for Kade’s sports and Olivia’s theater. Their own lives were off to the races.
Marilyn sipped her tea and eyed Ada curiously. “Have you reached out to any of your Manhattan friends? Have you told them that you started up your music again?”
Ada wanted to laugh, but didn’t. “My opera friends aren’t really my friends anymore, I’m afraid. It’s just been too long.”
Marilyn nodded. She, too, had lived in Manhattan, which meant she understood the art of letting go of past lives. “I’m sure they’d be pleased for you,” she said. “Taking a twenty-year break from music and getting back into it takes bravery.”
“It’s really a hobby now,” Ada reminded Marilyn, blushing.
“I wanted to talk to you about that,” Marilyn said. “I think we need to set some goals.”
Ada laughed. She heard her own voice, telling her various patients to make goals for themselves, to push themselves toward a sort of “conclusion” so that they felt they were makingprogress. She understood the benefit, but it was strange to be on the other side.
“I think we should have you up on stage by Christmas,” Marilyn said.
Ada’s smile dropped. “I don’t know about that.”
Marilyn pushed it. “You’ve made enormous progress in just four sessions. I think your voice is up for a lot more than you think it is.” Her face darkened. “Promise me you’ll think about it?”
“Okay,” Ada said. “I’ll think about it.” But she had a hunch she’d back out, no matter what.
Marilyn changed the subject a few minutes later. “How is that husband of yours? Still trying to get you back?”
Ada smiled sadly and wrapped a scarf around her neck. “I guess so. He made dinner almost every night the past week. Some of my favorites, too. Lasagna. Chicken cacciatore.”
“He’s trying to fatten you up for winter, so you won’t leave him behind,” Marilyn teased.
Ada laughed and pulled her arms through her autumn coat. It was true that Peter had been exceptionally loving and tender since he’d broken things off with Katrina. It was hard to believe it had been a month since then. Ada hadn’t asked him about it, choosing to believe that that was Peter’s business and not her own. Soon, she’d find the strength to reach out to divorce lawyers.
“The kids know we’re breaking up,” Ada said. “The wheels are turning.”
“That must be why he wants to reel you back in,” Marilyn said. “It feels like it’s really happening now. He wants to turn back time.”
Ada smiled, her heart skipping a beat. “There’s no going back, is there?”
“Not as far as I can tell,” Marilyn admitted.
After giving Marilyn a big hug and thanking her for the lesson, Ada sped down the steps, got in her car, and went to pick up the kids at school. Kade had news regarding the winter running club and a meal that Ada (or Peter) had to cook for the team. Olivia spoke only in the lines she had to memorize for the next play she was auditioning for, which might have been annoying if she wasn’t so darn good.
Ada’s heart filled with love for her children. How she wished Hannah were still here.
Back at home, Peter was in the kitchen, making homemade chicken potpie. He high-fived Kade about his sports and Olivia about her theater, and he high-fived Ada, asking her about her singing lessons. Ada laughed, feeling the smack from his palm reverberate down her wrist. Were they teammates, now? She liked that.
“Marilyn wants me to perform later this year,” she confessed to Peter, popping open a diet soda and watching as Kade and Olivia settled on the sofa to watch something.
