Last winter, still reeling from her catastrophic night with Aidan, she’d hooked up with Bobby in a desperate play to prove to herself that she was still whole. The attempt had backfired, leaving her feeling even shakier than before. It had been all too apparent – to both of them – as soon as it had happened that it was a mistake to cross that line. Within a few days, Bobby had started dating Phoebe and she had gone back to pretending she was fine. But she couldn’t help but wonder – if she couldn’t even feel safe enough to let go with one of her best friends, what hope did she have of ever feeling safe with another man again?
∞∞∞
That afternoon, Min ducked into the small internet café on the Oltr’arno side of the river, the only shop on a narrow street just a block away from the Arno. Every other day she called her mother, getting updates on her niece’s ballet classes and her stepfather’s thriving tomato plants. On the opposite days, she slipped into the phone booth, dialed her calling card access code, and held her breath while the phone rang half a world away. Finally, her best friend answered.
“Have you fucked an Italian yet?” Jeff asked.
Min barked out a laugh. “Yes. It’s all orgies all the time,” she said, rolling her eyes and smiling despite herself.
“One day you’re going to say yes and mean it,” he said. “And Dr. Jacobs? Still sexy as ever?”
God, if only Jeff knew.She hadn’t told him about that night at the opera. She hadn’t told anyone. Jeff wasn’t the type to judge, and she was sure he would have happily relived every second of that night with her, but she wanted that one memory just for herself.
“Of course. The man could never be otherwise,” she replied, unable to completely conceal the lingering sadness. “What am I doing here?” she asked Jeff for the hundredth time.
And, as always, he reminded her:you are studying to be an opera singer. You are having a fabulous international adventure. You are living your dream.Jeff was used to the routine by now, having talked her down multiple times a week since she had arrived in Italy.
But the truth was, this wasn’t her dream. Not anymore.
When she’d agreed to come to Italy, she’d thought maybe she might get a Master’s in music. Maybe she’d try her hand at a few auditions and see what happened. At some point along the way, she’d stopped thinking of the music as a hobby and started thinking of it as an identity. And once she’d felt what it was like to get lost in a piece of music, to have an entire conversation with Dr. Jacobs through the notes on the page and the way they shaped them together, how could she ever think of doing anything else?
That was before she’d let Aidan back into her life last December. One stupid night and everything had changed. In the months of therapy that had followed, it became frustratingly clear that she needed to let the dream go. While she would always love the music, it would be impossible to truly heal from that night with Aidan as long as she was seriously pursuing a career in opera. His family was a major benefactor of all the most prestigious programs and opera houses in the Northeast. You didn’t make a career on the Eastern Seaboard without performing in a Dietrich Hall. And she just couldn’t stomach it. She couldn’t spend her life bumping into Aidan and his family, currying their favor and that of countless others like them. How could she ever feel safe again if she could never be free of him?
Her therapist had helped her formulate a new plan, one with a more sensible, stable career path. All it had taken was filing a one-page form with the registrar and all those literature classes she took for fun were suddenly a second major, one that would allow her to pursue a Master’s in a different field. One that gave her back the control over her life she’d lost that night. She would get her Master’s in education and these four years of performing would just be fun stories to tell her grandkids someday.
But the awful truth was, if she was no longer pursuing a career as an opera singer, she wasn’t sure who she was anymore.
“Have you checked in with your therapist lately?” Jeff asked gently.
Min flinched, shaking her head for several seconds before she remembered he couldn’t see her and found her voice. “No. I’m okay, Jeff. Really.”
“There’s no shame in getting help, doll,” he said. “I know you think you don’t need it anymore now that the panic attacks have stopped, but –”
“Can we not?” she said, cutting him off.
“I’m just worried about you,” he said.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to help. But I don’t want to think about Aidan while I’m here. I promise I’ll set up an appointment once I’m Stateside again.”
“Swear on the voice of Josh Groban.”
Min laughed. “I swear on the voice of the mighty Groban. Let’s talk about something else.”
Jeff regaled her with stories of his adventures in Boston that summer, his plans for a vacation in the Caribbean, the latest boy he’d been seeing. He asked after Bobby and for detailed descriptions of the tiramisu at the local café. Min closed her eyes and pretended she was sitting in their living room in the small house they rented off campus, talking to him over a bag of M&Ms rather than an ocean.
The phone beeped, telling her she only had one minute left on her phone card. “Are you smiling?” Jeff asked. “You’re not smiling. Do I need to tell you bad jokes or will you smile so we can hang up?” That garnered him a chuckle. “That’s more like it. Now, go be the fabulous opera diva you are. Show those Italians how we do it in the States.”
“Thanks, Jeff. Call you Sunday.” She hung up and ducked out of the café before any of the other patrons noticed how red her eyes were.
She had wanted to be a professional singer since she was a little girl (though as a little girl she’d also wanted to be a chef and a doctor and a famous author). And she had thought she’d made her peace with leaving it behind when she filed the paperwork for her double major. How was she still so unprepared for how badly it hurt to give it up?
But she had to stick to the plan. And if that night last December had taught her anything, it was that walking away couldn’t possibly hurt as much as continuing on.
Chapter Seven
Liam sat in a corner of the courtyard drinking red wine from a tall water glass and trying not to flinch every time Bobby forgot to double a consonant. He was only half listening anyway. From his spot in the corner, he could clearly see the boarding house gate. If today was like every other day this week, he knew Min would be walking through that gate at any minute. And, if today was like every other day this week, her pale skin would be splotched in a way that said she’d been crying.
He told himself it was only professional concern. She was his student after all and an artist in his program. She had been entrusted to his care and she was upset about something she wasn’t discussing. Something she was doing her best to hide from everyone – including him – ever since she’d had a panic attack during his dress rehearsal last winter.
