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"Don’t I?" I pull away from her. "It’s easy for the rest of you to try to justify your actions. But you knew what he was going to do, and you didn’t stop him. If something happens to him, I’ll never forgive any of you, I—"
"Mrs. Sovrano?"
I whip my head around. As do Karma and Aurora.
"Ah," the doctor’s gaze bounces between the three of us, then settles on me. Guess the blood on my dress is a dead giveaway.
"Mrs. Luca Sovrano?"
I nod. A melting sensation grips my limbs. My heart feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest. It’s the first time someone has called me that.Will it be the last?No, I will not think that way. I will be positive. I take a step in his direction.
"Is he okay?" My voice trembles. My chin wobbles. Everything in the room fades away as the doctor shakes his head.
"I’m sorry."
56
Jeanne
It’s been three days since that fateful moment. I know, because last night was the third time I’ve come off stage. Three days. One continuous, endless strand of white noise, punctuated by my stepping on that stage. The stage I now hate. The musical I now abhor. I’m revolted by what I have become—a widow who still goes up there to perform every day because I’m committed. The show must go on, after all. That’s what William told me. He called me as I sat outside the room in the hospital where Luca was.
Penny held me as I collapsed in a heap after the doctor’s proclamation. I was trying to work up the courage to go inside that room and see him. Stared at the door for what seemed like hours, until her phone rang.
She answered it, then glanced at me, telling me William insisted on speaking to me. I didn’t want to take the call, but she said William insisted. The future of the musical was at stake. With the lead actress unreachable—Olivia had checked herself out of the hospital, and apparently, disappeared—that left me. The woman who lost everything on that stage... And he’d wanted me to go back and complete the run. The money from the ticket sales was riding on this, but if that weren’t enough, so were the futures of the rest of the cast. It was the latter which gave me pause.
I know what it is to give up everything to focus on a creative career. One in which so much depends on being in the right place at the right time, one in which a musical like this could make or break a person. It broke me; doesn’t mean it can’t launch the future of the rest of the cast.
Ultimately, it’s the fact that Luca, himself, encouraged me to go on stage... He’d have wanted me to keep performing; it’s why he gave up his life, after all. That’s what had convinced me to return to the musical the next day, and the day after, and the one after that.
Now, I glance at my reflection in the mirror in the dressing room adjoining the bedroom I shared with Luca. I barely slept the night, and my gaunt features stare back at me. There are black circles under my eyes. My cheekbones have grown more prominent. The light reflects off of my hair and I lean in close. I pluck at a strand at my temple. It’s gray? That can’t be right. Since when did I have gray hair? It’s the first time I’ve noticed it. I definitely did not have gray hair before. Could it be…The strand slips from my grasp. The shock of what had happened—that’s the only explanation.
There’s a soft tap on the door before it opens and Karma walks in. Since that day at the hospital, she and Penny have been my constant companions. Karma had wanted me to move in with her and Michael but I refused.
I want to be alone with my grief and with my thoughts of Luca. I sleep in the bed where he fucked me, embrace the pillows which retain his scent, and I’ve taken to wearing one of his discarded button-downs around the house. I have to hold onto what I have of him—the image of him in my mind, the lingering warmth of his body, which I can almost imagine if I close my eyes and focus on his presence.
When I was on stage the first night after the incident and we reached the scene where the Beast—where Luca—was shot, I was sure I was going to collapse. That’s when something had reached out to me. I imagined I heard him admonish me and order me to move on. I felt like he was there with me, urging me on. The hair on the nape of my neck rose, and it felt like he was there in the audience watching me. I flicked a glance at the darkened auditorium, not that I could see anything, then I had pushed myself to go through the well-rehearsed steps. I had channeled all the agony, the conflict, the torment I felt into the performance.
I must have said and done the right thing because, the next thing I knew, the audience was applauding and demanding encores, as they have been every night. The musical is running to packed houses—no doubt, also as a result of the notoriety from what happened on the first night— and there’s talk of extending it, even performing at London’s West End. If only he were here to see it. He gave his life, and I have what I always strived for. A successful career as an actress.
"Jeanne?" Karma touches my shoulder. "How are you holding up?"
I raise my gaze to hers in the mirror. "I’m…" I shake my head, not sure what to say.
"I wish you’d move in with me and Michael. You need your family around you at this time."
What I need is Luca.His touch, the feel of his skin on mine, his voice rumbling under my cheek as I lay my head on his chest, his scent surrounding me as he wraps me in those big arms of his... His lips on mine, his gaze holding mine, a smirk on his lips as he orders me around in bed.
I reach for the moisturizer and begin to apply it on my face. "I’m fine." My voice sounds so cold, so dead. Good. How can you be expected to go on when everything that means anything to you is gone, and all that’s left of you is a hollowed-out shell, a body that’s going through the motions of living, but isn’t actually there?
It should be easier to be on stage. You’d think I could pretend to be someone else; I could try to leave what happened behind. Except, each step on that stage, each piece of dialogue I mouth, each time I cross the spot where he fell, feels like I’m walking on knives. The space was wiped clean, but I’m sure I can see the outline of the blood that spurted from his body. Can smell the metallic tang of copper that leached into the air as he lay dying in my arms.
I place the bottle of moisturizer on the dresser, then rise. Karma watches as I walk over and pull the jacket from the peg on the wall. His jacket. Nothing else seems to keep out the cold. Even wearing the jacket, my bones feel like they’ve been dipped in ice. My blood feels like there are icicles embedded in the cells.
"You don’t have to do this." She walks over and grips my arm. "You don’t have to be there."
"I do." I tip up my chin. "He’d have wanted me to be there."
She peers into my features. "If I were in your position, I would've burned the place down, then likely thrown myself off a cliff. You’ve been too silent, Jeanne. You haven’t even cried."
