CHAPTER FOUR: "The power of goodbye"
AUGUST 5TH, 1880. 45 MINUTES PAST MIDNIGHT. LE MIRAGE INSTITUTE OF PERFORMING ARTS.
Ivy opened the window of her studio at Le Mirage and watched the moon shining in the distance. This would be another bright night in the City of Light. There was not a cloud in the horizon, the sky painted with bright stars and a slight breeze coming from the river. She suddenly remembered her father. "You´ve got a piece of Paris stars in your eyes, Little Flower…", he had said. Sometimes, when she was no more than a teenager, she spent twilights sitting there, in that very same room, with his father, both watching the sky grow darker and darker, while the stars danced for them. So intense, so clear… 'Some day, my child, you will see Paris with the eyes of love, when you meet a man and your heart races because of him…' Now these words hurt as Ivy watched the sky; memories came back to hunt her through the window pane. She had a new life, and there was no room for love anymore.
Ivy sighed as she closed the window and sat down to read the letter she had received that morning from her friend Grace. There, she informed her of the latest news from her family, how much her twins had grown, which was their new production for the Murphy´s theatre. Ivy sighed again. Yes, she missed the stage… so very much! She had lost many things in order to found the school she now owned, and, though her days were filled with frantic work, there was silence in her nights. And it would always be like that.
Yes, she had to admit it had been her decision and she did not regret having come back from England, abandoning a promising career on stage, to devote to her work with the students. They filled her days, just as Grace´s ones were completely worthy because of her twins and husband. Yet, her friend had a family. She didn´t. She just had an illusion, a dream.
But it was, by far, her greatest dream.
Slowly, Ivy began unfolding her mind in a response for her friend, shorter than she had planned it, but, as the words were written, a feeling of loneliness began to fill her heart, just as the stars were filling the dark sky over Paris…
Good day to you, my dearest Grace,
I know, I know, there's been quite a lot of time since my last letter, you don't have to tell aloud what you're already thinking, my friend. How is everything going on, dearest one? It has been such a wonderful thing to read you had a great success with your new 'Coppelia' production in Germany. I would have loved to attend your first night but recent events have kept me busy with the school.
Paris keeps missing you three, Gracy, and Le Mirage runs as demanding as usual but as gratifying as ever. Every day, I do have three or four new applicants to enroll; not all of them talented, but this year's promotion of students is indeed promising, so you will surely have some traveling there, ready to enroll your company.
Oh Grace, you can't imagine how much I would like you, Dave and Wills to be here these days. I've had the craziest idea of all, my friend. When I booked my box for this year´s opera season at Garnier, I was informed that the orchestra had a new conductor, Maestro Antonius Batistelli. Yes, you've heard me speaking of his music, Grace, dear, its the musician I told you about the last season I spent with you, the one offering that delightful concert in Barcelona. I was bold enough to invite him to a hosting lesson for my students, and, though he might not accept, if he does, please, wish me luck, for maybe then, after the audition, Le Mirage would finally have the relationship with the Garnier Opera House I have always dreamt of for the school.
This is by far the shortest letter of all time, but I hope you can forgive me, I hardly have time to get away from all the work I now have here, and I know Wills would frown when he read these lines, but I am sure this will be worth my efforts for the school's sake. Please, send the most pleasant thoughts to Wills and Dave and hug little Mickey and Brian for me, will you?
Your greatest friend, who loves you dearly,
IvyIvy found herself there, thinking of her new project. A letter, another letter. But this one would be very especial. It would be an invitation. If Grace were there with her, she thought, she would have encouraged her to do it. Yes, she would prepare an audition. All her students working again, together, to give life to a project. A hosting session. Oh, if only he accepted to visit her! Would it not be nice?, She found herself thinking, would it not be wonderful, to hear that music again? Just the way she had heard it in Barcelona.
Love.
That would be the word; the spirit around which all her work at the school would spin around.
Love. Everlasting and pure Love.
She found herself trying hard to capture the moment, sitting here, in front of a blank sheet of paper, while another fresh morning was breaking in Paris. She was tired of rehearsing, and thought she should write to conceal her own feelings with the dance. "Love…", she whispered aloud, in the solitude of the room. A feeling she never knew from any man. Love was indeed a second hand emotion for her. She could recall love reflected in other people´s faces, love present in the songs she played, the lines she recited, the steps she took when she danced. But it was all empty. How many times had anyone talked for her ears alone about love, absolute and ageless love? No, she had never been talked that way. Because she didn´t want to have a heart to be broken... Love was not close to pleasure, but to pain. And she was tired of listening to the sound of her own tears...
It was difficult to admit. Sometimes, she still hated herself to have been so foolish. From that moment on, she only thought about her own protection. It had been her decision. And yet, there were times where she was still scared to feel that way.
How would it be, to fall inlove again? Would she be afraid? But, more important, would it ever happen to her? She finally fell asleep, exhausted, her head laying on the table. But, for the first time, sleep didn´t bring nightmares. She said goodbye to those nightmares and welcomed sweet memories to her bed... ones of a stage, of some music. A man playing the piano, just for her.
All in all, memories she didn´t remember when she woke up...
SAME NIGHT AND TIME. A ROOM IN THE DIEU HOTEL, NEAR THE OPERA HOUSE.
It had not been difficult for Tony to discover where she was lodging. Everyone at the Opera House had a slightly different story to tell about her illness and he had decided almost at once he would visit her that evening.
Whatever the case.
He could not wait another moment to see her. All that had passed between them, since he had arrived in Paris almost two weeks ago, was a note from her, cold and empty of all intimacy. Not that I have it in my hands I know it was clear she had wanted to hurt him; perhaps because he had hurt her before, but my father did not know. He only knew that letter was not satisfying any longer. He needed to see her, to look into her eyes to know that all was truly well. That, maybe, he still had a chance.
Or not.
From the moment my father had entered the room, he was aware that another man was present, perhaps not in person, but his existence was obvious, though he had not wanted to admit it. All his attention had been focused upon her.
"Cara!"
Yes, Cara. In the flesh. In that room. He had taken in her incredibly beautiful features, and compared them to his blurred images, deciding she was now more beautiful than ever. She did intend to look healthy and every bit as lovely as she had several years ago.
Indeed, a very unwise and instinctive decision.
I suppose my father might have felt his knees grow weak; I can imagine her now, sitting on a chaise lounge, only wearing a filmy negligee that did a bad job hiding her voluptuous figure.
"It has been far too long since we met last…", he whispered to her ears alone, giving her a charming smile which froze on her lips, releasing her hands only when she introduced him the man who also occupied the suite. There had been so much he would have wanted to ask her! But however, he had no time to ask. The question was answered for him Ulpianno Viaggi entered the room, dressed only with his bathrobe.I know my father´s heart sank into his chest.
This man was now her lover, perhaps now even her husband.
"Maestro Batistelli, welcome. My intended and I look forward to working with you. She has mentioned your work to me in the past, and I am eager to see you in action…"
I guess that would have been Sinior Viaggi´s reply when he saw my father into the room, for everyone in the Opera agreed that, although the diva had her fits of temper, Ubaldo Piangi was a man of exquisite politeness, no matter the situation. My father used to say it was strange how one simple word could mean the best of happiness or the end of all hopes. And he had heard the one word:
Intended.
This man, he thought in those few seconds before speaking, had won Cassandra´s heart; there was no room for him anymore. All for the best, because otherwise I would have never existed, but this makes me realise my father was also a man of deep feelings.
"I have known Cara in the past, and I wished to see her now; to make certain that she had recovered…"
Tony continued remembering how he had stared into his former lover´s eyes. How wonderful it had been, simply to hear the sound of her voice once more and to feel the intimate sensation of his fingers around her hand. There were so many words he had longed to say, so many things he had longed to whisper against her ears…! He could not blame the other man; he had sensed a bit of possessive in his voice, but, if he had still been involved with her, he would have also felt the stirrings of jealousy in the prescience of another man. But, he was kidding himself, for he did feel envious of Ulpianno´s relationship with the desirable soprano. Tony realised it had been foolish to assume that, after so many years, she would still be free for him. Yet, he knew that, in this matter, common sense had failed to rule his heart.
He had not been able to stay for long. The news of her engagement with the watchful tenor, so recently embedded upon his heart, caused him to wish, more than ever, to be alone with his thoughts; to absorb all the emotions he had felt by being beside her once more and knowing she would never be his.
"Please, forgive me", he replied quietly, "I cannot stay", Did she see the anguish in his eyes? Did she know he could not bear to be so close beside her and not have her? He could only hope she would understand the play of emotions upon his face, though he continued masking his feelings, "Perhaps… perhaps another time…"
And now, there he was, staring absently at the sky of Paris, the City of Light. The City of Love. He had expected to recover the love he once left behind, so foolishly. He had believed once he would see her again, those old times he had kept in his heart so fondly would come back. But no; there was one thing he had to accept: nothing in this world can last eternally. No one in Earth is completely on your side. Tony had considered, at first, the possibility of getting back to Barcelona, of returning to his old post and leave all that behind. It would be too painful, to see her every day, every night in the Opera and know she was forever away of him. No. The damage was done. What could he gain if he returned? Nothing. He should give his new life a chance. After all, he had always wanted to conduct an important orchestra as the one at Garnier.
He had once fallen in love, so madly that he had followed her to Paris.
Now, he felt he was falling apart; perhaps, he thought without a reason, as the lady he had seen that night, so long ago in the city of Barcelona, sinking into the ocean.
"I should have followed her that night…", Tony murmured, before sleep found him, still staring at the night sky in Paris.
That night, Maestro Antonius Batistelli had a sweet dream. He dreamt about her.
The Lady in the Water who had inspired his latest Nocturne.
END OF CHAPTER FOUR (more soon)
