Separate

Chapter 5

They pulled over outside a club called The Skeleton Key, located in the Wicker Park area of W. North Ave. and Milwaukee. The exterior was fairly nondescript – just another brick building with shaded windows almost covered in flyers for various bands. Inside, it seemed quite small by the bar, but then opened up to a larger back room, with a small and only slightly raised stage and a larger bar. A few tables surrounded the dance floor, and they headed for a relatively quieter table in the back. The band onstage – The Witch Doctors – was playing '60s style garage music, heavy on the old Vox organ. There were a lot of retro hipsters and mod kids dancing in front of the stage, with an eclectic mix of people from apparently all walks of life: aging beatniks, older punks, a few rockabilly kids, loads of college kids in jeans and t-shirts, and quite a few goths. Melora frowned when she realized they'd missed most of the current set. "I love these guys!"

Robert reminded her, "It's not like you could do a lot of dancing."

Melora noticed he opted for keeping on his coat and hat, obviously not yet feeling comfortable enough to lose either. She nodded with a smile at his comment, reaching over and tipping his hat back a bit. He had to smile back at her – she definitely wasn't acting as uncertain as she'd been at the hospital. And why should she? She was in her element here, and he was the outsider.

Robert noticed a huge and ornate antique chandelier hanging above them, and an upstairs area looking down on the stage and dance floor. That explained it, he thought – this was one of the old Chicago ballrooms; likely a former speakeasy. He'd heard about them but never had been in one.

Serena and Anastasia arrived with the cellos as a young man dressed in black jeans, t-shirt and black suspenders approached them all. "Finally!" he said in an exasperated tone. "Do you know I've been waiting for you guys since 6:30? Where were you?"

Melora replied, "Twisting my ankle. Joey, this is Robert Romano, the kind doctor who helped me. Robert, this is Joey Marsh, our good and patient drummer. Sorry, Joey. I was detained."

Joey quickly shook Romano's hand before dismissing him. "Great. Can you play with your ankle busted?"

"It's not busted, it's sprained. And yes, I can play. We worked out a thing. Ana?"

Ana withdrew the low footstool from a bag they'd brought in, presenting it like a prize Joey had just won.

"Voila," Melora said smartly. "What's the sitch here?"

"These guys have about two songs left, and then I gotta set up, so twenty minutes, tops."

"Joey, calm down," Serena told him. "You're the only one with an instrument that actually needs setting up. We've got strings, for God's sake."

He shrugged. "There's still the mics. I'm not doing everything around here, you know. You guys do your own sound checks."

Anastasia rolled her eyes and shot him a look, to which he replied, "Look who's talking!" At that point, Joey's face dropped as he realized what he had said, and they all lost it then. Ana smiled, and Robert sensed that this had been her intent all along. Ana looked over at Robert and, catching his look, gave a tiny nod.
"Sit down," Serena told Melora. "I'll get you a drink. How about you, Doc? We get drink tickets, so it's free."

"Just a club soda, thanks. Driving."

Melora turned to Serena. "I'd like a lemon drop, please."

"I figured." Serena went to get the drinks. Robert was still scanning the room. He smelled cigarette smoke and old spilled beer, but oddly, felt no inclination to leave. Melora could see that while not entirely comfortable outside of his world, he had the same look on his face that he'd had at her flat; it essentially said I've Got This.

Robert hadn't been in a dive bar nightclub for ages. Maybe since he was an intern in the goddam '80s. He'd been so damn busy that he'd forgotten they even existed. Either that, or he'd assumed they held nothing of interest anymore. But looking to his current table companion, he realized he may have jumped to the wrong conclusion. Sitting there, somewhat hobbled, she held court while several different friends and admirers came over to say hello and chit-chat briefly; it seemed that Metronome had quite a following, and from all walks of life. It was too loud to really hear what was being said, if anything. Most greetings were a brief hug and inquiry about the crutch and ankle, and Robert looked on as Melora explained into the ear of her visitor, gesturing towards him. The listener would smile and shake his hand – perhaps congratulations on a job well done? He had no idea.

Once the Witch Doctors wrapped up their set, it became possible to have an actual conversation. Melora sipped at her drink as the menagerie of well-wishers drifted off to the bar to load up before Metronome took to the stage. "Are you hating this?" she said, bracing herself.

"Not at all," Robert assured her. And surprisingly, it was the truth. "I'd kind of forgotten about places like this. Cheap beer, loud music – takes me back."

"Some things don't change," she said. "This gets old after a while. Trust me, there was a reason why you stopped going. Don't get me wrong – I love playing these shows but some nights I just want to play and run. You know – separate the musician from the sleepy woman."

"I get that reference." Robert shrugged out of his overcoat then and placed the hat on the table, hoping it was at least sort of clean.

Ana joined them at the table then, gesturing for Melora to join Serena onstage. "Sound check and footstool positioning, it looks like," Melora remarked to Robert. "Be back in flash. And yes, I will be careful."

That was when Robert found himself seated alone with Ana. At first he wasn't sure what to say, and then realized that maybe this was exactly why she chose not to speak. "I never was a fan of small talk."

She gave a half-smile then, shaking her head as if in agreement on the subject. She then pointed to the stage, where Melora assisted in positioning her two microphones. "Thank you," she said. Her voice was deep and rich, and her accent made it somehow even richer.

Robert raised an eyebrow, quite surprised that she deemed him word-worthy. "You mean the ankle? Of course. Anyone can wrap an ankle."

She shook her head slightly once more, adding, "You stay. You give check but take no credit. You do not look at watch." She took a sip of her red wine.

Robert had absolutely no idea what to say to this. She was right – he was still here and had no intention of going anywhere. To him, it was quite simple. It wasn't every day that he got invited by a beautiful younger woman to hear her band. He'd be an idiot to go anywhere at this point. And the check? "I didn't want her to think I was expecting something in return."

Ana nodded, indicating that she understood this. "Is unusual for man, Robert."

"That's because a lot of men are idiots," he replied easily.

She laughed once, nodding. "Very true."

He gave her an apprising look. "I thought you didn't like to talk."

She shook her head, gesturing towards the stage. "I see you watch her. And you do not see, but she watch you, too." She paused, as if debating whether to continue. "She's had very difficult life. Deserves better." Melora was hobbling back over towards the table on her crutch.

"Okay." Robert wasn't really sure what the message was, exactly. It sounded like Ana was jumping the gun a bit here. Or was she? She clearly saw something that she thought was important enough to bring up. And it was nice to know that Melora might actually be interested…unless Ana had a cruel sense of humor. Maybe he should go against his better judgment and see if she might want to go out with him sometime. The idea had already occurred to him, but he'd nixed it; their worlds were so different it would probably be doomed. But still… maybe Ana saw something that he did not.

Melora was back at the table, then. "We're on in five." Ana nodded, resuming her wordless persona once more, nodding at Robert and leaving the table.

Robert asked Melora, "How long have you guys known each other?"

"Ana?" Melora took her seat once again for the moment, finishing her lemon drop. "We were at the Music Conservatory together, so about ten years. I met both her and Serena there. Am I wrong, or was she actually conversing with you?"

"She was. I felt…honored. And you're right about her voice."

Melora smiled. "People always say that. What did she say?"

Robert paused, trying to figure out what he could say without revealing too much. "She said that I am 'unusual for man'." He said the last bit with an imitation of her accent, which got an easy laugh from Melora.

But before they could speak further, his pager went off. Damn! Really? Right now? "Excuse me," he said, fishing it out of his suit pocket and glancing at it. "Cardio 911." Great. "I'm sorry, but this probably means I need to go. They know better than to page me for anything other than a patient emergency." He watched as her face fell. "Believe me, I'd really rather not."

Melora looked a little down at the news. "Oh, um, yeah, of course. Okay."

"But is can I get a raincheck? I mean, would you like to get together again, outside of ankle-related mishaps?"

She smiled. "What? No waiting three days before calling?"

"Well, I don't have your number and I need to run. No time for games."

"Well, yes. Of course I'd like to see you again." She was almost as surprised that he was asking as he was. "Give me a pen."

He reached into his suit coat's inner pocket and withdrew his pen, handing it to her. "Why?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

"Why the pen or why do I want to see you?"

"The latter."

Without even thinking about it, she told him. "Because you're different. 'Unusual for man'." She scribbled her number on a cocktail napkin and slid both it and the pen back to him.

Wait a second, Robert thought as he pocketed the pen and napkin. I'm sitting here with this beautiful woman who's wearing something from another era and plays cello in a band…but I'm the one who's different? Then again, it was true. At least, in this nightclub he was definitely different.

She smiled at his puzzled look, realizing that she was even more charmed by him than she'd initially thought. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn't playing it distant or cool like most other men did. "Look, I know you probably don't want anyone at your hospital to know it, but you're a good man. I see you, hiding in there." She spoke in a confidential whisper, ignoring Serena, who waved at her to join them onstage.

"I thought I was a psychopath?" he joked, standing and pulling on his coat and hat.

"Nope. But don't worry – your secret is safe with me." She stood, Robert giving her a hand-up and her crutch. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before she could overthink it. "Now, go save that patient. You know where to find me."

Huh, he thought, a bit stunned. That was unexpected… but the nicest sort of unexpected. He watched her make her way to the stage, cursing the timing of whoever was paging him. Then again, would he have been so up-front if he'd known he had another few hours here? Or if Ana had said nothing? Probably not. "Good night," he said quietly, even though she was far out of earshot by then.

A suited mod kid standing near Robert looked over his shoulder, English cigarette in hand. "What'd you say?"

Robert shook his head. "Nice suit," he added before heading towards the exit. He heard his pager going off again, and went out to his car, where he could return the call in relative quiet.