Regina was over the moon with joy that Henry had taken an interest in playing the cello again, and she had to admit it was thanks to Emma, who had found a way to make playing music fun again for him by teaching him to compose songs and improvise. Emma had also come up, if not intentionally, with a way to remind Regina herself how much fun she could have when she loosened up a little. Now Henry rushed back home each week, eager to play with both of them. As he could play it much better than the guitar, most of the time he favoured his cello, whose sound beautifully merged with his mother's violin.
Today, Emma and Regina were just warming up and Henry wouldn't be back for another hour, but Emma seemed a little quiet, and she kept playing in minor keys. Regina's good mood started to fade as she shifted from her initial confident C major to a C minor to match Emma's dark chords.
Something was bothering Emma, and Regina thought she could even figure out what. What she could hear in Emma's music was a farewell – she was telling her goodbye. Regina's heart sank at the thought of Emma disappearing from her and Henry's life. For once, music was not enough. Regina needed to put words on this.
"All right," she said, laying down her violin on the coffee table, "What's with all the goodbyes? Are you leaving or what?"
Emma was doing her best not to meet her eyes. "My gig's over," she said. "Ruby's show was a success and we stayed quite longer than we had planned, but now we have to go. Ruby's manager found her another gig." Her voice dropped. "In California."
How come Regina had never questioned before the fact that Emma lived and worked here? Of course she was bound to leave sooner or later. She was a side musician. She went on tour with her leads and travelled all over the country, possibly beyond, from one gig to another. How many weeks had gone by since she had first rung at her door in the middle of the night? It seemed like yesterday. "When?" Regina asked curtly.
"Next week," Emma replied. "We're leaving in three days."
"I see," said Regina, her voice carefully neutral. It was all she could do not to start yelling at Emma right now. Emma had given up Henry once before. Of course she was leaving again. She wouldn't hesitate for a moment between him and her career. People you love always leave you, reminded her the little voice in her head, that's why you don't want to get attached, you fool.
Oh, shut up, Regina thought. Who's talking about love anyway?
But maybe Regina was being unfair after all. It was obvious that Emma herself had just found out she was leaving and was not happy about it.
"Have you told Henry?" Regina asked, her voice still carefully guarded.
"Not yet," Emma replied in a small voice, "I wanted to tell you first. I thought maybe…" She cast a helpless gaze at Regina. "I don't know," she concluded miserably.
What was it that Emma expected from her? Did she perchance hope that Regina would beg her to stay? Regina never begged. Emma was a grown-up. She could make her own decisions.
"You don't know how to tell Henry," Regina stated, deliberately choosing the easiest way out. "Start with not making a big deal out of it, for god's sake. You're not dying – you're going to California. You'll be back. And then you'll probably leave again. Henry will be fine. Just try to stay in touch with him this time." It didn't occur to her that just a few weeks ago, too happy to get rid of Emma, she'd have died rather than demanding such a thing.
Emma considered Regina silently for a few moments as if she wanted to say something. "Of course," she finally agreed, "He isn't a little boy anymore. And he has you."
Regina had something important to tell Emma, but somehow it kept eluding her. All she could think about right now was how she would help Henry deal with Emma's departure. "Yes," she repeated absent-mindedly, "Of course he has me."
Emma was putting her guitar back into her case. "I think I'm not going to wait for Henry today," she said. "I have some packing to do. I'll talk to him later."
Regina couldn't seem to find a single relevant word to say. Was Emma running away from her? What about their session?
The blonde woman stood up and held her gaze, her green eyes filled with sadness. "Well Regina, it was great playing music with you. I hope we'll do it again sometime. Bye then."
When Henry came home half an hour later, Regina was still sitting in the living room, her violin in her lap, the tea tray untouched. Emma was gone.