Crocodile Tears
1376 Words
Maeve's POV
The restaurant Gawain had chosen was the kind of place that didn't put prices on the menu but had a six-week waitlist. He had gotten us a corner table because Gawain had been getting corner tables since he was twenty-three and played his first sold-out show at the Kennedy Center. That was Gawain. He walked into rooms, and rooms rearranged themselves around him.
"Your mother would have loved this," he said, pushing a bread basket toward me. "She always said good plans deserved good food."
"She also said good food deserved good company," I said. "So she would have sent you back to the kitchen and eaten alone."
He laughed, and it was the kind of laugh that loosened something in my chest that had been pulled tight for weeks.
Gawain had been fifteen when my mother found him aging out of the foster system with a broken violin and perfect pitch. She had taken him in, fixed the violin, and spent four years turning him into something extraordinary. He was thirty now, with a wall of awards and a reputation that made promoters nervous, and he still called me to ask if he was holding his bow correctly when he was stressed.
We ordered. We talked. For the first time since Christmas Eve, I felt like a person instead of a problem.
"The studio," he said, leaning forward. "I have been thinking about the location. There is a space on Westheimer. Ground floor, good acoustics, enough room for six practice rooms and a small recital hall. We could run beginner classes in the morning and advanced classes in the afternoon, and use the recital hall for monthly concerts."
"We would need a name," I said.
"Ashford," he said immediately. "No discussion."
I looked at him.
"She built both of us," he said simply. "The studio should carry her name."
I nodded because I didn't trust my voice for a second. Then I picked up my wine glass and said, "Ashford Music Studio. First concert in six months. We open auditions in March."
Gawain touched his glass to mine. "Done."
That was when the door opened.
I looked up and came face-to-face with Kael, Elizabeth, and my son. Leo was wearing the new coat I had bought him in November. He was holding Elizabeth's hand.
Gawain followed my gaze. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "You want to leave?"
"Absolutely not," I said, and turned back to my food.
I heard them being seated two tables away. Close enough. Elizabeth had probably requested it. I kept my eyes on Gawain and my voice steady, and we talked about March auditions and studio insurance and whether Gawain's manager would be an asset or a liability to the project.
Then I heard heels on the floor, and I didn't need to look up to know she was walking up to me.
"Maeve." Elizabeth's voice was warm and soft, calibrated for an audience. Half the restaurant could hear her. "I thought that was you."
I looked up. She was standing at our table in a dress that cost more than my rent, her hands folded in front of her, her expression carefully arranged into something between hope and vulnerability. Kael stood slightly behind her. Leo stood beside him, watching me with the flat, assessing eyes of a child who had been coached on what to feel.
"What," I said.
"I wanted to apologize," she said, loud enough for the nearest tables to hear. "For showing up at your friend's apartment like that. It was inappropriate. I just love music so much, and the Ashford is such a legendary instrument. I thought if I could explain in person—"
"You already explained," I said. "The answer didn't change."
She nodded like she had expected that, which meant she hadn't come here to ask again. She had come here to perform.
"Just one concert," she said, her voice dipping into something fragile. "One night. I would treat it like the treasure it is. I know I am not Elena Ashford. I know I am not you. But I love that violin, and I just want-"
"You are not Elena Ashford," I agreed. "You are also not a notable name in the violin world, Elizabeth, which makes this request even more confusing. That instrument has played Carnegie Hall. It has played the Royal Albert Hall. It is not available for a farewell concert by someone whose biggest credit is a regional showcase in 2019."
The temperature at the surrounding tables dropped.
Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears. Right on schedule.
"I just wanted to say goodbye to music," she whispered.
"Then buy your own violin," I said, and went back to my food. “Kael would be more than happy to buy you the most expensive violin.”
A beat of silence. Then Elizabeth made a sharp, startled sound, and I heard the scrape of a chair and a gasp from the table beside us.
I looked up.
Elizabeth was clutching her shoulder, stumbling sideways into Kael, her face twisted in pain.
"She pushed me," she breathed, loud enough for the entire section to hear. "She pushed me."
I stared at her. I had not moved. My hands were on the table, one holding a fork, one wrapped around my wine glass. I had not touched her.
Gawain was already on his feet, his voice quiet and absolute. "She didn't touch you."
But the surrounding tables were already murmuring. An older woman two seats away pressed her hand to her mouth. A man in a gray suit leaned over to his companion and shook his head. People were looking at me the way people look at someone who has just done something unforgivable in public.
Kael stepped forward, his face dark. "Maeve."
"I didn't touch her," I said.
"I saw you," he said.
"You were two tables away with your back turned," Gawain said, and the steadiness in his voice was the only thing keeping me from flipping the table.
"She is shaking," Kael said, looking at Elizabeth like she was made of glass. "Maeve, whatever is between us, you don't put your hands on someone who is sick-"
"I did not touch her," I said again.
"Apologize," Kael said. "Just apologize, and we can all move on."
"I will not apologize for something I didn't do."
"You pushed her." The voice was smaller. Younger.
I looked at Leo. He was standing beside Kael, his chin lifted, his eyes hard. "I saw it! You pushed her because she asked for the violin."
The murmuring around us got louder.
Gawain crouched down slowly until he was at eye level with Leo. His voice was calm and unhurried, the way it always was when he was teaching. "Son, I don't know what you think you saw. But your mother did not push anyone. And whatever is happening between the adults in your life, she is still your mother. You don't speak about her like that in public or anywhere else. Do you understand me?"
Leo said nothing. He looked at the floor.
Kael's eyes moved from Gawain to me. Something ugly crossed his face. "Who is this?"
"My business partner," I said. "And my friend."
"Business partner," Kael repeated, his voice dropping. "How long has this been going on?"
I looked at him. "You are unbelievable."
"Answer the question."
"We are opening a music studio, and that is none of your business, but I am telling you anyway because I want you to understand that my life is moving forward with or without your permission." I stood, picked up my bag, and looked at Gawain. "Can we finish this at the office tomorrow?"
"Already on my calendar," he said.
I walked past Kael without looking at him. I walked past Elizabeth without looking at her. I walked past Leo, and I did look at him, just for a second, and what I saw in his face was not anger anymore.
It was confusion.
And he held Elizabeth close.
I stopped in my tracks, turned to Elizabeth and said, “Don’t bother me again, because I won’t lend my violin to my husband’s mistress.”
Everyone turned to look at Elizabeth.
“Mistress?”
- Writer
