Page 30 of Requiem

Brett 10

It takes three curtain calls and two encores for the audience to finally clear the hall. This has been one long day, and I’m looking forward to a late night date involving a stiff drink from the minibar, phone sex with Maggie and a good night’s sleep. I’ve just gotten my viola packed up and am getting ready to go grab my things from the dressing room when I hear my name from somewhere close by.

“Brett!”

Holy. Fuck. It can’t be …can it?

The voice is unmistakable. And frighteningly out of context. I turn around and, sure enough, I see my mother making her way backstage. Behind her are Aunt Elise and a short brunette who must be her partner, Dianne.

“Mom? What’re you doing here?”

“Your Aunt Elise and Dianne surprised me with tickets for your concert. Did you know they only live about twenty minutes from here? Oh, Honey, it was beautiful,” she gushes. “I wish your father could have heard you play with the Walton Quartet. He was so proud of you.” She steps close to me and puts a hand on the lapel of my tuxedo, patting it gently. As she looks up into my eyes, I can see she’s holding back tears.

I put my shock aside for the moment and pull her close to me. For once, I am the soother of nerves, the dispeller of fears and the giver of confidence that all will be right in the world. She allows me to hold her like that for a long moment before disentangling herself and pulling a tissue out of her purse so she can dab at her damp eyes.

“Brett, this is my Dianne,” Elise introduces us, stepping forward with her arm around the brunette’s shoulders.

I extend a hand to Dianne but she grabs me and hugs me.

“Oh, you! I’ve seen you perform more times than I can count,” she informs me with a squeeze that knocks the wind out of me. I think she might just have cracked a rib.

“Uh, really?” I’m not quite sure what to say to that. It sounds a little stalker-ish, actually. I guess Elise gets that feeling too, because she jumps in to elaborate.

“Over the years, we tried to see you whenever you were playing in town. We’ve seen you with your high school orchestra, with the McInnes Conservatory Orchestra and we even went to New York when you gave your senior recital.”

“Wow, I had no idea. I wish I’d known. I would have liked to reunite with you a little sooner.”

“Well, we’re here now!” Dianne exclaims happily. “And, my dear, that young lady of yours, Maggie, what a doll! We’ve already made her promise that the two of you will come spend a little time with us over the summer.”

Of course they love Maggie. Everyone loves Maggie. That is, with the notable exception of my brother.

“Well, I hope you all enjoyed the concert,” I say, hoping they’ll take the hint and head home.

They don’t.

“Brett, it was amazing. Absolutely beautiful!” exclaims Elise. “Oh, that piece, the trio, it was just mesmerizing!”

“I know,” I smile. “I love to stand in the wings and watch them play it.”

“That pretty little cellist is just superb,” Dianne marvels. “I love the cello. Could we meet her? In fact, I’d love to meet all of your colleagues!”

No fucking way. Not a snowball’s chance in hell I’m letting them get within a hundred feet of Julia.

“You know what, I think they’ve probably all headed back to the hotel by now. Why don’t you ladies just let me grab my viola and we can go get a bite to eat, okay? I’ll come and meet you out front in five minutes.”

I’m already turning away from them when my mother starts to follow.

“Nonsense, Brett. You haven’t been off the stage more than five minutes. I’m sure they must be back there somewhere, and who knows when I’ll have this opportunity again? We’ll go with you.”

I guess hell just got a cold snap. I know better than to argue with Trudy Corrigan about anything. Ever. I lead them out of the backstage area to the long hallway with the dressing rooms, holding my breath that no one is hanging around. Meeting Joe and Phil and Ingo is one thing. Meeting Julia is another.

“You know, Mom, it really is possible they’ve left already. We all like to get out as soon as we can after a performance,” I warn her, slowing down considerably, in hopes that this will actually be the case by the time we get there.

But Trudy knows me too well.

“I’m quite sure they will be gone if you keep moving at a snail’s pace, Brett,” she quips as her heels click behind me down the hallway.

When we get to Joe’s door, I rap gently, praying he’ll keep them busy while I slip down the hall to Julia’s dressing room.