The Stars That Tremble (21 page)

As the song progressed, Gio’s grip on Mike’s hand became firmer, until a break when an off-stage choir sang an interlude, when Mike pulled away and put an arm around Gio instead. Mike wasn’t sure how Gio felt about public displays of affection, but as it seemed Gio was about to lose his grip on his emotions, the situation seemed to warrant it. Plus, from Mike’s casual observation, they were definitely not the only gay couple in the audience.

By the time Robelleschi got to the “
Vincerò
” part at the end, Gio had buried his face in Mike’s neck.

Mike rubbed Gio’s back when the song was over. It wasn’t until the next singer was a few bars into her aria that Gio lifted his head and said, “That was harder than I thought it would be.”

“I’m sorry.”

Emma, bless her, said, “Hey, Daddy, can we go find the ice cream cart?”

“Sure, sweetie. You need some money?”

“Yeah, that would be good.”

Keeping one arm around Gio, Mike managed to fish his wallet out of his back pocket, pull out a few bills, hand them to Emma, and put his wallet back. Parenting—all about multitasking. “But I thought Isobel is vegan?”

“Maybe they have Italian ices or popsicles,” Isobel suggested.

“Don’t wander off too far, and call me if you can’t find us again,” Mike told Emma. “I’ll send up a flare.”

When the girls were gone, Mike pulled Gio closer.

“Thank you for holding me together,” Gio said, lifting his head a little.

“Not a problem. It’s what I’m here for.”

“Ha. Did I not just promise to do the same for you?”

Mike’s heart warmed at the memory. “Then it’s your turn next time.”

There was a brief silence before Gio said, “It’s quite something to have the worst moment of your life reenacted on stage.”

“I can’t even imagine.”

Gio leaned on Mike’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Believe me. I know better than anyone how your life can just completely change in an instant. You lost something important to you. You don’t have to pretend that’s a small thing. I know it wasn’t. So, you know, you need something, I’m here.”

Gio sat up. The singer on stage hit a high note that made the moment seem more dramatic. The music swelled, the singer bellowed, and Gio gazed at Mike with tears in his eyes.

Mike fell irrevocably in love in that moment.

“An instant,” Gio murmured.

Mike smiled, for once feeling like everything would be all right. “But maybe life can change for the better in an instant too.”

Gio kissed Mike. It was a surging kiss, their lips meeting in a rush, the huge crowd of people around them, a few stars poking through the city haze above them, a soprano belting out her passion on the stage. It was up there with the most romantic moments of Mike’s life. He raised a hand and ran it through Gio’s hair, wanting to touch him more, wanting to pull him closer.

“Dad, that’s gross.”

Gio and Mike pulled apart abruptly. Gio laughed. “I imagine this is what having children is like. Perfect moments disturbed by pesky teenaged girls?”

“That’s about the sum of it,” said Mike.

Emma and Isobel sat back on the blanket. “Here,” Emma said. “I got you guys some ice cream sandwiches. We rushed back so they wouldn’t melt.”

“That was nice of you, Em,” Mike said.

The show wrapped up after a few more arias. When it ended, everyone stood, and Gio said, “Hey, Emma, are you interested in meeting some of the singers?”

Emma’s eyes widened. “You can do that?”

“Sure.”

“Gather up all the trash, girls,” Mike said. “Then we can go meet the singers.”

“Wow, you’re tough,” Gio said with a laugh.

A few minutes later, Gio led them to an area behind the stage. He had a few quiet words with the security guards. One of them disappeared and came back a few minutes later with one of the singers. He was a tall, barrel-chested man, still in his tux from his performance. Mike couldn’t remember which aria he’d sung, but he had a surprisingly deep voice when he spoke.

He gave Gio a fierce hug, which Mike did not appreciate.

“Ah, Robert, how are you?” said Gio.

“Even more delighted now that you’re here!” This Robert had a British accent. “What did you think of our little summertime gala?”

“Marvelous.
Bravissimo
. But you don’t need me to tell you that. I mean, what should I say? Some of the best singers in the world just did a free concert, but, you know, it was just all right.”

Robert laughed. “Yes, well. Would you like to come back?”

“I would if I can bring my entourage with me.”

“Of course. Come on back.”

They all followed Robert into a backstage area. Some of the singers and musicians milled about. A woman spotted them and squealed. She ran over and gave Gio a hug.

“Gio! So you
were
in the audience!”

“I was.”

“It’s so wonderful to see you!” She stepped back and looked around. “And who have you brought with you?”

Mike looked down at Emma, whose face was all naked awe now.

“You’re Rita Martinez,” she said, her eyes huge. “I have the CD of you as Mimi in
La Bohème
. It’s so great.”

Gio put a hand on the small of Rita’s back. “Rita, this is Emma McPhee, a bright young opera student. Remember that name, because in ten years, you will be competing for parts with her.”

Rita shook Emma’s hand. Emma still looked completely starstruck.

“This is her friend Isobel, who is a violinist. And this is Emma’s father, Mike.” Gio looked at Mike with a soft smile on his face. To Rita, he said, “
Lui è il mio innamorato
.”

Mike guessed what Gio said both from context and from the look on Rita’s face. She smiled brightly and shook Mike’s hand. “It is wonderful to meet you,” she said.

Gio took them around and introduced them to a number of the singers. Emma was in heaven, asking for autographs and gushing at the singers she liked. Mike found it gratifying that Gio continued to make it clear that they were together, although he wondered at the wisdom of that in light of the fact of that parent who said she’d make trouble for Gio. Still, these were opera singers, associated with the Metropolitan Opera and not with the Olcott School, so Mike told his doubts to take a break so he could just enjoy being with Gio. It was quite nice being introduced as Gio’s significant other and made their relationship tangible in a way it wasn’t always, as if telling strangers about it confirmed it wasn’t a fantasy.

They ran into Gianni Robelleschi, who looked like he was about to have a stroke as he greeted Gio. They did the introductory song and dance once again, although this time, Gio put his arm around Mike’s waist and held on through most of the conversation. Mike thought perhaps he was seeking strength or reassurance.

“I hope I did the song justice,” said Robelleschi. “I’ve been wanting to play Calaf since I was at university.”

“It was lovely,” Gio said, which Mike thought was charitable of him.

“Yes, marvelous,” Mike said to be polite, even though he barely remembered the performance. “Gio, we should probably get the girls home before it gets too late.”

Gio nodded and mouthed “thank you” and then shook Robelleschi’s hand before departing.

They walked out of the park together, despite Mike pointing out that Gio lived on the west side but they were walking east. Gio said, “I want to spend as much time with you as possible.”

Mike wanted to invite Gio back to his apartment, but didn’t think he should, under the circumstances. For one thing, Isobel was sleeping over, and having Gio over just seemed inappropriate. So when they got to Fifth Avenue, Gio said he’d get a cab back across the park and Mike pulled him into his arms and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” said Gio in Mike’s ear.

“It was good for me too.”

Very quietly, Gio said, “When can I get you alone again,
caro
? When can we spend a night together?”

“Soon. I’ll try to work something out.”

“
Dad
,” said Emma, a plea in her voice.

“All right, all right.” Mike pulled away from Gio. “Soon,” he said.

“Soon,” said Gio with a smile. Then he hailed a cab and was gone.

S
OON
was impeded somewhat by the pending Young Musicians Program auditions. Gio was so busy prepping for his fall classes and attending department events that he couldn’t make time for Mike, who was likewise occupied with his own work and getting Emma ready for the audition.

Gio wrestled with whether it was a good idea to pop into the auditions. He was in his office that morning anyway—why did no one tell him when he agreed to teach how much nonsense paperwork there would be?—so when Dacia stopped by and said, “I’m headed to the studio,” he thought to himself that perhaps he could just say hi to his workshop students and then disappear. Well, and he’d see Mike, of course.

About ten minutes before auditions were supposed to start, he popped his head into the classroom where all of the singers and their parents were gathering. Naturally, the first person he ran into was Tracy Quinlan.

“Mr. Boca!” she said brightly. “How nice of you to stop by! I thought you didn’t have anything to do with these auditions.”

That was certainly a leading statement. He took it for what it was and said, “I don’t. I just wanted to stop by and see which of my students were here. I thought I’d wish them good luck.”

Over the top of Tracy’s perfectly coiffed head, Gio spotted Mike talking with Emma in the corner of the room. He looked up and made eye contact with Gio. He smiled and went back to his conversation.

This was frustrating. In an ideal world, Gio could just stroll right into the room, greet Mike in a way that was appropriate but still indicative of the sort of relationship they had, wish Emma good luck, and stand on the sidelines with the parents. Instead, he had to make nice with Tracy Quinlan and the parents of all of the rest of his students who had come to the audition. Not only that, and he was probably paranoid, but it seemed best to stay away from the audition room for fear of feeding into any false perceptions.

Tracy said, “Amelia’s a little nervous. We prepared an aria from
La Bohème
.”

“Oh? Which one?”

“Sì. Mi chiamano Mimì.”

“Excellent choice,” said Gio, glad he’d talked Emma out of that one. The song was also out of Amelia’s range; she was really more of a mezzo but was, as many naïve but ambitious girls were, always gunning for all the prima donna soprano parts. Not to mention, it was not one of Gio’s favorite arias.

“I know it’s cliché, but I’ve always loved
La Bohème
,” Tracy said. “You are also a big fan of Puccini, are you not?”

“Yes.” He refused to elaborate. There were no words for how much Gio wanted this conversation to be over.

Tracy crossed her arms primly. “Amelia, darling, come say hello to Mr. Boca.”

Amelia trotted over and said hello.

“Wasn’t it nice of Mr. Boca to drop by your audition? Do you have any words of wisdom, sir?”

“Relax,” Gio said. “When you tense up, you tend to go flat, and you’ll want to be as on-pitch as possible.”

“Easy for you to say,” Amelia mumbled.

“Be polite,” her mother admonished.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Gio said.

Tracy gave him The Look that all parents did when they wanted to ensure he got them the right outcome. He supposed coming down here wrecked his plausible deniability.

Howell Loughton, the head of the voice department, strolled in. He walked right up to Gio and slapped him on the back. “For a man who so vociferously protested placement on the audition committee, it’s a little odd to see you here.”

Gio felt like he’d been caught in a lie, although logically he knew he’d done nothing wrong. “I was just saying hello to a few of my workshop students.”

“Ah, yes. Where is this prodigy you were telling me about?”

Tracy gave Gio a stern look.

Gio said, “Well, I wouldn’t want to say anything to bias the committee while they’re still in earshot, so we can discuss it later.” He gestured toward Dacia, who was chatting with Greg from the workshop. “Are you staying for the auditions?”

“I have a few minutes to spare. I thought I might watch a few.”

“Mr. Laughton,” Tracy said. “It is delightful to see you again.”

“Likewise, Mrs. Quinlan. How is your husband?”

“He’s doing well. He had to work this afternoon, unfortunately. But, oh, we did enjoy having you to dinner last week. We must do it again!”

It took a lot for Gio not to roll his eyes.

Howell chuckled. “Yes, definitely. Well. Good luck with your audition, Emily.”

“It’s Amelia,” said Tracy.

Gio excused himself to say hello to his other students, though he paused for thirty seconds to figure out the best route through the crowd. He talked to Marie first, and then Greg after Dacia had moved on, and then at last walked up to Emma and made a big show of shaking her hand.

“Well, this is awkward,” said Mike.

“I’m sorry,” Gio said sotto voce. “Both my boss and my nemesis are currently watching me, so I can’t do anything that would seem to be favoring Emma. Although once she opens her mouth, it won’t matter, hopefully.”