The M Word (13 page)

Highland Park was a small city, less than
three square miles in size, next to Dallas, near the SMU campus,
and filled with expensive homes, upscale restaurants and parks.
Francesca lived in one of the older, but still very elegant
neighborhoods. She opened the front door herself. “Welcome,
Marius,” she said with a smile and peered at Brenda. “You must be
the wife. Come in.”

The wife
. It was strange to have that
label without even a first name attached.

Francesca was of average height with thick,
brilliant white hair arranged in a classic bun, low at the nape of
her neck. Her posture was excellent, without being rigid. In spite
of her age, she walked like a dancer. She wore solid black knit
pants and a turtleneck, and an ornate turquoise necklace.

Francesca led them into a music studio at the
back of her home. “What is it you do?” she asked Brenda. “Marius
told me, but I've forgotten.”

Brenda wondered if Francesca was drawing
battle lines. “I'm an assistant bank manager.”

“How . . . interesting for you.”

Brenda was not imagining it. Francesca did
not like her.

Francesca turned to Marius, completely
ignoring Brenda. “How has your practice been?” and for a few
minutes they discussed breathing and phrasing in the aria he was
practicing.

Marius stood by a large grand piano, ready to
demonstrate his progress, when Francesca turned to Brenda. “I'm
sorry,” she said coolly. “I don't allow anyone to sit in on my
private lessons. You may wait outside in the office.”

Marius laughed. “She's not going to steal
your secrets, Francesca. Let her listen, if she wants to.”

Francesca's eyes flashed with annoyance.

Brenda stood. “No, I'll be perfectly fine out
there,” she said quickly, and retreated to the adjoining office.
She closed the door to the studio.

Francesca's office was like its owner, cool
and elegant, from the oriental vase on top of a mahogany filing
cabinet, to the Persian rug underneath. Brenda looked at a wall of
framed pictures, all of them of Francesca standing next to
presumably famous opera celebrities. She recognized James Levine,
the Metropolitan Opera's conductor, but she didn't recognize anyone
else.

“One day, he will sing at the MET.”

Brenda startled. “I beg your pardon?”

Francesca walked over to her desk, and
shuffled through a few papers in a top drawer. “Marius. He has the
range, the phrasing, the true bel canto sound. In some ways, he
reminds me of Pavarotti. If he stays disciplined and focused, he
will have an amazing career. Donizetti, Massenent, Oftenbach,
Verdi.”

Brenda had only heard of Verdi, but she
wasn't going to parade her ignorance. She merely smiled.

“I admit, I was worried when I learned he was
married,” Francesca continued.

At last Brenda understood the cause of her
veiled animosity. “You were afraid he'd lose his focus?”

“No. I was worried about the sex.”

Brenda blinked. “I don't understand.”

“Sex. It's bad for the voice. Especially
tenors. It wastes energy they need for their singing. But I should
not have been concerned. His voice has been excellent these past
two weeks --” She paused.

Marius walked into the office. “Did you find
the rest of the score?”

Francesca waved a piece of paper in the air.
“Here it is.” She smiled up at him. “I was just telling Brenda
about some of my other students over the years.”

Marius put his arm around his instructor’s
shoulders. “Francesca is a genius. That's why I came to Texas, to
beg her to take me on as a student.” He smiled down at her with
gratitude. “She's given me back my voice.”

Brenda watched the interplay with interest.
Marius might not consider Francesca to be one of her rivals, but
she was. Brenda sensed that she would be as single minded as a
lover. She wanted Marius to succeed.

Francesca shrugged. “I can't take all the
credit,” she said modestly. “And we'll see how well you do in
December at the district competition.”

Brenda's gaze flew to Marius. “You're
entering a contest?”

He looked uncomfortable.

“Not just any contest,” Francesca explained.
“The Metropolitan Opera National Council Auditions. If he does well
at the district level, he’ll progress to the Regional, and then the
finalists perform in a televised concert in March. Very
prestigious, and --” another smile at Marius “-- we hope the
beginning of a very long and successful career.”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” Marius
cautioned.

Francesca clapped her hands. “Yes, back to
work.” She pointed to the studio door.

Marius glanced at Brenda. “She's a slave
driver,” he joked. “Are you sure you won't be bored out here?”

Brenda made herself smile. “No, I'm fine,”
she assured him.

That night, Brenda took a long time to get
ready for bed. She finally came out of the bathroom, wearing a long
pastel blue nightgown and matching sheer peignoir. Marius lay in
the bed, waiting for her. “This is new,” he said.

She nodded. “I bought it on my trip.”

“Nice,” he murmured and fingered the silky
material.

She stiffened.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You've been very
quiet tonight.”

“I've had a lot to think about.”

He sat up, and the sheet slid down to expose
his broad bare chest. “I didn't tell you about the MET auditions
because I'm still not certain I’ll be ready, and I didn't want to
get your hopes up.”

He had a habit of not telling her everything.
He hadn’t explained their honeymoon location or the fact that he
was pursuing a professional singing career. And if she hadn’t
confronted him, he might never have explained who Francesca was.
What else was he hiding?

She said, “When were you going to tell me, or
was it going to be a surprise? 'By the way, I won a district MET
Audition today'?”

He patted the bed next to himself and she sat
down. He put his arm around her. He said quietly, “I would have
told you in December, before the competition.”

She looked into his warm dark eyes. She
wanted to believe him.

He reached over to kiss her and she turned
her head so that his lips brushed her cheek.

“Something else is troubling you.”

She twisted the ribbons that tied her silky
robe together. “Francesca said that sex was bad for the voice.”

Marius threw back his head and laughed.
“Nonsense. The voice is getting better all the time. And
particularly since we've been together.” He kissed her ear. “The
abstinence theory is an opera myth, perpetuated by lousy tenors who
want an excuse. It's a sop to their egos to blame a weak vocal
performance on their bedtime exertions.”

Brenda gave him a questioning look. “But
Francesca seemed to think that it has an affect. She said your
voice has been better these past two weeks while I was out of
town.”

“No.” Marius was adamant. “She's an excellent
voice instructor, but in this area, she is mistaken.”

Brenda relaxed. “Are you sure? I don't want
to do anything that would jeopardize your career . . .”

He kissed her throat, and his breath fanned
across her skin. “Trust me. I know the voice, my instrument, better
than anyone, even Francesca. And being married to you -- especially
making love with you -- has been very good for me. The voice has
never been better.”

His eyes shown.

“Really?” she asked, wanting to hear
more.

He was amused. “I can tell I'm going to have
to convince you.” He reached for the ribbon ties of her peignoir,
but they didn't come undone with a simple tug. He leaned closer for
a better look. “What have you done?”

“I tied them into knots.”

He sighed with frustration. “On purpose?”

She smiled. “No. Not on purpose.” She put her
hands over his. “Here, let me help.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The leaves changed colors and Brenda hosted a
baby shower for Kelly, inviting her friends and family. Kelly had
learned through an ultrasound that she and Lars were going to have
a baby boy, so Brenda decorated her living room with blue and white
helium balloons. Brenda purchased a collection of some of her
favorite baby books, like
Goodnight Moon
by Margaret Wise
Brown, as her gift.

“I love this story,” Kelly exclaimed as she
unwrapped the package. “I love the part where the baby rabbit says
good night to the bowl of mush.”

Brenda smiled. She loved it, too, and hoped
one day that she would be reading it to her child.

But she’d been married four months, and she
still had her periods regularly. No baby, yet.

For years she had not wanted to get pregnant,
had actively avoided it, and now that she wanted to get pregnant,
it wasn’t working.

One morning, she came back to their bedroom
to get her earrings before she left for work and interrupted
Marius, who was praying. “Excuse me,” she said quietly, and closed
the bedroom door.

Later in the kitchen, while he prepared his
breakfast, she picked up her keys and said casually, “Next time you
pray, would you please ask for us to have a baby?”

“I will, but you can pray yourself.”

She shook her head slightly. “The odds are
better if you do the asking.”

“I don’t understand. Everyone can pray.”

“Yes, but I don’t think God is very happy
with me.”

Marius said, “I’m no theologian, but
technically, he’s not happy with any of us. We all sin,
Brenda.”

“I know.”

“And we all need his grace. It’s merely a
matter of asking for it.”

Brenda flashed a crooked smile. He made it
sound easy. But she appreciated Marius’ faith, even if she didn’t
understand it. “I just thought it could help,” she said simply.
“And since you’re already praying . . .”

“I’ll add that,” he promised. “Every
day.”

She picked up her purse and turned to go.
“Thank you.”

#

Deborah made another cake and everyone sang
“Happy Birthday.” Brenda stood in the living room, surrounded by
the family and friends that Marius had invited to celebrate her
birthday. He’d done it all, from emailing her friends to buying the
food and drinks. It wasn’t as large a crowd as at their wedding,
but there were at least twenty-five guests.
You really are
wonderful
, she thought as she smiled at him.

She mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

A few people brought cards and gifts, so
after the cake, she sat down on the couch to open them. Kelly gave
her a set of rhinestone jeweled bobby bins, which made her smile.
“My hair is finally long enough to use these,” Brenda said.
“Thanks.”

Afterwards, she wadded up the used wrapping
paper to throw it out. Someone asked what Marius had given her. “Or
maybe we shouldn’t ask,” Andrea teased in suggestive tones.

“This party is his gift,” Brenda said, just
as Marius added, “Actually, I have prepared something.” He smiled
at her. “A song.”

“Oh good,” Kelly said brightly. “I’m finally
going to get to hear you.”

Brenda felt a little twinge of concern. Not
everyone would like opera, but she hoped they would be
open-minded.

Marius walked back to the guest bedroom and
returned with a guitar.

“I didn’t know you had a guitar,” she
said.

“I bought it a few weeks ago.”

And had kept it hidden, as part of the
surprise for her. She watched as he adjusted the shoulder strap and
strummed a few cords. This was going to be interesting. She didn’t
know any opera songs that were accompanied by guitar.

“This song is dedicated to my wonderful wife,
Brenda,” he said in a clear, loud voice, which quieted the crowd
and got them ready to listen. Tonight he wore jeans and a simple
white t-shirt. He was beautiful inside and out.

He played an introduction, then began to
sing.

For a few seconds, Brenda was dumbfounded.
The sounds coming out of his mouth were completely unexpected. He
wasn’t singing opera. He was singing her favorite Country Western
song of all time -- Vince Gill’s
When I Call Your Name
. She
couldn’t remember telling him, but she must have, and he had
remembered. She couldn’t believe it.

And he sounded good. Just as he’d learned to
sing in different languages, he was able to put a little twang in
his voice.

She smiled broadly. This was so fun and so
sweet of him.

When he sang the higher notes of the chorus,
it gave her chills. It wasn’t the same as an operatic high C, but
it was wonderful to her.

As he sang, she realized that he had taken
time away from practicing his performance pieces for the MET
audition to prepare this song, for her. She was humbled by the
gesture.

When he finished, there was a stunned silence
from the crowd for a few seconds, then everyone clapped.

“That was great,” Kelly said, turning to her.
“If he doesn’t make it in opera, he can put on a hat and sing
Country Western.”

Brenda saw Marius’ professor smiling and
shaking his head ruefully as he clapped. At least he didn’t say
anything negative. She had a feeling, though, that Marius would
face some good natured ribbing when he went back to work on
Monday.

“Now, I am completely jealous,” Deborah said
in a low voice as she walked past. “You are one incredibly lucky
woman.”

Brenda smiled. “I know.”

#

Marius was riding his bicycle home in the
cold rain, thinking that perhaps it was time to buy a second car,
when a truck passing him on the left, swerved right. Marius swerved
right as well and misjudged the curb. The bicycle flew up and
skidded across sidewalk and lawn, taking him with it. Marius landed
in a prickly bush.

Stunned, he lay unmoving, gathering his wits.
Was he hurt?

He heard the driver of the truck slow down
for a few seconds, then speed off.