Page 33 of Symphony of Salvation

“Are you… interested in this man?”

“Did you know he played with the Royal Philharmonic?”

“Yes, butIread his bio, unlike someone else I know. Are you interested?”

“He guest-conducted in Vienna for a time too.”

“Niles.”

Heavy gray clouds moved across the sky, drawing my eye. “August has a lot more layers than I expected.”

“August? You’re on a first-name basis?”

“He insisted.”

“Huh. These are all lovely qualities, but none of them answer my question. Can you focus?”

I scrubbed a hand over my face to get the blood flowing. “No, I’m not interested in him, and it wouldn’t matter if I was. He’s out of my league and probably straight.”

“I refuse to address the first statement, but I can tell you, there is noprobably straight. If the man was fixated on your mouth—especially while under the influence of an inhibition-lowering drug—I’d be more apt to say he’sprobablybisexual.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t matter. I still don’t like the man.”

“But you find him attractive. You’ve said as much.”

I huffed. “Of course I do. Use your eyes, Koa. The man is gorgeous. One more perfect thing to add to the list. I’m not interested.”

“Only because he has everything you’ve ever dreamed about, and you’re jealous.”

The warning bell rang with a shrill, skull-splitting cry. I winced and pressed a hand to my temple. “On that note. I should go. I think it will be a day of quiet theory study.”

“You won’t get away with that this close to midterm testing.”

“Goodbye, Dr. Burgard.”

Koa smiled. “Goodbye, Master Edwidge. Take it easy today.”

“I’ll try.”

Koa opened his novel before I slipped into the hallway. Students flowed around me in their race to get to class on time. Their hoots and hollers jabbed like knives into my soft brain tissue.

In the empty music room, I absorbed the quiet, taking to my desk to work on upcoming report cards instead of tinkling on the piano as I usually did during my prep time. Halfway through first-period spare, coffee empty and mind clearer, I abandoned paperwork and found the classroom laptop.

Until now, I’d obdurately avoided searching August’s accolades online, knowing that whatever I found would drive a rusty nail into already tender flesh. But curiosity got the better of me after our late-night rendezvous and conversation—or maybe I wasn’t ready to feel better and needed to add insult to injury.

Was it highlights of a prestigious career I was after or evidence of a deviating sexual compass?

What I discovered was the former, and it left me speechless. The maestro had lived the life I’d dreamed. In comparison, my accomplishments were embarrassingly thin.

I discovered the three World Classical Music Awards, given at age fifteen, nineteen, and twenty-seven, for uniqueinterpretation, exquisite piano playing, and composition, respectively. After obtaining a Juilliard degree, August joined the Mariinsky Theatre Orchestra in Russia. I knew from our conversation that he’d taken leave of the orchestra for a short time to guest-conduct in Vienna, where he met Chloé. According to my research, he earned first chair in the flute section with the Royal Philharmonic in 2012, and he kept it until 2017.

My hangover-addled brain did the math and discovered that his departure from the Royal Philharmonic coincided with Constance’s cancer diagnosis at age seven.

Between 2017 and 2020, his resume was more sporadic. He conducted short term for several orchestras in several countries. He wrote over two dozen compositions and performed several private shows. None of his compositions had been officially published to date—a grievance in the music industry, but an unwavering decision made by the maestro himself for reasons unknown.

In 2020, August moved to the United States to take first chair with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. He hadn’t elaborated on his stint playing house with Chloé, nor had he sounded thrilled, and I suspected it had been a trying time in his life, considering he’d admitted to never wanting to be a father.

Why he left Chicago and how he wound up with full custody of his daughter, living in Ontario, was a mystery. It seemed I was not going to find those answers online.

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