Gavin and Roxanne ✔️

EIGHT

Gavin,

Sorry to sneak out on you, I have to get home and feed my poor kitties! I meant to have someone check on them. I don't want to wake you, you're adorable when you're asleep. I'm fine to drive myself, just a mild hangover, nothing some coffee and a cold shower won't cure.

There are no words to express how grateful I am for all you did for me. From the drinks, to (literally) a shoulder to cry on, to a warm, dry place to spend the night, to working your magic in the bedroom, you gave me everything I needed and more. You made me feel more alive than I had in, well, forever! You're a kind, sensitive, compassionate young man, and I'm very fortunate to know you.

As for where we stand now, I'm open to wherever this goes. I have no regrets at all about last night and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Let's get together and talk soon, OK?

See you at tonight's concert.

Hugs,

Roxanne

Roxanne's kind words raise my spirits and set my mind at ease. I'm relieved to know that things won't turn weird and awkward between us as often happens when people hook up like we did. You know, where you avoid speaking, making eye contact, even being in the same room together – only it's blatantly obvious to everyone else that something is up. I've seen that happen with my coworkers a few times, and the symphony gossip mill has an absolute field day with it.

I return to the last paragraph of Roxanne's note, to six words in particular. I'm open to wherever this goes. Until now I hadn't really thought about what changed, and how dramatically it changed. At this time yesterday she was just another face in the string section, a name on the program under 'First Violins', someone about whom I knew only the most cursory facts. And what, exactly, is she now? A friend, of course, but beyond that things start to get complicated.

Does spending a night together mean we're a 'thing'? Should we give dating a shot? Am I ready for another relationship so soon after Tierney? What would it be like to go out with someone so much older, to actually refer to Roxanne as my girlfriend? What would my brother and my dad think? What would Roxanne's daughters think about Mom dating someone barely older than themselves? And then there are our orchestra colleagues. Dating and marrying among musicians is very common; I can count at least eight couples within the Oregon Symphony alone – but there aren't any with twenty-six-year age gaps!

Before my mind spins totally out of control, I remind myself that I don't have to answer all of these questions right away, that there will be time to sort things out. I take a deep, focusing breath and read Roxanne's note once more. This time, I'm touched by her sweetness, her sincerity, the grace and elegance of her writing. Somehow she captures not only her own feelings about last night, but mine as well. I press the paper to my chest, smiling with an unbridled joy. It's only half past nine in the morning, but my day has officially been made.

***

That evening, about an hour before we're due to take the stage for our Saturday concert, I'm backstage at Schnitzer Hall. I'm huddled around a table with the rest of the Oregon Symphony percussion section – there are five of us in all, including Jeremy; we're going over the parts for this new piece we premiered on Thursday night that's also on tonight's program. If there's one thing contemporary composers love, it's writing elaborate percussion parts that include just about every instrument you can think of.

As we're discussing the strategic placement of brake drums and temple blocks over the din of fifty-odd musicians warming up, out of the corner of my eye I spot a now-familiar face on the opposite side of the room. Roxanne must have just arrived; she's rosining her bow, and her violin still sits in its case. She's every bit as lovely as she was last night – her concert attire of a long-sleeved black blouse and matching slacks is simple yet stylish, she's pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail, and her lips are highlighted in a vivid ruby red. I watch her tune and warm up, admiring her facile beauty, her firm but effortless grip on the bow, the ease with which her fingers glide up and down the strings...