“What’s with Milan?” one of the oboists asked her as she hastened over the lawns.
“You’ve seen him? Is he here?”
“Yeah, we just saw him run halfway across Charles Bridge then stop and run back here. He’s inside. Looked as if he was about to have a heart attack.”
“What about Evgeny? Have you seen him?”
The oboist and her friends shrugged and shook their heads. Lydia ran onwards to the auditorium.
At first, she didn’t see Milan. The hall was almost empty apart from a caretaker vacuuming the plush seats. Then, walking forward, she found him slumped in the front row, his head in his hands, long legs sprawled out in front of him.
“Milan,” she said softly, moving to the seat beside him. “Did it go badly?”
He lifted his head and looked at her. He had tears in his eyes. She put a hand on his arm.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“What for?”
“I feel like it’s all my fault. Like I’ve split you and Evgeny up.”
Milan shook his head and grabbed her hand, squeezing it.
“It’s not your fault. Don’t be silly.” He sighed. “I don’t know… I’ve finished it with so many people before. This feels different.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“My reasons for finishing it, I suppose. Not because I’m bored this time. Not because he is too needy—although he is. But because I have a new life to make, and a real future in my own country. It felt like shedding a burden. I feel free. But I am worried about him, I must admit.”
“What did you tell him? What did he say?”
“I told him the truth. That I wanted to stay here, try to rebuild my relationship with my mother. He didn’t know how to take it. First he started talking about how difficult it would be for him to get a visa to stay here. Then he realised I wasn’t including him in my plan.”
“Oh, poor Evgeny.”
“Don’t say ‘poor Evgeny’! This is what you want!”
“Not like this, though. I wish nobody had to get hurt.”
“So do I. It’s not possible, though, is it? Anyway, he asked if you were staying with me. He didn’t like the answer and stormed off. I lost him in one of the side streets.”
“I wonder where he went. And if he’ll come back for the rest of the rehearsal.”
“I guess he’s gone to the hotel. Or he’s drinking himself senseless in some bar. Actually, that’s the most likely.”
“Shit.”
They sat in silence for a few moments. The caretaker left. As the door banged shut, Milan looked over his shoulder, then smiled lopsidedly at Lydia, red-rimmed eyes crinkling at the edges.
“Have you ever had sex in a concert hall?” he wondered aloud.
“Milan!” Lydia looked at her watch. “People will start coming back in about twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes is long enough for a knee-trembler, no?”
He moved his hand to her thigh, rubbing it while his lips found hers for a kiss. Their passionate embrace served to banish all the worries and concerns about Evgeny and bring their passion back into focus. As the kiss consumed them, Lydia found herself lifted to her feet by Milan’s strong arm around her waist, and moved back until her bottom bumped against the stage.
She lost herself in sensation, devouring his embraces, yielding to his hunger until her shirt buttons were undone and her jeans around her knees. She let him lift her so that she sat on the edge of the stage, legs spread as wide as her denim restraints would allow, hands grappling with his belt, wanting this to happen now, quickly, without delay.