The Last Note, Hudson and Lila meet again
Hudson lit a cigarette and watched the smoke curl toward the ceiling. The cabaret was dim, the trio soft, playing something old but unfamiliar. He hadn’t seen Lila in years. Not since before the war.
She sat across from him, small and quiet under her hat, her face half-hidden in the shadows. She was waiting for him to speak, but Hudson wasn’t sure what to say. He dragged on the cigarette and exhaled slowly.
“You look different,” he said finally.
“I should,” she said. Her voice was low. She didn’t look at him. “It’s been long enough.”
Hudson looked down at Lila’s wrinkled note, “Meet me at the Four C Notes. I’ll be waiting.” It had been several years since they had been together at this dark, smoke-filled East Greenwich jazz club, a favorite of artists, musicians, and those who lived outside the conventional lines. The place had memories for both of them—back when they were younger, and the world had not yet lost its innocence.
The war had left a scar on him, and it had left scars on others, too. Lila hadn’t been in the trenches, hadn’t seen what he’d seen, but she was scarred all the same. Her marriage to Tom had done that, though she wouldn’t say it outright. He’d heard the rumors. Heard about Tom’s habits, about the women, about the drinking.
“Why now?” Hudson asked.
She hesitated, fingers toying with the glass of wine before her. She hadn’t taken a sip all night.
“I had to,” she said. “Tom—he’s different now.”
Hudson looked at her closely. She had always been careful with her words, always deliberate, but there was something else now—something in the way she said it, something cold and sharp. He wondered if it was fear or something darker.
“I’ve heard about Tom,” Hudson said. “What’s going on?”
She didn’t answer. Not at first.
“He’s gone,” she said finally, her voice so quiet he had to lean in to hear. “I made sure of it.”
Hudson sat back in his chair, the cigarette burning low between his fingers. He studied her, but she didn’t meet his eyes.
“What do you mean, gone?”
“I mean,” Lila said, her voice firm now, “he’s not coming back. Ever.”
Hudson felt a chill creep up his spine. The jazz in the background seemed to fade into a distant hum. Lila wasn’t just talking about leaving him. That much was clear. She was talking about something else, something final.
“You know what you’re saying?” Hudson asked.
She nodded, still not looking at him. “It had to be done. He wasn’t going to let me leave. Not ever.”
Hudson stubbed out his cigarette, his mind racing. He didn’t know what to say. The girl sitting across from him wasn’t the Lila he remembered. This was someone harder, colder.
“You should have come to me,” he said, his voice low.
“And what would you have done?” she asked, finally meeting his gaze. There was something defiant in her eyes, something that scared him.
Hudson didn’t answer. He knew she was right. He had been too wrapped up in his own life, too caught up in trying to move past the war and make a name for himself as an artist. He had left Lila to deal with her own mess. Now, it was too late.
“What now?” Hudson asked. His voice felt heavy in his throat.
“I go away,” she said. “Disappear. You don’t know me anymore. Not after tonight.”
Hudson felt the weight of her words settle over him. The cabaret was nearly empty now, the band packing up, chairs being stacked on tables.
“You know they’ll look for you,” he said.
“They can look,” Lila said, her voice steady. “But they won’t find anything.”
Something about the way she said it made Hudson wonder just how long Lila had been planning this and how long she’d been waiting for this moment.
He looked at her one last time, trying to find the girl he had once known, the girl who had smiled at him from across crowded rooms, who had always seemed just out of reach. But she wasn’t there anymore. That girl was gone, lost to something darker, something neither of them could come back from.
Without another word, Lila stood up, pulling her coat around her shoulders,
and turned toward the door.
Hudson watched her go, the coldness in her wake settling into his bones. He lit another cigarette, exhaling slowly as the smoke curled up into the empty space where she had been.
This time, he didn’t try to stop her.
