Page 54 of Reverence

“Out with the old, my dear. Out with the old.” He even winked at her, and Juliette felt the need to take a shower.

The company was assembled for the morning class, bodies lying in formless heaps here and there, others stretching at the barre, Gabriel and Katarina whispering in the corner, and Juliette studiously rolling up her leg warmers into neat little balls of wool. Surely her poor, thready garments had never been given such care, as she usually just threw them in the general direction of her bag. Whether they made it there or not was never a concern, she’d just pick them up much later.

“He is very loyal, and I hate that this dumb quality of his makes me like him more.” Despite the neutral face, there was a smile in Katarina’s voice as she caught up to Juliette after class.

“How is it dumb?” Juliette asked, barely lifting her head up. “It’s admirable.”

“Absolutes are not admirable, love, they are silly. He understands why you did what you did, and he still is mad. It’s dumb. But then, he’s a man.” Juliette had to smile at that, and Katarina squeezed her fingers briefly. “He will come around. He’s an idealist. And he loves you. He will come to understand that people sacrifice. Even other people. Our choices are just that, choices, and yet oftentimes the act of choosing is just a mirage.”

Juliette sincerely hoped Katarina was right and Gabriel would see that in her case, there had been no choice.

Still, days went on, and the burden of being the pariah du jour was getting heavier. She wanted to ignore the world, especially since the world adamantly refused to ignore her. She wanted it to give her space and time, and all these people kept crowding her with their hate and their sneering and their judgment.

The papers, the whispers in the hallways, the finger-pointing. Her colleagues wouldn’t talk to her, they wouldn’t sit with herat lunch, not that she was in a particularly social mood. But her betrayal of Francesca made the rounds of the Palais Garnier in a New York minute, which was probably just as fast as a Paris one.

Through it all, Katarina was her rock. Quietly efficient, endlessly thoughtful, she’d go about her business as usual. She had been an outcast since her arrival in Paris, and that had not changed with Foltin in charge.

She had, however, been forced to spend more time on the third floor, wasting entire afternoons in his office. It was something she clearly found difficult, if her face after every one of these sessions was a clue.

Juliette tried not to pry, not to ask too much. She had no right. It was none of her business. And yet, every time Katarina emerged from a meeting, she looked drained and weary. Withdrawn.

“He wants to know the lay of the land,” was all Katarina replied once to Juliette’s unspoken question, and they had never touched the subject again.

Juliette had no idea why she feared bringing it into the airy, bright lights that always seemed to surround them. Was she afraid of what Katarina would tell her? Surely she had heard the worst of the horrors. Surely?

She trusted this woman with her life, with her body. There wasn’t anything she could do or say anymore that Juliette couldn’t handle. And yet when she looked at the sunken cheeks, at the tired eyes, Juliette shrank a little, her heartstrings singing to the invisible chords of premonition. Hadn't they been through enough? Wasn’t it time for the world to stop? Just for a moment?

But since astronomy, geophysics, and planetary science were not contributing to make Juliette’s wishes come true, she ground her teeth and bore it all.

At home, Katarina treated Juliette as if she was wounded. The contrast to being shunned at work was rather stark. After two weeks of being babied and cared for, Juliette raised her face from the book she was pretending to be reading and finally gave voice to her fears.

“Are you feeling guilty? Is that why?”

Katarina put down the ice pack she had been applying alternatively to her own troublesome calf and Juliette’s knee and looked up for a long moment before speaking.

“I feel responsible.”

At Juliette’s feet, Katarina took her left hand in hers, slowly caressing each finger as she looked out through the wide-open window into the darkening Paris sky. Another storm was coming.

“I should have guessed whatever deal you made with Lalande would backfire on you. And I should have known you’d make the deal anyway. For a stranger, no less.”

“Who says chivalry is dead?” Juliette laughed, but even to her own ears it sounded false.

“Nobody says it. Maybe in a few decades, love.”

Juliette let the word wash over her. They had not yet exchanged anything but the most basic of nicknames. But Katarina had taken to calling herlove. To Juliette’s tired mind, wretched by worry, the thought of love had been off-limits. It had been swelling in her chest for months. Perhaps from the first glance, when blood marred Katarina’s fingers and shoes. Satin and crimson, and enraged eyes. How could Juliette ever dream of resisting? It seemed inevitable, really. Fated, perhaps.

But she hadn’t said it out loud. Katarina had been so skittish, and they had been so new. Scaring her, losing her to haste and her own neediness wasn’t something Juliette was ready to entertain. She’d wait. Just a little longer. And so when she spoke, she chose the most nonchalant of tones.

“I’d say it was chivalry, sweetheart, but I didn’t think through the implications. And he double-crossed me. Please, don’t ascribe much selflessness or thoughtfulness to me. Just foolishness.”

Katarina waited for Juliette to look at her. For a moment they indulged in the softness of the connection, blue on amber.

“I don’t doubt that he manipulated you. But I believe you knew what he was doing. Not realizing that my freedom would cost you a friend, the support of the company, and God knows what other repercussions isn’t a strike against you, Juliette.”

Juliette frowned.

“How does that not make me a fool?”

---