Page 62 of Reverence

In a haze of pain, of her entire existence falling apart, of her life seeping like water through her clumsy fingers, Juliette frowned at the stream of tears pouring down cheeks that were even paler than usual. Katarina was saying something, her mouth moving, those full lips dry and trembling. Juliette desperately tried to understand, but the roar in her ears was deafening. She shook her head, the pain searing into her brain, a hot iron spear.

Katarina!

The stage lights were dimming, Juliette’s vision blurring at the corners, and no matter how much she clawed to stay, to wipe those tears, she could only whisper the name over and over before the blessed darkness claimed her. At least in the pitch black, nothing hurt anymore. Not her leg, nor that place where the heart she had foolishly given away had been.

PART III

CODA

23

OF AWAKENINGS & RAIN-WASHED TEARS

There was no movie-like awakening. No slow awareness, no wondering where she was. Even before she came to, Juliette knew she was in the hospital. The pain in her right leg was such that her opening her eyes was accompanied by a scream and wrenching against the bed.

No graceful, ladylike recovering for Juliette. She almost laughed, except her throat was dry, her lips chapped and splitting immediately as she twisted her mouth, filling it with blood. What a familiar taste. And the arms that held her down were familiar too. Both sets.

“Well, you always knew how to make an entrance, amor.” Francesca’s words were teasing, but her tone was filled with worry. Juliette hated that. She fought the heaviness of her lids and almost won when the second voice joined in and Juliette immediately threw her eyelids open.

“Yes, however, she made an exit first, and that one will be remembered probably forever.”

Helena, surrounded by the halo of the overhead lamp, looked changed. Tired. Somehow wrung dry. And her fingers were bloody.

“What is it with the women in my life and blood on your hands?” Her own voice sounded broken to Juliette’s ears.

“I don’t know, dear, but this is yours. Your mouth is bleeding.” Helena dabbed at her lower lip with a piece of gauze Francesca had handed her and then stood back, giving Juliette a long look. The pursed lips were par for the course, as was the incoming lecture, but the gaze was sad, and Juliette knew. She just knew. Still, she had to ask.

“Am I done?”

Helena and Francesca exchanged a telltale glance, and whatever Juliette’s previous knowledge was, it solidified. She kept silent, waiting for the words that would end her career.

Francesca teared up and turned away. Helena took her hand and looked her in the eyes.

“Yes.” She laid the word on the bed next to Juliette like a live grenade.

There was silence after that, Juliette realizing her mind had gone completely blank. She didn’t have any questions. The pain was ravaging her entire right side, even her teeth were singing with it, the intensity of it taking over her thoughts for one blessed moment. She didn’t have to think at all. Not about Katarina. Not about the fact that she’d never dance again.

“Hamstring, anterior cruciate and medial collateral ligaments, tibial shaft… Dear…” Helena seemed lost for words. Juliette could sympathize.

When Helena gave up on explaining, Francesca took over, waving her away theatrically. A touch too theatrically. “They repaired the tendons, and the bone will heal. Moore is pretty hasty here with her diagnosis that you’re done, amor. If anyone can recover from this and dance, it’s you.” But she did not sound sure, and the tremble in her voice, the scratchy false note, abraded Juliette’s senses.

“It’s okay.”

Helena's laughter held even more of that falseness. The choked whimper it ended on said as much. “Look at you, Jett. You are consoling us from your hospital bed.”

Juliette allowed her lips to stretch into a facsimile of a smile. The taste of blood returned, as did Helena’s gauze.

“I don’t know what you two are doing here. Of all people…” She let the end of the sentence dangle, leaving Helena and Francesca to exchange looks again. This time, it was the latter who answered.

“In true lesbian tradition, amor.”

Juliette felt her chest shake in what surely was a pathetic reaction to such a good joke. This entire situation was ridiculous.

“How long…” The shake turned into a wheeze. She coughed, then coughed again, trying to catch her breath. The pain overtook her, the lack of oxygen making her lightheaded. The lights dimmed again.

Waking up the second time was like finding herself in a sealed tomb. She blinked once, twice, and then the panic set in, the surrounding darkness smothering her, swallowing her whole. Juliette tried to open her eyes, her hands desperately clawing at her face, at everything around her.

“Juliette! Stop, stop! Please, I’m here.”

---