Page 25 of Reverence

Juliette took off her shoes, not bothering to keep the noise down. They were past pleasantries.

“No clue what you could be saying. I’m exhausted, I’m hungry, and I’m drenched. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a torrential downpour outside.”

Her stockings were next. Juliette’s balance still off and her breathing erratic, she did not bother going to her room. Katarina had seen her in a leotard. She’d have to deal with her tired, naked legs.

Katarina’s way of dealing was to have her eyes follow Juliette’s every move and glare at the expanse of skin on display. Juliette merely shrugged. Ballerinas were rarely afforded the luxury of privacy, and nudity was par for the course for their profession. They showered and changed in front of one another all the time. And she was past caring what this prude had to say, if she had anything to say at all.

“You’d be none of those things, if you endeavored to be home at a decent hour. Then maybe both of us would be getting a modicum of rest and not be exhausted for tomorrow’s rehearsals.”

Ah, so it turned out that Katarina did have things to say. Juliette took her time getting up from the little footstool and made her way across the room till they were face-to-face. Of similar build and almost identical height, every day Juliette understood more and more what Francesca saw in them as the perfect Odile and Odette. After all, the Prince did confuse the two of them, falling for the wiles of Odile and forsaking his love for Odette.

“What I do with my time to cause me to be as exhausted as I am is nobody’s business but my own, Katarina.”

The words were like puffs of smoke between them, and Juliette very much craved a cigarette. Maybe the stench oftobacco would exorcise the orange blossoms once and for all. Why had she never really gotten into the habit? And was it too late to start now?

An inch separated them, and Juliette ignored the little voice in her head that told her that playing with fire—or ice, in this particular case—was bound to leave her with burns. But she didn’t step back, and to her vicious delight, neither did Katarina. In fact, she showed no reaction at all, her face as inscrutable as before. The only signs of what Juliette interpreted as wariness were those unreadable eyes narrowing slightly and the chiseled nostrils flaring.

They stood for what seemed an eternity, darkness like a shawl around them, no longer a distressing sight for Juliette. When had that happened? When had she stopped being afraid of the dark? Something must have shown on her face, because Katarina narrowed her eyes further and then finally, with a slight bow of her head, stepped to the side and toward her room.

“Your time is your own.”

Katarina’s voice held a note of resignation, and as she took a few more steps away, Juliette whispered, “Obviously.” As retorts went, it was pathetically weak, but a flinch in Katarina’s shoulders told her that she nevertheless hit her mark.

Talk about pathetic. Bickering like children. So they had all this… animosity between them. Big deal. Juliette made her way through the dark apartment to the kitchen, where the small lamp was waiting for her. With a touch of her fingers the space was illuminated by the tiny pinkish light she left on every night.

Small, but mighty…

It chased the shadows away, and with them, her fears. She opened the fridge, more out of habit than with any determination to eat. A few wilted leaves of spinach and some kind of brown concoction in a glass that might have been her milkshake from three days ago made for a sorry sight. Therewould be eggs at the Opera cafeteria in the morning to give her an energy boost.

In her bedroom, the silence deepened. So did the solitude. It was her space. Nobody, not even the stranger in the next room, had access. Except, the usual familiarity and comfort of her room didn’t soothe her tonight. Restless, she crossed to the bedside table and the phone that stood there.

One breath… This was a bad idea. She should not be calling Helena just because she was lonely and her feathers were ruffled by a woman who seemed hell-bent on doing more of that every single day.

Two breaths… Time stretched, a spider’s web, so precariously fragile yet simultaneously deadly. Was she simply a fly trapped in it?

Three breaths… The shrill ringing of the phone made Juliette jump out of her skin for the second time in the space of twenty minutes.

She knew instantly who it was. As if she had summoned her into this dark, lonely night. Like magic. Like that previously described very bad idea.

“I had a feeling you were not asleep.” Helena’s voice was like smoldering embers in an otherwise empty hearth.

“It was a long day, longer evening.” Juliette sat on the bed, then reconsidered and stretched out, the phone call a blanket against the chill of the earlier rain.

“I hear you are pulling many of these lately, darling.Swan Lakewith two ballerinas is quite an undertaking.”

There was no innuendo nor judgment in Helena’s words, maybe just a touch of curiosity. After days of being antagonized, Juliette could live with that. Still, they had a rhythm to these nocturnal conversations, and Juliette knew her part.

“Is there anything Gabriel keeps to himself these days?”

Laughter on the line told her she had made the right choice by not giving in just yet.

“Gabriel is a treasure. And he is both elated and worried about you. He says it’s like herding two cats. Two angry cats. Is it true?”

Juliette thought about the confrontation in the foyer and wanted to confess. To simply tell Helena everything. They had always been absolutely honest with each other. But the apartment was quiet, flakes of pink light slipping under her door from the kitchen, and something held her back.

“You should come over for the opening night. Francesca promises that it will be quite a show.”

“And what do you think, Jett?”

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