Page 63 of Phantom
“Did you become manic?” Her mouth falls open and works on empty air as she tries to answer, so I fill in the blanks. “It seems as though your anxiety and fear of the unknown got the better of you this time rather than mania. That fear that you were going ‘batshit crazy’”—I give her a pointed look to show my dislike for that particular phrase—“that was why you took so much medicine last night, right?”
She nods slowly.
“Well, how do you feel today?”
She pauses, seemingly assessing herself from within. “Other than some fatigue earlier… I feel fine. Good actually.”
I nod confidently, having already guessed the answer. She doesn’t need to know that I’ve studied her descent into madness with the same fervor I do studying sheet music likeGaspard de la nuitby Maurice Ravel, one of the hardest songs to play in the world. I mastered the intricacies of that piece and I’ll master the intricacies of Scarlett Day the same way. I’ve had a decade of learning how to predict another person’s moods. She’s had barely a year to understand her own. I understand her anxiety, but diligence and continued remission will help her be confident in her own ability to judge her future.
A curl falls in her face and I push it to the side behind another. “Sometimes happiness is just happiness,ma jolie petite muse. There’s no need to second-guess it. Just enjoy it.”
Her brow rises, lifting her mask with it, as she looks up at me with hope. But just as quickly she shakes her head and challenges me with a huff. “You’re so confident. How do you know I wasn’t on the verge of a manic episode? How do you know that after every solo show, I won’t get psychotic again?”
Even while she fights me, she longingly admires the stage, as if her dream was miles out of reach instead of just across the room. The singer of the band announces a break and an idea percolates.
“Come with me.”
She narrows her eyes and watches me warily. ”Why?”
“It’s just a theory I’m testing.” A smile quirks my lips and I grab her hand, not giving her any further opportunities to second-guess herself or panic. “Follow my lead.”
Entr’acte
Scene 15
BLACK AS NIGHT
Scarlett
“Sol! What’re you—” I squeal as he practically picks me up to whisk me away to God knows where.
Wait, no… Iknowwhere.
The stage.
“Sol, stop!” I hiss as we pass through the throng of dancers. He lifts me up by my waist and plops me onto the stage. I lean in to yell at him and stop in my tracks.
The left side of his face, the expressive side, is sohappy. He’s excited about this. But…
“I can’t, Sol—”
“If you’re so worried about disappointing people, what about me? I’ll be disappointed if you don’t sing your heart out right now.”
“I can’t, Sol. I can’t do this,” I insist, wringing my hands and barely resisting the urge to swipe the sweat already gathering there onto my new dress.
His hopeful grin makes my heart race even faster than the prospect of singing onstage right now. “Please, Scarlett? Trust me.”
I want to.
I bite my lip and look out at the crowd. Most are hardly paying attention to me, still swaying and dancing to the house music now that the band has stepped off for a much-deserved drink. But a few are looking at me with curiosity, including Sol’s brother, Ben.
Maggie sits beside him, and I catch Jaime just a table over. I give a timid wave to them both, just now realizing that I haven’t even had my phone since my rehearsal yesterday. It’s usually glued to my hand, but I don’t even miss it.
Focus! You’re about to sing solo in front of all these people…
Jaime is swaying in his seat, obviously drunk already, but he seems subdued, and his eyes are tense as he smiles. Maggie is grinning like a supportive big sister, her tight curls bounce as she nods at me and mouths, “go for it.”
I sigh and look back at Sol. Sincerity has replaced the mirth and he grabs my hand before stepping easily onto the high stage. He bends low and whispers in my ear as his fingertips lightly caress my bare lower back, making me shiver.
