Page 104 of Free to Believe
I smile briefly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back to walk you down the runway soon enough.” I turn and walk away.
“Em!” Dani’s yell causes me to pause. “It’s limitless. It’s timeless. It forgives everything.”
I turn around slowly. “Maybe when you’re lucky enough to be cherished, Dani. Instead, I’ve only found the kind that wants to shove me to my knees begging.” I shake my head back and forth. “Not anymore. I’d rather go stone-cold dead inside than ever feel like that again.”
Without another word, I move back to the stage manager. I shrug on the cape I’m wearing over my finale dress.
“Get them quiet out there. I’m ready.”
From the wings, I watch as the lights flicker on and off. Soon, a spotlight displays the Amaryllis Designs logo in white against a black backdrop, and the music drops until there’s nothing but silence. They’re waiting for me.
Handing me a microphone I was warned in advance would be live, he whispers, “Knock ’em dead, Ms. Freeman.”
Stepping from the wings, I’m at first overpowered by the thunderous applause as the spotlight hits me. Giving myself a moment to adapt to its blinding heat, I attempt to pick out my family in the second row. Except Holly. I ensured she has one of the coveted front-row seats.
There. I see Cassidy’s long hair in a braid over one shoulder. She’s holding Phil’s hand on one side and Ali’s on the other. Ali’s got Corinna’s hand. Corinna’s arm is draped over Holly’s shoulder. Holly’s camera is already raised and trained on me. They’re all there for me.
Just like they always have been. Just like they were while I’ve been healing. Just like they always will be.
And in my soul, I know I won’t break over what’s happened. I will go on. I can do this. The words just flow from my lips.
“Thank you for coming. I’m Emily Freeman. On behalf of Amaryllis Designs, I’m honored for you all to be here for our first show!” After I wait for the applause to die down, I continue. “Before we start tonight’s show, I’d like to tell you a little bit about my collection, ‘Silence.’”
My voice strong, I continue. “Because of a family tragedy when I was a young girl, I didn’t speak for years. It was through my art that I actually communicated. It was my healing, my therapy. It became the only way I could speak.” I try to calm my racing heart. “I found my voice. I fought for it back then. Recently, there have been some events which tried to steal my voice.” I pause in astonishment at the uproar of support from the crowd. “I refuse to let that happen. Then. Now. Ever again.” I pause as the cheering starts again. “The dresses you are about to see are what rescued me from my silence, from my despair, from myself. It’s stronger than a ring. More lasting than a picture. It involves vows, solemn ones, spoken between people who know what the words ‘Till death do us part’ truly mean. So, with that, I’d like to dedicate this collection to the brother and sisters of my heart. Phillip, Cassidy, Alison, Corinna, and Holly, there are no greater vows than the ones we spoke together.” The only one whose tears I can’t see are Holly’s because her camera is in front of her face. But I know they’re there.
“I now give you the last time you’ll ever see my silence. Because let me assure you, if you can’t be yourself, if you can’t speak freely with the ones you love, you’ll never be free to love. Enjoy the show.” I step behind the wings and hand the mic to the stage manager.
Three.
Two.
One.
Katy Perry blares through the Skylight as the first model steps out on the stage in the mummy wrap dress I designed so long ago when I first arrived in Nantucket after I ended my engagement to Bryan.It feels like a different me walking down the stage, I think critically. I hear the gasp of the crowd as the model turns and the deep asymmetrical V in her back is shown.
Perfect.
As she saunters down the runway heading back in our direction, a little of the knot in my stomach releases.
One down, twenty-nine to go. Including the dress that my heart and soul are presently sewn into.
As the second model heads down the runway to Kelly Clarkson, the gasp is immediate. The sheer gown that is essentially the reenactment of my being dragged out of my bedroom by my hair looks provocative. Suggestive.
What it also does is scream out loud the words I couldn’t say when I was seven years old.
Finally.
* * *
Every time a modelwalks down the runway, the knots in my stomach are moving closer to my throat. Finally, it’s just Dani in the wings. Standing next to me, she reaches over and links our pinkies together as the final model before her poses at the end of the runway. “You didn’t just break your silence, Em. You shattered it,” she whispers.
“That was the point,” I murmur back.
She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Let me be the first to tell you, I am so proud of what you accomplished under circumstances most people would have buckled under.” Cutting fierce violet eyes toward me, she murmurs, “I’m honored to be wearing any dress of yours, but particularly this one.”
“Dani…”
“This dress is the physical manifestation of your love, Em. It’s wrapped all around me. Every stitch you sewed was to prove your heart was still beating—that my asinine cousin didn’t take it from you. And the song I’m walking to?” She shakes her head, causing ripples of tiny amaryllis flowers to sparkle. “Perfection.”
