Page 105 of Free to Believe
My voice cracks when I admit, “It’s all I can do to prove it to myself.”
We’re both watching the model who’s almost made her way back. It’s almost time. “What’s that?”
“That I’m not drowning without him. Without Jenna.”
The opening notes of the song play. “Let me help pull you from the waves, Em. None of us are going to let you sink into the abyss.” Turning, Danielle Madison hits her cue and takes the spotlight in my finale dress just as Avril Lavigne’s guitar strums pick up its pace in the song “Head Above Water.” As I see her long legs eat up the runway, the veil with the amaryllis-filled crystals takes flight behind her. Dani poses during the coda of the song, the lights illuminating her dress spectacularly, before turning and heading back toward the stage entrance, her face regal, her head held high.
Filled with beauty, strength, and pride. Everything an amaryllis should be.
Tears run unchecked down my face. As the music changes to Avicii, a celebratory cheer can be heard from the crowd. I let loose a smile—a real one. Damn, it feels good to know that if I have nothing, I’ll have this. Dani wraps her arms around me and starts swaying back and forth laughing. “Take off this cape, and let’s get you ready to walk the runway.”
Spinning around, I unsnap the cape and reveal the short sparkling, long-sleeved minidress I slipped on earlier in crimson red. Exactly the color of my amaryllis tattoo, which is on full display across my lower back due to the deep V in the back. I reach up and unsnap the clip holding back my curls. Flipping my head over, I fluff them out a bit. “How’s this for a statement dress?” I taunt sassily.
“I think the statement you’re trying to say is ‘Fuck you.’”
Grabbing Dani’s hand, I wait for the stage manager’s cue. Just as we step into the spotlight and Dani and I raise our hands jointly, I spy Jake, now standing along with the rest of the audience at the Skylight, a few rows behind my family. His mouth is agape. Ignoring his penetrating stare as I wave my arms back and forth, I murmur to Dani, “You’d be one hundred percent correct.”
Holding out her arm, she says, “Then sell it, my friend. Let’s take your victory lap so you can celebrate.”
And I start down the runway after my first successful fashion show.
Partway down the aisle, I’m stopped by Phil, who steps over the photographers to hand me a bouquet of flowers. “We’re so proud of you, Em. So damn proud of you.”
Grinning, I tell him, “Save it for the party backstage. I have a lap to finish.” Then I pull out a perfect amaryllis from the bouquet and hand it to Dani. She transfers it to her left and holds it high.
The crowd goes nuts again.
We finish our way around with a lot of shutters snapping, flashes popping, and enormous cheers both in the front of the house and backstage.
I hear the first cork pop and call out, “No one in any of my dresses better be drinking!”
Everyone laughs.
And the party begins.
64
Jake
From the fourth row, even I can feel the oxygen leave the room when Dani steps out onto the runway in her dress. For me, every dress that walked the runway was like watching Em’s personal sketchbook come to life. First was the mummy wrap dress with diamonds on the edge of each hem representing the suffocation of her engagement. Then the sheer dress that wouldn’t mean anything to anyone except someone who saw her drawings. That one depicted where she had been held back by the monsters who yanked her from her idyllic world as a child. Another dress that was so soft you wanted to wrap yourself in it—Mugsy. The high-collar lace dress for her Aunt Dee; the ballgown for her mother. Dress after dress of her private memories finally exposing her deepest secrets, her silence finally broken.
The world spun around me as Dani stood there in the spotlight. I don’t know what image inspired this dress, but I can suspect. As Dani strides down the runway, the train of the dress, which attaches at the shoulder, floats behind her as if she’s running away from something horrid and into the arms of something beautiful.
Away from pain and toward love.
This dress is the visual embodiment of every mistake I made. I figured it out within days of the accident, and regaining control of my emotions. I knew down to my soul that Emily would rather it have been her in the coma than Jenna. I knew the moment I went to go find her at the apartment and found her gone. I knew then—as I know now—Emily doesn’t give up on those she loves.
Now, she’s telling that to the world in a way that floats and twinkles under the lights as it moves.
“Oh, God, that’s the Legend dress,” I hear whispered by a woman sitting next to me excitedly.
“The Amaryllis Legend? Didn’t I read in the prep materials she sewed every stitch of that dress herself?”
“Yes,” she hisses. “Now, hold on. I’m sure there’s going to be something… Ah, there it is.”
And suddenly at the end of the runway, the spotlight turns bright red on Dani as she poses. Turning the Legend alive. I swallow convulsively. After I left Hudson Investigations the other day, I read as much as I could about the legend behind the amaryllis flower, learning more about Emily’s tattoo and why her family chose that symbol to bind their vow. Just like the flower, her dress is conveying that, much like Alteo turned Amaryllis away, the legend will go on.
Just like Emily will do without me.
