Page 69 of Close Match
“I know. At first, I couldn’t believe it. But Stefano had to restrain her while another dancer went to go get Liz.” Sepi names one of the other instructors at BDC. “By then, the screaming could be heard in the other studios. Linnie, she’s a mess…”
“I can’t believe it.” I say that and yet, I can. Veronica has been deteriorating rapidly since my mother’s death. It’s like Mom was the conscience on her shoulder keeping her from drowning. Since she’s been gone, nothing and no one has been there to hold her back.
Certainly not me.
“Yes.” Sepi takes a deep breath. “Liz wants to know if you’d reconsider your patronage to the studio now that Veronica is gone. She understands you are on an undetermined leave of absence. She said she’d personally choreograph training routines for you and send them to you.”
“I don’t know what to say.” It’s a mutually beneficial offer—a very tempting one. Liz, next to Veronica, is a beast of an instructor. She’ll know where to push me to keep me in top shape while I’m gone. But… “I want her under an NDA, Sepi. I won’t be subject to the same vitriol if it all goes wrong and I decide to leave,” I warn.
“Done. I’ll get with your attorney and get one over to her today. I think you’ll both be pleased with this working relationship, Evangeline.”
I do too.But I don’t say it out loud. Instead, I stretch in preparation for a long run. Now that the days are getting colder and I’m more comfortable running the diabolical hills, I can start a little later. “What else have you got for me?”
“The parts that are coming in are much more interesting, but they’re roles Brielle would have played.” I frown. “It’s like people are expecting you to slide into your mother’s shoes.”
“No.” I shake my head in repugnance even though Sepi can’t see. “I don’t think so,” I declare.
“We may have to consider taking one of them unless you want to reconsider London or doing a film.” I’m quiet as I ponder what she’s saying.
My mother would tell me to look at the parts and think of the audience, but I worked damn hard for my reputation. I still have a few more years of lead roles before my age forces me to slow down. It’s going to be harder as certain obstacles I’ve had to deal with become even harder due to age. I refuse to back down now.
“Keep that on the back burner, but let me know if there’s anything that would make me leave Virginia right away. Oh, what are they saying about Simon’s hiatus?” Simon declared in a press release he doesn’t plan on working until after his and Bristol’s child is safely born. I released a statement through Sepi my wholehearted support for my brother-in-law and costar.
“They’re salivating to see whose stage he graces when he comes back.” Her voice is wry. Of course. Simon’s a male. It drives most actresses insane that men’s time on the stage isn’t limited by age. There are so few meaty roles for women in that in-between age.
“Of course.”
“He also said that he’d be disappointed to work with anyone but you again. So, I wonder if that’s not part of the reason people are tossing supporting parts at you. Directors may be saving the larger roles for when the Wonder Twins can get back on stage together,” Sepi thinks aloud.
“I’m not worried,” I lie. “In the meantime, keep me informed.”
“Will do. Talk soon.” Sepi disconnects the call. I slip my phone into the pocket of my warm-up jacket, plug in my earbuds, and take off at a brisk stride.
Alcohol has stolen so much from me: my mother, my godmother, and my sanity. As I run, I flash back to the tests I endured for my difficulty learning, seeing school psychologists because I wasn’t able to pass standardized tests, Mom and Dad—Patrick—fighting for me because I couldn’t keep up with the other kids in my grade, but there was no clear reason why. And although it was never confirmed it was due to Mom’s drinking, I’d see the guilt in her eyes when I’d be struggling.
My feet slapping against the pavement, I remember the times in college I’d struggle with requirements because of the intense amount of reading until Bris recommended having someone read my homework to me like a book on tape. Later, I did the same with my scripts, putting them into my long-term memory.
My whole life has been affected by alcohol from the minute I was born, and I’ve never had a drink of it. To do so would practically be suicide. I’ve been subject to everyone else’s reaction to alcohol my entire life.
What I want to know is can’t someone be saved from it? Just once? Why am I a target for the hurt and pain of alcohol abuse? Am I not worth fighting for—giving up the bottle for? Then I remember what my mother said to me: “Liquor complicates an already complicated person, Linnie. But they have to be willing to put it down and walk away. Giving it up has nothing to do with how much they love or don’t love someone else; it has everything to do with how much they love or hate themselves.”
Tears blur my eyes as I think about how much pain Veronica must be feeling. If my mother was her heart, BDC was her soul. Maybe this will be the catalyst for her to get her life in order.
Hitting the halfway mark, I turn and run hard back toward the house where I’ve been welcomed with open arms. My thoughts and heart heavy. Even though I usually don’t dance on the same days I run, I think I’ll spend a little time in the studio today just thinking of my godmother and hoping the thoughts land on her heart through the many miles between us.
Thirty-Eight
Evangeline
It’s almost Halloween. I didn’t realize it gets as cold as it does in Northern Virginia. My breath is cold as I dash after breakfast from the house to the studio to dance.
After properly warming up, I feel like something sassy. My feet are flying across the dance floor, and my fingers are snapping. My voice echoes beautifully in the room as I taunt an imaginary audience. Okay. If I’m honest with myself, I imagine Monty as I tease him with this particular dance which is seductive and playful.
Since we came back from DC that day, he’s been more open about laughing with me. He hasn’t held back from casually touching me, which sets my body aflame. The problem is I can’t tell if it’s just me feeling this way. How do I know if he’s naturally this personable and I helped release some of the pressure built up in him so he can once again be himself?
Twirling around, I kick one leg up and then the other. I admire the long length the stiletto point gives to my kick. Slowly, I sway my hips back and forth as I walk around an empty chair. This particular show would generally have me wearing much more of a flimsy outfit than the running shorts and tank I’m presently dancing in, but it’s fun as I sink into a grande plié and then shift my hand to the ground to slide into a split in front of my “customer.” I fling my head down to my knee, still singing. Rolling my shoulders back, I finish with my back arched, one hand up, the other bracing my core.
Then I hear a slow clap. My head snaps toward the door.
