I am used to anxiety. Used to the nervous twisting of my gut and the rapid beating of my heart. But I’m not used to this.
Nothing.
It’s as though I’m floating, ungrounded and out of place. I glide through the room, ever so slightly in Michael’s wake. There are people I know and others I don’t. Everyone is dressed glamorously, some wearing masks which cover their entire face, others wearing more the suggestion of a mask. I am the only one free of one at all.
I pass through the crowd in a haze. I smile when I think I’m supposed to. I answer the questions I’m asked. Michael has his arm draped over my shoulders, tugging me from person to person protectively, as though I’m nothing more than a possession to show off.
We pass by my father, the monster. He wears the mask of a wolf. It’s gold, and the shape of it is menacing. It has his smile. He grips my arms as we pass, fingers digging into my skin.
“Don’t forget our little talk, my daughter.”
I simply stare at him until Michael jerks me forward, pulling me toward another group of strangers. It isn’t until Miss Marchand opens her mouth that I realize they’re not strangers at all. I’m standing in front of the members of my old dance company.
“So pleased you could make it.” Michael kisses her cheek. “I thought it would be a lovely surprise for Everly. She had no idea you were coming.”
Miss Marchand’s hair is down and hanging loosely around her shoulders. I’ve never seen her wear it like that before. She looks a lot younger. Monique is there as well. And the girl with the name starting with J. They all hold champagne flutes in their hands but none of them are drinking.
“Lovely to see you again, Everly.” It’s as though Miss Marchand takes pleasure in calling me by that name. “And happy birthday.”
I nod and smile demurely, as though I imagine Michael would want me to. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and tugs me close.
“I thought you were still working for the Priest?” Monique flicks her hair over her shoulder.
Michael winks and answers for me. “She got a better offer.” His hand slips from my shoulder and he winds his fingers through mine instead. “But I guess we better get the birthday girl backstage. You’ll be amazed at her performance.”
Previously, I would have felt sick at his praise and the expectation put upon me. Now I don’t care. I will dance, but I will dance for me alone.
The room I am to perform in has temporarily constructed stage. Bunched and draped tulle covers the walls and branches and feathers dotted with fairy lights hang from the ceiling. It gives off a fairy tale type feel. Whimsical and ethereal, as though we’ve stepped into an enchanted forest.
“You ready?” Michael asks as he peels the jacket from my shoulders.
I nod. Because there’s nothing else I can do.
“We’ll call everyone in and then we’ll start the music. You know your cue.”
The few minutes I spend alone, I merely stand still, waiting for the time to pass. I hear the flurry of the audience as they fill the room. I hear their murmured voices and their exclamations of adoration at the decorations.
Michael’s voice rings out, announcing the special event.
The crowd hushes.
The stage is shrouded in darkness.
The rolling notes of the piano begin.
The strains of the cello join.
I lift to pointe and step out onto the stage.
The spotlight turns on, both illuminating and blinding me.
There’s nothing but me and the music.
So I dance.
chapter twenty-six
JERICHO