Chapter One
1995 ~ Brando
The ballerina twirled on one foot like a girl inside of a beautiful music box.
She went up in a fluid movement onto her toes, just on the tips, and spun around with a grace that belied the strength she hid. She was strong. Stronger than anyone I had ever seen. Somehow her elegance and her strength coexisted in the same space, one working in favor of the other.
It was almost impossible to look away from her. She drew the eye and captured the mind.
Snow danced around me, circling me in wisps and flurries, mirroring her movements. If I had to compare them, the girl and the ice, she was the more graceful of the two in her movements than the wisps of frozen rain floating here and there. She was by far the greater of the two miracles.
Framed by the window of the dance studio, her body was outlined by a painted forest around the rim. Fog blurred the glass from the chill of the weather and the toasty atmosphere inside. The frosted, plum-colored trees painted on reflected the Christmas lights of downtown Natchitoches, Louisiana in a way that made them seem alive with a pulse. Thin ribbons unraveling from each tree met another, creating another, interweaving in a way that connected them all.
The window scene could’ve been a nod toThe Nutcracker. I’m not sure. In fact, I’ve never even seenThe Nutcracker, only heard about it. Maybe saw a few pictures of it in a book.
Standing in the snow, I felt like I had been dropped into a strange universe, knowing nothing about anything. I didn’t even know the song she danced to. It was older, but I liked it.
I made a mental note to ask Maggie Beautiful about it later.
Watching her, I felt like time stood still and my world stopped spinning. There was no other way for me to describe the sensation—the experience. I ran a hand through my hair, thinking that over. I noted that the other girls were watching her too, even the teacher. The entire room had decided to study the main attraction instead of socializing at the party. She had transfixed them with the power she held in her grasp; she was a force of nature with purely ethereal movements.
The truth hit me in that moment and I took back my first impression. There was a way to describe the experience: I was ice stuck where I had fallen. She was the solid ground to my water.
Out of the blue, she kept me grounded, as though the rest of the world failed to exist. She was a girl I had known my entire life, but she didn’t know me. I had no idea who she had become as I watched a new version of the little girl I used to know. She might have grown—she had to be around fifteen now—but her scent was still familiar enough that I remembered it from a walk through her life.
Scarlett Rose Poésy.
I stuck my hands further into the depths of my black leather jacket, head down against the chill of the night, eyes stuck on her graceful form. She was in all blue, but she might as well have been covered in the color of her name.
She completed a perfect spin before she paused, doing a double take. Her brother Elliott had just walked into the dance studio. She smiled, her porcelain skin lighting within when her mind registered his presence. He smiled back and lifted the gift in his palm, offering it to her. She had forgotten someone’s present at home, and their mother had insisted we stop before our party to drop it off.
Scarlett brought her right hand flush to her lips and then offered it to him in a gesture that meant thank you in sign language. His skin, redder than hers, lit with the same blush. Brother and sister conversed back and forth for a moment in his language, the language of hands. He explained our plans—he told her that he had a date with Lisette and not to worry, he had gone with the earrings she had suggested.
This was true, he had bought the earrings, but he had also bought her an engagement ring. He didn’t want anyone to know yet. Not even his sister.
Scarlett went up on her toes, the perfect ballerina, and did some kind of dance for him, maybe showing him how happy she was that he had taken her advice. He clapped for her performance before he told her goodbye. He was in a rush; time with Lisette had become an urgent thing, and the ring was all he could think of lately. Like money, it was burning a hole in his pocket. I told him he was a fool in love. But what the hell did I know? He was certain they were meant to be because their names ended the same, which made me laugh soundlessly, the heat from my breath producing a cloud of smoke in the sharp night air.
Elliott turned and left, eager to get back to his car. He was the designated driver for the night. Scarlett went up on her toes, about to pick up her dance again, but as soon as she did, she came down abruptly, in a way that seemed almost painful. The gift fell from her hand, bouncing away from her for such a solid package. Her face went pale.
I took a step closer to the window just as Elliott came out of the dance studio. He knocked me on the shoulder, motioning to his car. Nick, another one of our friends, had been waiting in the passenger seat, the music steadily bumping while he howled out the window. Elliott smiled, motioning for me to get in the car again. So fucking eager. There was no rush. He had all night. He had the rest of his life.
I looked in at Scarlett again. She stood solid, not moving. The girls around her had started to clump together, whispering. Her dance teacher had moved to the opposite side of the room, talking to another woman, who I assumed to be another teacher.
There were times when I would forget the signs to communicate with Elliott. In those times, I usually pointed and spoke to make my point. Elliott understood me because we had been at it since we were kids, and he was an excellent lip reader, so we had a good relationship despite my lack. I never forgot the meaning of the signs, though, only how to use my fingers.
I pointed to my feet and mouthed, “Go on without me, Maestro.” I called him Maestro because of his obsessive love of music. He enjoyed the beat of it.
He narrowed his eyes as a puff of breath came out of his mouth. He lifted his fingers and moved them quickly.You’re not coming?
I shook my head, “Nah.” The words came despite the fact that he couldn’t hear them. He was excellent with nuances of the face and body.
“Come on, Fausti!” Nick called. “It’s freezing out.”
“Nah, dude, ya’ll go ahead.” I turned just before Scarlett came flying out of the dance studio.
“Elliott!” Scarlett gasped, propelling herself at him. She hit him with such an intensity that he rocketed backward, almost bringing them both to the cement. She clawed at his jacket, sobbing.
He motioned as fast as his fingers would allow, begging her to tell him what had happened. “Is it mom?” he managed to get out. “Dad?”
