Chapter One
Brando - Two and a half Years Later
The wounded never realize the depth of the cut while still on the battlefield. It’s not until afterward that the true extent of the matter reveals itself for what it is—will it be life or death?Now when I think back, I see the snow for what it was. A miracle.
Looking up at the sky, I thought about that night, and not for the first time. It hadn’t snowed in Natchitoches since that winter. The season I connected with her. Snow doesn’t come easy in Louisiana, and I liked to believe the rare occurrence was symbolic for what had begun.
Our story.
On the same day, at around the same time, I returned to the beginning. To the dance studio Scarlett’s parents owned. The place still looked the same. Dancers twirled and giggled, light music played in the background, and the outside window had been decorated to fit the season.
Now there was one glaring difference.
A new portrait had been hung. Next to the antique portrait of famed ballerina Maja Resnik was the newÉtoile(star) of the dance world, Scarlett Rose Poésy.
I moved my eyes away from the stars and stared through the window, hoping by some miracle that she’d appear. Instead, a little girl in frilly clothes ran next to the new portrait, pointing at it with a smile filled with crooked teeth.
A woman stood in front of her, ready to take a picture of the star-struck little girl and the dancer who looked like she floated on a cloud next to her.
My Ballerina Girl.
The spot over my heart ached, and I rubbed a hand over the tender area. The pain of sharing her with the world had increased with each day that passed. I went to Paris about a year after she left, but only to watch her. I had to make sure that everything I knew about her was true, that she was speeding through the ranks of the dance company, that she was safe, that she was happy.
Two out of three proved to be true. She was content, but not truly happy. Not the way she had been with me.
At the time, she had needed more time, even if seeing her and not touching her had been one of the most torturous things I’d ever done to myself. Second only to the space and time between us.
Laughter floated out from the studio and I turned toward the noise. Two women walked behind two bundled up dancers, their frilly skirts fanning out under thick jackets, and were starting to make their way down Front Street. They stopped for a moment when one of the little girls announced that she had forgotten her present in the class. The other girl went with her to retrieve it.
“I’m so glad that Lily was able to come here. The teachers are fabulous. Even though the teachers who taught Scarlett were only for her, you can tell they’re all world class.”
“I just wish Bethany would’ve been able to take a class with Scarlett. Did you know that she taught before she left?”
“I heard about it through the grapevine. But talent like that shouldn’t be wasted on teaching, Madeline. Unless…unless after her career is over she decides teaching would be worth her time. I bet she dances until there’s not one dance left in her.” She sighed, almost sounding wistful. “Then I could see teaching. And marriage. And kids. I bet her kids will all be dancers. I’ve always thought that the spouses and children of beautiful singers must be spoiled with the gift of song. I bet one day she’ll spoil her husband and children with her gift of graceful dancing.”
“You make it sound like a fairy tale, Lisa.” Madeline laughed.
No, far from a fairy tale, I thought. The demands on her body. The bleeding and blistered and calloused feet that sometimes resembled raw meat. The high injury rate. The emotional turmoil that accompanies losing yourself to something bigger than who you are just to give the world a glimpse of living art.
“Well, think about it. It is, isn’t it?” Lisa’s voice broke through my thoughts. “She’s extremely talented and beautiful. The world is at her feet, hypnotized. I’ve seen her dance. Whatever it is that makes people special, she has it.”
“You’ve seen her? She’s so tiny in person. Much smaller than she looks in pictures and when she dances.”
The woman’s comment came with another thought.Her pointe shoes are made to make her legs look longer. And it’s the way she dances. So graceful that she’s spellbinding. It’s all in how she moves her body. More than any of those things, though, it’s her charisma.She had always seemed bigger to me, and not just when she danced.
“I’ve never noticed,” Lisa said. “I’ve just seen her dance. I figured she was tall. Shelooksthat way in pictures and on video. She’s smart too. Can speak so many languages!”
“No wonder she ended up in France. She sounds just like a Frenchwoman. I hope she settles here.I’deven take classes from her.”
“I’ve never been much of a mover. I’m too rigid. It doesn’t stop me from dreaming about it though…”
The two women became quiet, staring toward the door their daughters went through, seemingly lost in thought. After a few minutes, the two girls came back out. This time they were crying. A steady release of steam came from all four of their mouths.
“What’s wrong?”
“Did something happen?” The women’s voices tripped over each other.
One of the little girls hiccupped, and fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “She’s not coming!”
