At night, I dreamed of things. A mishmash of memories. The darkness both welcoming me and attempting to spit me out. I usually came awake after a light blinded me.
From being in the darkness so long, my eyes seemed more sensitive, and blinking against the gleam, life came into focus, then the moment before the car smashed into the tree made me sit straight up, gasping for air.
Just thinking of it made me tremble in fear, but it wasn’t the dream, not really, it was the insecurities the dream seemed to dust off.
The odds are not in your favor. You will probably never dance again. Certainly not in the way you did before. I’m deeply sorry.
Even though my husband was talking about me actually trying to leave him, my mind went to another place—a place where my gift went to die, like a graveyard in my heart, because it linked to him, a decision he’d made years ago. I just hadn’t realized until then.
“Scarlett,” he growled.
I released my lip, not even realizing I’d been biting down on it. A copper taste touched my tongue. “Yes?” I whispered.
“Look at me.”
I shoved against his chest, my hands so small in comparison, but he refused to move.
“Speak your mind,” he said, lowering his face to mine. His arms were two irons bars on each side of my face.
“You knew,” I snapped, accusation tainting every word. “You knew something like this might happen to me. That’s why you sent me away—sent me to Paris. You never wanted me to regret not dancing in my prime. Fate can’t be changed, and you were worried that I’d resent you. That I’d be forced to live withwhat if. That’s why you refused to allow me to make my own decision on the matter! You were covering your own ass! Instead of being honestwith me. You had choices too!”
“Is that how you see it?” His eyes narrowed. “Covering my own ass?”
“Yes!” I shouted. “I do!”
His fist came back and then struck the house. Not close enough to strike me but close enough that the impact seemed to rattle my head.
“You’re insane!” I shouted. “Insane!”
“Tell me again,” he said, the breath leaving him in hot pants. He bled for every word. “Tell me again how I covered my own ass, Scarlett. Did I let you go? Yeah, I fucking did. Life is nothing if not unpredictable. You think I didn’t know what happened to Maja? After she couldn’t dance—how depressed she became. How she felt a part of her died. She told me about it.”
His other fist pulled back and then impaled the other side of the house. It hadn’t damaged our home but had damaged his hands. The blood…
“I knew there’d come a day when you fell in love with what you could do. Once you were on your own, you’d realize how much you loved it. What a gift you had. When all the players forcing you to do it were removed, you’d find out for yourself who you were and what dancing meant. I saw it on your face—the passion, how deeply you could fall into its spell. But you’re fucking stubborn, and if Pnina tells you the sky is blue, you’ll argue that it’s turquoise. That’s why it was important that I let you go—you had to discover on your own the secrets you kept.”
He stepped back, coming forward with both of his fists. His voice had gone from raw to shredded. His eyes closed and the most painful expression crossed his face, as swift as a fast-moving sword, gone in an instant, but leaving a scar behind.
“I knew. I knew if the day ever came, and you had to let go, you could look back and see that you used your gift. You could look back on your beautiful years and see that instead of me stopping you, I let you go so you could fly. I had to condition myself to let you go, to not interfere. Because I’m a jealous bastard who can’t stand to have you even two steps from me. I did it, though. I went through hell. For the both of us. Mostly, I did it for you. If it were for me, I would have never let you go.”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“It kills me,fucking kills me, that something vital has been stolen from the woman I love more than life itself. I can’t do a fucking thing about it. I sit and watch you get lost in yourself, in grieving for the part of yourself that you feel is dead. I can’t save you from this, like I couldn’t save you when you tried to die on me.”
I looked away, ashamed to meet his eyes. He moved my face towards his, refusing to let me escape.
“No.” He shook his head. “You wanted my words. I gave them to you, every fucking one, coated in blood. So, you’re going to answer me. The truth now, Scarlett. Tell me if you resent me. If you can.”
“No,” I whispered. “No, I don’t.”
“You tried to fucking leave me!Tell me. Tell mewhy.”
He was close to losing control. I had never seen him so completely broken. I refused to answer, and he took me by the shoulders, shaking me some. His eyes were full of pleading, as though he cried for an answer at the top of his lungs.
“Because I can’t DANCE!” I shouted, and a loud sob exploded from my mouth. “You fell in love with me because I could! You saw me in that window and…and you fell in love with me! And now…what? What do you see when you look at me? I’m less, so much less than who I was. Dance defined me. You made sure that it did. Not on purpose. By default. Still, it happened, and I did fall in love. I—I learned to depend on it! Just as much as I—I depend on you!”
Oh God, this was so ugly. That was all that kept going through my mind.Ugly.The fighting, the emotions, the blood, sweat and tears, all merging to create a macabre canvas. Smeared with all the same, the edges coated in our blood.
What the hell was so beautiful about this?
