A grin crept across Lorelei’s face, further defining her lush cheeks. “I have set my sights on someone new.”
I had always been jealous of Lorelei’s energy. She was young, sprite-like. I couldn’t imagine having that lively energy at all times. I supposed that was a given since she was barely nineteen, hardly a woman.
“Oh?” I turned to her in my seat. “Someone mentioned previously or brand-new altogether?”
“The new ballet master.” She shrugged her shoulders in excitement as she clasped her hands.
“I thought you were not going to pursue patrons.”
“I pondered on it, but I am young, and it would be a shame to go to waste. Besides, he isn’t justanypatron. I’ll never be in the corps de ballet again, I will be a star.”
“Lorelei,” I warned, “I told you what happens when you go too deep. You won’t be able to get out.”
“There’s too much interest to ignore!”
“Ignore it anyway!”
“When did you become so stuffy?” she grumbled. “You got to have your fun. Maybe you are jealous that I get to have mine?”
My mouth opened to speak, but none of the words I wanted to use would be kind, so I shut it again.
“That’s what I thought.” She crossed her arms.
That is when I spotted a familiar figure.
In my line of sight, just over Lorelei’s shoulder, was a man. A tall and lanky silhouette that resembled his profession entirely.
The coroner stood at the entrance of the park, framed by the iron gates, just waiting.
I supposed the news of my marriage would make its rounds, but I didn’t think my patrons would hear so soon. I assumed they would at least know when I wasn’t in the next show. I thought I had more time to come up with an explanation.
“I have to get going.” I checked my timepiece. Our debates would have to wait for another day.
Lorelei refused to look at me and remained seated.
My shoulders slouched as I dwelled on saying anything more, but I decided against it, departing silently.
I worried for that girl, more than she would care to hear. I remember being foolish once, though I cannot help but wonder why she would choose a life like that. I certainly didn’t. It was clear that, even when leaving it all behind, the shadows of my past were not done with me yet.
I don’t know why I went. Whether it was morbid curiosity or escaping the stalking of someone worse, I did not know. But I was here now, surrounded by the smell of low-settling smog and fish.
Arkady’s studio was by the shipyard, where soot slept and sunshine went to drown. The building was an imposing brick warehouse with a circular window poised below the gable. A narrow smokestack stood erect at the back of the building, erosion stains discoloring the brick on one side. I half expected bodies to wash up beside me on the dock with how bleak the scenery appeared.
I had to push into the sliding door twice, throwing more weight each time, before the rusted metal finally unstuck. It opened up to statues crowded along the edges of the walls, some with sheets over them and others bare. The second circular window at the back of the warehouse was enough to light the floor.
In the middle of the room was one unfinished statue, and Arkady devoting such focus that he did not hear me come in.
The smell of petrichor tickled my nose upon entry. Did it give him performance anxiety, having an army of stone people watching? I could imagine why he’d become such a shut-in. At least the statues couldn’t heckle.
Even as he swung the mallet into his chisel, it seemed so effortless, so fluid. Every ripple of his forearm as he tapped along the form, little chips of stone clattering into the floor. The particles shimmered as itpuffed into the air. His normally tanned arms now covered in white smears of old clay and dust.
“Is this where you work?” I spoke out. “Quite the audience.”
For a moment, his expression was stern when he looked, only for it to become acerbic when he saw it was me. “Mrs. Kameneva.”
I wanted to say something back, but the way he addressed me caught me off guard.
“I would have dusted off an extra chair for such an esteemed visit.” He leaned back on his stool.
