"Braidy has a past. He wasn't completelyoutuntil me. That's a big thing. Coming out is like going through puberty again. It's an emotional roller coaster. It's not good being the test dummy, but I just have to try because if I don’t, I'll never know if we could have been something. If I chicken out, I'll never know. Heartbreak might be better than regret. That's what I've decided anyway."
I smile against the speaker. "Thank you."
"Don't tell anyone I'm nice, okay? I'm a Mean Girl!"
I swallow. "Max has a lot of secrets, ya know?"
"We all do, Golden Girl."
"I think his might be worse."
He's quiet again. "Let's be honest. Do you actually care?"
"No. I wish I did though."
We share a long, surprisingly genuine and heartfelt discussion, though not without the occasional drips and drabs of satire and innuendos. However, there are secrets I don't share with him. I don't mention Victoria. I don't mention Butch.
After hanging up and wrapping myself in a towel, I ringmy hair out and twist it down my shoulder so that the water drops fall onto the rim of the towel.
Max stays fast asleep as I wander across his bedroom towards the door. I stop to gaze at him in all his glory. Above the covers. Half-naked.
My Max.
I move toward him and lean over, touching my lips softly to his forehead.
As I turn to leave, I notice his bedside table drawer is ajar. I hold my breath when I see the nose of a black gun poking out from within. My eyes widen and my attention is immediately drawn to Max, who hasn't moved a muscle, and then back to the bedside table. I'm still holding my breath as I pull the drawer out a few more centimetres to reveal the entire black pistol.
It's illegal to own a handgun in Australia.
I don’t know what the laws are in Bali.
Looking at it though, I remember what my mum once told me: 'Everyone is made up of little contradictory pieces, and you should never judge another person's decisions because you don't know the pieces they have to choose from.'
A thief is a criminal until he's stealing to feed his kin. A neglectful mother is a bad mother until she is working two jobs to give her children the best opportunities. A gun is terrifying until it's what's keeping you safe, and then you're terrified without it.
Some of us have a lot of contradictory pieces. Some less.
Guns have been banned in Australia since before I was born, so seeing one casually placed beside the bed I sleep in...This just got real.
My heart vibrates as I turn to watch Max sleep again. Idon't know much about his pieces, but I know he has a lot of them. And they all have weight.
Slowly, I push the drawer shut.
After getting dressed, I head out to meet the musicians that will be accompanying me tonight at the show.
For most of the day, I rehearse in the luxury Balinese dining club, which is set up not unlike an intimate restaurant with long, banquet-style tables running parallel to a beautiful lily pond. On the other side of the pond is a stage. The orchestra is on a lower level, but I'm going to move from the stage through the musicians as part of a sequence. I've written choreography myself many times; however, I've never had an intimate audience of fifty, inclusive of Max Butcher, Jimmy Storm, and Legend Luca "The Butcher"Butcher—whatever that means.
And Victoria...
My pulse races through my neck as I practise my steps. This is all just a bit much for me to take on alone. I wish I was dancing to someone else's choreography because then it wouldn’t feel so personal. This mini ballet is about promises. It's about choosing to love unconditionally.
At seven p.m., the club begins to fill with Aurora's and Clay's stunningly dressed families and friends. I can hear shrill feminine laughter and the clinking of glasses from behind the stage. The musicians and I are waiting in a small room. While they warm up out of sequence and independently—violins and flutes whistling different scales—I adjust my white veil and tutu. I'd designed them myself for this occasion. I never—ever—wear my hair down when I dance because the line of my neck needs to be seen in union with the lines of my décolletage and arm. However, tonight my ballet bun is a little loose and romantic. It's a little wild, a little flustered.
As I'm wrapping up my toes, a sudden silence descends. I tense, nerves fluttering in my stomach like they do every time I'm about to perform. Breaking the quiet, Jimmy's voice booms through the microphone.
“Sarò breve, caro e breve! Clay Butcher, ha statu sempri patti ra me famiglia.Tomorrow that becomes legal under God. Thank you all for joining us in this union and enjoy tonight's entertainment."
My hands tremble as I finish lacing up my pointe shoes. The musicians begin to move into position and the conductor nods at me. I'm up and jiggling in place, flicking my hands and stretching my body. I clear my mind as the violins start. Mood lighting illuminates the stage. My breathing is slow and controlled. The guests are silent. Beads of sweat run down my brow and over my chest. I hear my musical cue and I'm quicklyen pointe,moving across the stage like drops of water from a fountain—quick and weightless.
