“LikePoltergeist. That was a scary-ass movie.”
“Yes, a little bit like that.”
“What’s so funny?” It sounded like you were laughing at me.
“How many of our conversations relate back to American films?”
I smiled. That was true. There seemed to be a movie for every mood, and we both liked to watch them. Often after a hard day with Madame, I’d pop a video into our VCR at home and you’d watch a movie with me. You talked a lot about how unrealistic they were, especially the stunts. DuringTerminator 2, you kept telling me how the humans wouldn’t have survived the car chases or the gun fights, reminding me that guns were weapons and not toys, as if I were going to become a gunslinger myself. I said survival was entirely possible with someone like the Terminator protecting you. I mean, look at us, I’d said. You wereobviouslyArnold Schwarzenegger’s character, and I was a sexier, biracial Jon Connor. Then you asked me if Schwarzenegger was the body type I preferred, and I said anyone would do, so long as it was you in a man’s body. You got quiet after that. Sometimes I learned more from your silences than your words.
Later that night I jerked off to an image of Arnold Schwarzenegger for the first time. Were you there watching, Henri?
“So, how do you do it?” I asked. “How do you carry the souls?”
“I seduce them,” you said like it was obvious.
“How do you seduce a soul?”
I thought you’d change the subject or tell me you couldn’t reveal that to me, a common response to my never-ending questions. But this time, you told me to dim the lights, lie down, and close my eyes. When I did, a sense of calm came over me. You were influencing me, like how you’d sometimes help me fall asleep at night or slow my heart rate when I was anxious. I’d been having fewer nightmares lately. Was that you, too?
You told me to imagine a stage—the gleaming hardwood floors beneath my feet, recently polished, the warmth of the lights on my skin, so bright they were almost blinding. The thick, burgundy curtains were still closed, separating me from the audience. The production wasApollo, and the lead role was mine. You must have remembered me bringing up that ballet as one of my top ten roles for men.
“That’s a high-stakes performance,” I said, interrupting your story.
“Would you prefer a production with a corps?” you teased.
I grinned. “No. And I want both of Balanchine’s variations included.”
“But of course.”
You described my costume, white pants with a gauzy white sash, similar to the togas of ancient Rome. My muscles were stretched, and the choreography practiced until I could dance it in my sleep. My body was strong and healthy and ready to perform. But before the curtains could open and the show could begin, I had to emerge from the wings and cross the floor to take my position center stage.
“To perform this ballet, you must leave your body behind, Orlando. Your body must stay in the wings, but your soul will dance for an eternity. You’ll feel no pain, only goodness and light and pure joy. Like the way you feel at the height of a leap.” I imagined it vividly. Your trancelike voice was hypnotizing me. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” I didn’t even hesitate.
“Will you come with me?”
“Yes.”
A ball of energy surrounded me like falling asleep on the beach on a warm summer day. My muscles didn’t ache, my feet didn’t hurt, and my mind didn’t question. I stood without thinking and crossed the studio floor, with my eyes still closed, blindly following you. I trusted you to deliver me safely to the other side.
“Orlando,” you said abruptly and broke the spell.
I blinked and opened my eyes, disoriented for a moment. The cool air conditioning of the studio rushed in, chilling my bones and stiffening my aching muscles. My feet still hurt.
“That’s how you do it?” I was stunned by the power you’d held over me. I would have followed you over the edge of a cliff. “But what if they’re not a dancer?”
“It’s different for everyone.”
“What do you say for people you don’t know as well?”
“I often use a calm sea that people can slowly wade into. Or a lake they can walk across. The humans around here seem to like water features. Some wish to be reunited with a loved one and others just want to escape their current circumstance. Oftentimes all I need to promise is an end to their sorrow and confusion.”
So, this was your power. Your ability to lead people astray.
“You make these promises, but do they actually come true, or are you just lying to get them to follow you?”
The air around me shifted, and I felt your irritation. Cold and distant. You were pulling away.
