by Suzi Davis
“What’s wrong?” Sebastian asked, a touch of concern to his lilting voice.
“Nothing,” I answered, suppressing a sigh.
“You’re really not as good a liar as you seem to think you are.”
“Who says I’m lying?” Sebastian silently arched a brow at me. I hesitated, debating on whether to speak truthfully or not. “My parents will be back soon. And Clarke’s making his way over here now. I’ll have to go speak with his parents and then he’ll expect me to dance with him for the rest of the evening. And… I just wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye,” I admitted.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Gracelynn,” he argued, solemnly.
“I do.” Even I could hear the sadness in my voice.
“Grace,” Clarke greeted me as he approached. “I trust you’re feeling better? My parents are waiting to see you. My father wants to apologize for the seating mix up, especially after seeing what company you were forced to keep over dinner,” Clarke added rudely. He made no attempt to lower his voice in front of either Sebastian or the Jensons. Sebastian was watching him, a blank, unreadable expression on his face. Mr. Jenson was red-faced and glaring, Mrs. Jenson was staring down at her hands, looking ashamed. It was too much.
“No,” I whispered. Sebastian’s eyes moved to my face as I spoke.
“Come on, Grace. Let’s not keep my father waiting,” Clarke continued. He either hadn’t heard me or was choosing to ignore me. He tugged impatiently at my hand. I pulled away.
“No,” I repeated in a slightly stronger voice. “I’m happy here.” The words rang true as I said them. I felt empowered by my pronouncement, bold. It was a rush.
“Grace, what’s wrong with you?” Clarke hissed, his eyes darting around nervously, ensuring no one would overhear us. The small orchestra was starting to play, the flowing classical waltz disguising our conflict. “Come with me, now,” he insisted. He reached out and grabbed my wrist, squeezing it harder this time as he attempted to pull me up from my seat.
I hadn’t noticed Sebastian get up, but suddenly he was standing right there beside me. He pushed Clarke’s hand from my wrist, easily breaking his strong grip. Angry red finger marks were left against my pale skin.
“She’s made her decision,” Sebastian told him firmly. His voice no longer sounded inviting; his tone was dark, his voice flat. His eyes seemed to have darkened and hardened as he stared unwaveringly at Clarke. Clarke hesitated a moment before responding, obviously unsure of how to react. He wasn’t often challenged.
“You’re going to regret this,” Clarke warned. His eyes shifted back and forth between Sebastian and myself, making it unclear to which of us he spoke. Perhaps he meant his threat for us both. Another mask had fallen tonight; Clarke’s handsome face was twisted into an ugly sneer, his eyes beady and glaring. It lasted only a moment. He quickly regained control of himself, clearing his expression to neutral passivity as he spun on his heel and strode back towards his own table. My hands began to tremble as I watched him walk away. What had I done?
“Your parents are back,” Sebastian told me quietly. He watched me with uncertainty.
I turned to look towards one of the arched entranceways into the banquet room. My parents had indeed returned, my mother sporting a beautiful red gown, appearing flawless and happy once more. They were slowly making their way towards us. My hands shook even harder and my mouth went dry as I realized they would soon discover how I’d snubbed the Simons.
“I can’t…” My voice trailed off weakly. Sebastian quickly put one of his smooth, warm hands over mine, stilling my trembling.
“It will be okay,” he told me reassuringly, staring deeply into my eyes. He rubbed my hand gently, comfortingly. A small thrill ran through me that had nothing to do with my anxiety. “Don,” he turned to Mr. Jenson as he spoke, “Grace needs a little more time before facing her parents again. Would you distract them for us?” Both of the Jensons rose as Sebastian spoke.
“You know we will,” Mrs. Jenson replied quietly, she sounded tired. Mr. Jenson nodded his agreement but hesitated, looking like he was debating whether or not to speak. His eyes moved to Sebastian’s hand on mine and he frowned.
“Sebastian, you don’t know what you’re doing. Be careful,” he warned. He looked worried as he took his wife’s hand and weaved with her through the tables, on course to intercept my parents’ path towards us.
“What –” I began to ask.
“Come, dance with me,” Sebastian interrupted. His hand tightened around mind as he gently pulled me up.
“You want to dance? Now?”
“Yes. And I always get what I want so don’t waste your breath arguing with me,” he told me with a smile. I allowed him to guide me around our table to the dance floor, aware of the many eyes that were upon us. I hoped Clarke wasn’t looking; he’d be even more furious with me. I didn’t look in his direction though – I couldn’t. I found myself unable to look away from Sebastian. My heart pounded hard in my throat. And then before I could think of what I was doing, before I could question what I was feeling, Sebastian spun me into his arms and out amongst the swirling, dancing pairs, his movements steady and sure and in perfect time with the waltz’s rising tempo.
I fell into the smooth, bobbing rhythm of the waltz effortlessly, automatically. My mother had insisted I take ballroom dancing lessons from a very early age onwards and though I had always hated classical dancing, I loved the concept. The idea of expressing oneself through movement and dance had always appealed to me but ballroom dancing itself felt so repressive, so structured and rigid. It was yet another form of control, another expectation that I always felt like I was failing to meet. I was a good dancer, I knew I was talented, yet I still secretly despised it. Of course I would never admit so to my parents; they’d never understand.
As I moved across the dance floor with Sebastian I gave in to my training and instincts, letting Sebastian lead. He surprised me by leading well; he danced confidently, his rhythm perfect, his steps smooth and sure, his control impeccable. His eyes were fixed on my face as we danced, a curious, speculative look in his eye. I stared back at him, examining his long, dark lashes, his smiling lips, his soft and mussed black-blue hair. I was struck again by the realization of how truly attractive he was. It was hard for me to think of him that way though, he so obviously wasn’t my type.
“You’re a very good dancer,” he complimented me.
“Thank you,” I replied automatically. Truthfully, I wasn’t flattered. I’d heard it many times before. The compliment was so generic, it was almost a disappointment to hear it from him. He arched an eyebrow at me, seeming to guess my thoughts.
“You’re unhappy,” he stated.
“Yes,” I agreed as we bobbed and span in time with the music, our feet gliding across the floor. “I’ll have to face my parents in a moment. And dancing… dancing isn’t the best distraction, for me.” He nodded thoughtfully. His face suddenly brightened.
“Let’s make things more interesting then,” he suggested, a playful, dimpled smile lighting up his face. “See if you can keep up.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he suddenly changed his rhythm, his movements hitting the wrong beats for a waltz. I followed his lead, adjusting my steps to fall in time with his. I gave him a puzzled frown. He laughed softly as he spun me out into the center of the dance floor, out of formation with the other dancers.
I had no time to ask what he was doing, I had no spare thoughts to wonder or worry or question. All of my energy was suddenly focused on trying to follow his lead, to keep up.
We spun and twisted and weaved about the dance floor. Our steps became quicker, our footwork more intricate. Our bodies moved closer together as the formal structure of the waltz fell apart. I felt completely exhilarated, a wide smile spreading across my face. This was what dancing should be – this was what I’d always felt was missing. Dancing with Sebastian went against all the rules; it was challenging, it was intricate, i
t was expressive and passionate – it was almost over, I realized as I was hit by a wave of disappointment. The music was slowing, reality was creeping back. He slowed our pace, twirling me back towards the edge of the floor. I smiled up at him, still clutched tightly in his steady arms.
“Thank you,” I told him breathlessly. I meant this ‘thank you’ with every fibre of my being. He beamed back at me; I could tell he was happy for no other reason than for making me happy. The music stopped and we stepped apart. My heart gave a painful throb. Polite applause erupted around us. It was then that I realized the other couples had made way for our unique and intricate “waltz”, stepping back from the dance floor in order to give us more room. How many people had been watching? I heard many appreciative murmurs over our skillful and creative dance. I was starting to feel panicky again; had my parents seen me dancing with Sebastian? Had Clarke? Sebastian appeared completely unruffled by the sudden attention we were receiving. He coolly and calmly ignored everyone but me.
“I have to go,” he suddenly announced.
“Don’t leave... I...” I struggled to find the words, unsure what I wanted myself.
“I’ve stayed too long already. But if you wanted, you could see me tomorrow.”
Tomorrow was Saturday. I had tanning and hair appointments in the morning and then I was supposed to watch Clarke’s rugby game in the afternoon.
“When?” I asked without thinking any further.
“Meet me at the inner harbor at 10 a.m. I’ll find you there,” he promised.
I nodded, barely realizing what I was agreeing to. I already had plans for tomorrow, plans I couldn’t just drop without any notice. And besides, I shouldn’t be spending any more time with Sebastian. I should give up this ridiculous little charade.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I whispered, defying my own thoughts. He grinned, touching my cheek affectionately before he spun away from me, quickly disappearing into the crowd.
I looked around, feeling slightly dazed. My parents were crossing the room towards me, the Jensons having disappeared. I noticed the Simons, also a short distance away, involved in a conversation with the Mayor and his wife. Clarke stood slightly apart from his parents, silent and sullen, glaring off into space. I knew I would have to face them all in a matter of moments but I realized I was no longer worried about it – I was no longer worried about anything.
In that one brief, strange dance with Sebastian something had changed; I had rediscovered something that had been buried deep down within myself. I felt like I was slowly awakening from a dream, emerging into reality for the first time in years. And suddenly, nothing seemed so important anymore. All of the things that I had thought mattered so much, suddenly didn’t. I had rediscovered the joy of my own happiness, the freedom of letting go, of abandoning ‘the rules’. A frightening new passion was building inside me and though I was scared and wary, I was powerless to go back to the way I had been.
I turned to face my parents, to face the world, with fresh enthusiastic eyes that finally saw the truth.
Chapter Five - Reality
Some changes occur suddenly like a brilliant flash of lightning striking across a dark sky. These changes are stunning, exciting but can be quickly forgotten. Other changes happen slowly, gradually, like a flower blooming in early spring, each day unfurling its petals another fraction of an inch towards the warm, nurturing sun. These changes are as inevitable as nature running its course; they’re meant to be. Sebastian had planted the seed in my mind and in my soul, and tonight it had started to grow, to put down roots. Outwardly I was the same, no one else knew me as any different. But I felt different. I felt alive.
I no longer feared facing the Simons and my parents after Sebastian’s departure but I still didn’t want to cause any unnecessary problems. It was a relief to learn that my parents hadn’t witnessed my dance with Sebastian. And they thought nothing out-of-the-ordinary when several guests complimented them on my dancing; they knew I danced a nearly perfect waltz. I meekly followed them over to the Simons’ table where I apologized for not coming to speak with them sooner, excusing myself due to feeling out-of-sorts. I didn’t do this to please my parents or because I knew it would somewhat mollify Clarke – I did it to avoid any more trouble. I knew that my life was soon to become much more complicated but tonight, I was determined to end things smoothly. I would pretend one last time for no one but myself and say goodbye to the girl I now realized I had only ever pretended to be.
It was for the same reason that I agreed to dance with Clarke when he asked me – to part on good terms. Perhaps I was still trying to please others, but at least now I knew I was starting to please myself. I was ready to take a chance and to try to discover my own definition of happiness. This was my new beginning.
“You didn’t have to dance with me, you know,” Clarke sulked as we waltzed across the floor. It was almost as if he had been reading my thoughts, but I knew he wasn’t that perceptive.
“I know,” I answered, and I meant it. There was a new confidence, a firmness to the way I spoke. I no longer worried about offending him. “I wanted to dance with you.”
“You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself. Not like you were when you danced with him,” he accused. Ah, I thought, the real source of his pouting.
“You don’t need to worry about Sebastian Caldwood.”
“I’m not.” He looked angry, refusing to meet my eye.
“I meant that it doesn’t concern you,” I restated.
“You’re my girlfriend; you’re my business.” I realized now wasn’t the time or place to correct him but I would have to soon.
“He’s my friend – I can be friends with whomever I choose. I don’t need your permission.” There was an edge to my voice that I’d never quite managed before. It didn’t seem to intimidate him though, I only seemed to be aggravating him – exactly what I’d meant to avoid.
“We’ll see,” he promised darkly.
It was past eleven when my parents were ready to leave the Gala. It then took nearly another hour for them to ensure that they had said farewell to all the right people before we left. I politely shook hands with the Simons’ before leaving, graciously telling Clarke he needn’t escort me out to the car and miss the end of the Gala. He easily agreed; I knew he was still annoyed with me but I didn’t care. It was liberating to no longer be ruled by his expectations.
My father was silent on the way home, listening to my mother’s boastful chatter with obvious distraction. He kept glancing down at his phone while he was driving as if expecting or at least hoping it might ring. My mother had had more to drink than usual, a flush to her taut cheeks. She gushed on about all the people she had so obviously impressed this evening; the Simons, the Mayor, some sitcom actor who had also been present. She was so proud the event had been a success – not because of the amount of funds raised for ‘the children’ but because of the prestige it lent her. She even acknowledged that she’d received several compliments about her attractive daughter who was ‘such a skilled dancer’. She almost sounded proud. Normally, I would have glowed with pride that I had pleased her. As it was, I only felt a vague sense of pity that she cared so much about what others thought. I knew with a kind of hopeless certainty that it was too late for my mother to ever change. There was hope for me though and I knew it was time that I focused on myself.
When we arrived home, I quickly kissed each of my parents on the cheek before going upstairs to bed. It was a farewell kiss, not only because I most likely wouldn’t see either of them again until Sunday evening but also because the daughter they thought they knew wasn’t just leaving but had, in fact, already gone.
The next morning I awoke feeling vibrant and refreshed. It was the first night in weeks that I hadn’t had any nightmares. The clear skies outside my window added to my optimism and good mood. It was cold and overcast but there was surprisingly no rain. It would be a good day to walk about outside at the inner harbor. I idly wondered what Sebastian
had planned for today. I felt a small thrill of excitement as I contemplated the possibilities.
I dressed simply and quickly, remembering Sebastian’s comment from the night before that he thought my beauty “outshines all else”. I pulled on a pair of comfortable, dark wash jeans and a long-sleeve, cotton shirt under a thick hoodie all bearing design house logos. I quickly brushed my hair, pulling it up into a ponytail. I briefly considered not wearing any makeup at all but ended up settling on a quick sweep of eye shadow, a coat of mascara and some clear lip gloss.
I critically examined my reflection in the mirror before I left my room. I looked different than I was used to but I had to admit, there was something compelling about my lack of adornment. It really did allow my natural beauty to shine through, not that it really mattered. There was no one I needed to impress today. I felt surprisingly comfortable going out this way. There was no mask of makeup, no fancy, costumed clothes – it was just me and for once, I felt like that was enough.
I grabbed a canvas messenger bag that I had and stuffed my wallet, cell phone and car keys inside. I slung the strap across my chest before twirling out my room. I was feeling in exceedingly high spirits as I glided down the hallway to the top of the wide, curved staircase. My good mood came crashing down though when I saw who stood on the stairs.
Walter looked up at me with his resentful, beady eyes. I was surprised to see him. He hardly ever came up onto the third floor which only contained mine and my parents’ rooms. I had a strong suspicion that he had been about to ‘check up’ on me.
