Unravel

by Renee Fowler

I take the piece from him and arrange it on the bust in the corner to finish later.

  “Show me exactly what happened,” Seth demands.

  “Okay. Uhm, I’ll be Liam, and you be me. Stand over here.” I nudge him over a few feet, and angle him the right way. “Now, pretend to walk away.” I hold him still, walk him back towards the wall, caress the side of his face and neck. “He asked if I thought it was funny.”

  “What?” Seth asks, a bit breathless.

  “I guess what he was doing, in relation to the way you and me joke around? I don’t know. It was confusing.”

  “You wanted him to kiss you. Admit it.”

  I shake my head.

  “Liar.”

  Okay, maybe I had, desperately, but it doesn’t matter. “He apologized after the fact, and said it would never happen again. I think he felt bad? I couldn’t tell.”

  “He probably felt bad because he had blue balls.”

  I shove Seth away, shaking my head.

  Seth scrutinizes my face for a moment. “You still miss John,” he declares.

  “No, I really don’t.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Liam will be gone before long, and I don’t see the point in… I’m not like you, Seth.”

  “You want to be in love.”

  “I don’t want to be in love with him.”

  “Why do you say it like that? Him.” He mocks me with a high pitched whine. “You act like he’s the devil.”

  I shrug and don’t make further comment. The night I got voluntold to dance the end of Manon alongside Liam is not something I’ve ever shared with Seth. “You can’t tell anyone else about what happened yesterday. Promise me, Seth.”

  He holds his hands up. “I won’t.”

  “Swear it,” I say sharply.

  “I swear.” He pulls the hair away from my face and smoothes it over my shoulders. “You know, you are allowed to have sex with someone you’re not in love with. It’s not against the law.”

  “I guess I don’t see the point.”

  “What’s not to see?”

  If it was anyone else but Seth, I could never say this outloud. “I don’t really like sex.”

  He guffaws.

  “I’m serious. For me sex is what you do to get to the other things, you know?”

  He’s looking at me like I have two heads. “No, I don’t know. What other things?”

  I wander over to my dresser, pick up my brush, and begin running it through my hair. “To be close with someone, I guess?”

  Seth scratches between his eyebrows, and stares at me silently.

  “I get stuck in my own head,” I explain, waving my brush in the air. “Like, my mind wanders, or I get anxious and I can’t relax enough to… you know.”

  “To get off? To have an orgasm? You’re an adult, Penny. These are words you know, yes? Why are you this way? What made you so sexually repressed?”

  “Nothing made me this way. I’m just… broken or something. I’m kind of a nervous person in general.” Which is part of the reason I love dance. Not performing so much, but just dancing. It calms and centers me, sort of like moving meditation. “I’ve always been sort of anxious I guess.”

  “But you can get yourself off, like when you masterbate, right?” Seth asks.

  Continuing to brush my hair, I nod slightly, unable to meet his eyes.

  “Then the problem isn’t you. It’s these little dick chumps you take up with, like John.” Shaking his head, he gives a disgusted huff. “He was really okay with you never having an orgasm? Didn’t he know where your clit was?”

  I sigh quietly. “He wasn’t in need of an anatomy lesson, but I usually just faked it to get it over and done with.”

  Seth gives me a wide-eyed, shocked laugh. He crosses his arms and smirk at me. “I’ve got to see this. Show me this fakery you speak of.”

  “No way.”

  “I want to see how believable it is.”

  After a moment to consider, I cross over to my bed and flop back. Trying to quell my laughter, I give Seth a little show that starts with me writhing and whimpering. He clambers on the mattress to grin down at me. My vocalizations increase in pitch and intensity as I twist my fingers in my comforter. Arching my back, I let my eyes drift closed. “Oh. Oh. Oh, my god. Oh, Seth. Seeettthhh,” his name dissolves into a giggle that gets cut short by his lips pressed against mine.

  My eyes pop open and I turn my mouth away from his. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “What do you think? I want to make you moan like that for real. Maybe John can’t, but I can.”

  “But you’re gay.”

  “I’m bi.”

  “You are?”

  “Why do you think I’m always trying to get into your panties?”

  “I-I don’t know. I thought that was a joke.” I shove against his chest, and sit up slowly. “Seth, I let you see my boobs.”

  “And they’re really nice. Thank you.”

  I smack his arm. “I feel... violated. You tricked me.”

  “I didn’t try to. I mean, I was pretty blatant about it.”

  Looking back, I guess he had been. “Sorry, I don’t think about you like that. I think of you as a friend.”

  Seth sighs. “Yeah, I’ve gathered.”

  “Well, then you definitely need to stop with the groping and fondling. You really are a pervert.”

  “I’m just a hands on kind of person.”

  Rolling my eyes at him, I hop up from the bed. I wander over to my closet, and start flicking through the hangers. “No, you are a perverted kind of person, and you need to leave the room so I can get dressed.”

  Seth lets out a tired sigh, then his eyes fall on the dress draped over my arm. “What are you wearing? You need to get ready for rehearsal.”

  “I’m not going today.”

  Seth scoffs. “You’re going to run and hide like a little baby because Liam brushed up against you? That’s sad, Penny.”

  “I’m not hiding from anything, and I already texted him to let him know I won’t be there today.”

  “Why are you wearing a dress? Where are you going?”

  “I’m having lunch with my stepfather.”

  “I thought you hated him.”

  “Hate is probably a strong word,” I say, striving to come off as casual. “In either case, you can’t avoid the things you hate forever, now can you?”

  Foster Abbott is thinner than I remember, shorter somehow too. His hair is lighter, and a touch whispyer. He was much older than my mother. There was nearly a twenty-five year age gap between them, but he was well off, and she was very beautiful, so I suppose that’s the way it goes sometimes. She was twenty one when they were married, and I was six, old enough to understand that Foster wasn’t my real father, and over the years he made that clear enough to me. He gave me his last name, but that was more for appearances sake than anything else I think.

  Seated across from him, I can’t relax. I feel like a tightly coiled spring. Being in the middle of the busy, upscale restaurant isn’t helping either.

  “Have you spoken with Paige recently?” he asks, between bites.

  “Not lately. I’ve been busy.” I shove my untouched food around my plate.

  “She’s taken up with some boy. I guess it’s turning into something since she brought him around to meet me.” Foster lets out a long, drawn out sigh. “She’s never bothered to do that before.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Nervous. That’s the only thing I could tell about him. He was nervous, but polite.”

  I laugh under my breath. If Paige dragged him back to Foster’s sprawling mansion to make introductions, I can imagine why. My stepfather was well off when he married my mother, but he crossed over into the truly wealthy category several years later.

  “He’s going to be some kind of engineer,” Foster continues. “So I suppose he has a head on his shoulders, which is good. Paige needs someone to ground her in reality a bit, you
know?”

  I bob my head in mock agreement. It’s no big secret that he finds Paige’s floundering pursuits in amateur film making and art ludicrous. “Opposites attract sometimes, I guess.”

  “I suppose you’ll both be married off before I know it. Maybe one of these days I’ll get to meet this young man.”

  I stare down to my bare fingers. “Actually I’m not getting married after all.”

  “What happened?” His face is a nearly believable mask of concern.

  “It just wasn’t working out. Things had run their course.”

  “That’s too bad. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Don’t be. We’re both better off.” I’m better off alone, and John is better off with Car-ah. “So how have you been? It feels like forever since we’ve talked.”

  “You’re not exactly an easy person to get in contact with.”

  “I’ve just been swamped, with the theater, and my business. It’s hard to find time.” I can’t believe how subdued my voice is. I guess some of the anger and resentment I’ve hoarded against Foster has faded over time.

  His smile is tight and forced. “So, I suppose you want something, right?”

  Oh, there’s the anger I was waiting for. I want to scowl, and throw my fork down. I want to stomp away. I have never asked Foster for a thing. Never. Yes, he paid an inordinate amount of money to send me to that school, but that was my mother’s wish, not mine. But he’s a practical man, and I guess he’s right. There’s no need to waste both of our time.

  I dig through my tote bag for the folder. I spent half the night and a bit this morning compiling what information I could.

  “What is this?” Foster asks when I hand it across the table.

  “It’s an… investment opportunity,” I explain in a thin, faltering voice.

  Foster quirks an eyebrow up at me as he flicks through the pages of property listings I’ve printed off, along with some crude examples I’ve sketched of what he could have built in its place. It’s pretty far from a proper business proposal, but it’s the best I could come up with on short notice, and with my lackluster knowledge of land development.

  The truth is I don’t exactly understand what Foster does precisely. He buys up charming, quaint, older properties, bulldozes them, and builds something new and more appealing in their place. He oversees gentrification, I suppose.

  “Penelope, it’s wonderful that you’re taking an interest in… this, but it only looks like is an opportunity to throw away a lot of money.”

  I sigh. “Oh.”

  “What is this really about?”

  “It’s hard to draw people into the theater with the neighborhood the way it is. I just thought… I guess I don’t know what I’m thinking.” I’m thinking I’d like to help Andrea, who has always been lovely to me, and I hate the idea of the GCB closing. That place is like my second home, but holding my hand out and asking him for money is never going to happen.

  “It would be easier to relocate than try to rebuild the entire neighborhood, wouldn’t it?” He laughs quietly. “It wouldn’t just be a few blocks to buy up. That whole area is problematic.”

  “Exactly, and you could do something about that. You have the power to fix it. Actually, it would be really good publicity for your business, if you think about it. People would see it as charitable.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it.”

  “It’s just an idea.” I take a sip of water, trying to ignore his eyes on me.

  “That’s all you came here to talk about?”

  I nod quickly.

  “I guess I’d hoped… I loved your mother, Penelope. You know that, right?”

  He’s really going there in the middle of a restaurant? Beneath the table, I twist a linen napkin in my fingers on my lap. “Mmhmm.”

  “I understand if you need someone to blame, but-”

  “I don’t!” I suck in a long, stuttering breath. “I don’t need anything from anyone. I just wanted to let you know about this… business opportunity.” I’m going to cry, or yell, maybe both if I don’t leave right now. Muttering a feeble goodbye, I climb up to my feet unsteadily and flee the restaurant before I can cause a scene.

  Chapter 8

  Liam

  When I spotted Penny meandering around the stage that evening, I knew full well the best course of action was to keep walking.

  I’m starting to think the best course of action is to find someone else to take my place in putting on this production. Andrea doesn’t need me specifically, just my name.

  But I can’t skulk off like a coward. I need to clear the air with Penny. “Careful. I think that paint is still tacky.”

  She freezes at the sound of my voice. “I’m sorry I missed rehearsal.”

  “I should be the one apologizing. I understand after yesterday, you must be uncomfortable-”

  “It’s not that.” Penny says quickly, waving her hand through the air. She stares all around, then lowers her voice. “I went to an informal… business brunch in regards to doing something about this place. Err, about the places around this place, you know to spruce up the neighborhood a bit, but it doesn’t matter. It was probably a waste of time.”

  “I should’ve never told you that, Penny. Your focus should be dance, not the rest.”

  “Well, if this place isn’t here, I won’t have anywhere to dance, so…”

  “Have you thought about auditioning at Joffrey?”

  Penny shakes her head.

  “Why not? I could put a word in for you.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Why?”

  She titters a laugh. “You’re really nosey. Has anyone ever told you that, Mr. Thibault?”

  “Not recently.”

  “I like it here. I like the people, and the atmosphere. I don’t want to leave.”

  Maybe she is a dyed-in-the-wool type afterall? I’m still scratching my head about it. “What about the cubes? Now that you’ve seen them in person, what do you think?”

  “They’re big. They’re bigger than I expected.”

  I nod. On this stage, they look enormous. I probably should have had them constructed to smaller specifications.

  “I still don’t like them,” Penny states plainly. I can’t help but laugh at her candor. “What do they mean? Explain it to me, and maybe I’ll like them more.”

  “Well, what do you think they mean?”

  “I don’t think they mean anything. I think they’re just boxes.”

  I have to remind myself not to stare too intently into the depths of her eyes. “Wait here.”

  The scuff of my shoes across the stage is deafening in the empty theater. I find the huge swath of dark fabric folded in a neat stack just as I left it. Penny watches curiously and silently as I stretch it out lengthwise along the back of the stage. I make a motion by tipping my chin in the direction of the other end, and Penny walks over to pick it up off the floor.

  I’ve explained this maneuver in rehearsal, but she’s never seen it done in person. Also there’s no music to time the movements to, but the two of us manage well enough, weaving around and in between the structures on stage, passing each other several times. After we’ve finished, the fabric is stretched taut and tangled across the floor in a messy spider web.

  “What kind of fabric is this?” Penny asks, only slightly out of breath.

  “It’s an aerial silk.”

  “But it’s not silk.” She rubs it between her palms. “Lycra blend or tricot nylon, right?”

  Smiling, I shrug my shoulder. “I’m not sure. I’ve never had anyone ask that before, and I’ve never thought to check.”

  She lets it flutter to the floor, then crosses her arms over her chest and studies the pattern we’ve created. “So… two people connected by something, like a couple.”

  “It could be.”

  “And they get all… entwined together, the way couples tend to become.”

  I murmur my agreement.

  “You wro
te it for your wife.”

  Laughing, I shake my head quickly. “She’s not my wife, and she hasn’t been for years now. And I didn’t write it for her. But yes, more or less, it’s about that, although it can be about other things too. The hope is people find something personal to take away from it.”

  “Why don’t you just say that then? In interviews, when you’re asked about it, you’re always so vague.”

  “You watched interviews about the show?”

  A hint of a blush lights her face. “Maybe.”

  “Hmmm.” Thinking, I rub my chin. “Partially I just don’t want to give Elise the satisfaction, but I think it’s better to let people draw their own conclusions. They might find something in it they wouldn’t otherwise without those preconceived notions.”

  “So what are the cubes then?”

  “They can be anything. A house. Children. Shared interests and friends. A performing career together. All the things that keep people tied together longer than they should be.”

  “Isn’t that what the ribbon is supposed to represent?”

  I study her profile while she studies the stage scenery. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you?”

  Penny smiles. “Yes.”

  “You’re right. They don’t mean anything, but I had to put something up here.”

  She starts to crack up, and smacks a hands together. “I knew it!”

  “But that stays between us.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me.” Penny’s laugh dies out to a sigh. “Why did you choose black for the fabric?”

  “I wanted it to be neutral. The color of the ribbon shouldn’t matter.”

  She steps back and takes a pointed look all around. “Black, white, grey. There’s no color. It wouldn’t be so bad if we were actually wearing costumes, but this is… ugh.”

  “You think it’s boring.”

  “A little.”

  “What would you suggest instead?”

  “Well… It wouldn’t have to be anything too dramatic. The cubes could be different colors, or… actually no. Since the cubes don’t mean anything, they should be plain, but… Seth and I should have costumes of some sort.”

  Penny prances over the lines of fabric on the floor, and comes to stand behind the largest cube. I follow along at a more leisurely pace, both intrigued and utterly infatuated with this girl.