Unravel

by Renee Fowler

  She blushes furiously and appears mortified. Does she know who I am? I’m beginning to think she must.

  Cara tells me in a low, stuttering voice that they were introduced at a charity event only four months prior. Cara stresses the four months part, and I believe I see a hint of pleading in her eyes. Foster chimes in, adding to the events of the night.

  Paige sighs disgustedly, and I sigh under my breath in relief. Four months ago is far after I walked in on her and John. Not that it wouldn’t serve Foster right after some of the stunts he pulled on my mother, but truly I don’t want to be involved. I don’t even want to be sitting in this room at all.

  I gulp down the last of my wine, promising silently that it will be my last glass, and excuse myself to the restroom. I don’t go straight there, but instead I wander around a bit, feeling a little like an intruder as I peek in on my old room.

  It’s just as I left it, which surprises me. My purple bedspread and bookcases stuffed full. On top of one is some awards I received for dance and academics. Those weren’t on display when I left, but perhaps my mother had them put out. There are recessed shelves along one wall brimming with things I used to obsess over. Crystals and unusual rocks, Star Wars memorabilia, and antique cameras. I’ve never had one iota of interest in photography, but I really liked old cameras for some reason. It was one of those things John found fascinating about me when I first shared that tidbit with him. He’d asked to see my collection a number of times, but I didn’t want to come back to this place to retrieve them.

  My interest in these things has waned, and I wonder why Foster has chosen to keep all this. But I suppose with a house this large he doesn’t need the space. He pays people to clean. Everything is pristine and the carpet has fresh lines from a vacuum.

  I close the door to my room quietly and slip into the nearest bathroom. In the vanity mirror I find my face flush from wine, but pale around the edges, and my eyes are starry. I splash cold water on my cheeks and blot myself dry with a hand towel. It doesn’t help much.

  More than anything, I want to leave this place. I want to go back home with Liam, strip away all his outer layers, and have him strip away mine. I’m not aroused in the slightest, but what I’m craving right now is the weight of his body pressing down on me, anchoring and reassuring. I want to get lost in the green and brown and gold of his eyes while he chants close to my mouth, Oh, Penny. Oh, darling. Penny. Penny. Penny.

  But first I have to survive dinner. It won’t last forever, and I will survive it, I remind myself. I only need to smile and make polite conversation. It’s hardly any real ordeal.

  When I exit the bathroom, I nearly crash into Cara. “Sorry,” I murmur, side-stepping to get out of her way.

  She steps to the side right with me. “Penelope, can we talk?”

  “Penny. Please call me Penny.”

  “Okay.” Cara stares at me for a long moment, her green eyes lined in heavy makeup grow pink and watery. “Penny, I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry. I… didn’t really put two and two together. Foster showed me some pictures of you when you were younger, but it didn’t look like you, and… Oh, gosh. This is something isn’t it?” She giggles breathlessly. “I’m really sorry. I really am.”

  I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be feeling at this moment. Anger I suppose? Righteous indignation? At the very least mild annoyance to be cornered by her. Oddly I don’t feel much of anything except sorry for Cara, who is choosing to endure Foster for some reason. I honestly can’t fathom it. “It’s okay.”

  “John said you were over, or almost over. I hope you don’t think I’m like that usually. And I… I guess I’m asking that we can keep it between us, if that’s possible.”

  I shrug. “Fine by me.”

  “Thank you. Thank you, Penny. I hope this doesn’t… Well, if things work out for Foster and me, I’d hate for all that nasty business to spoil things for us. Family is so important to me.”

  I bark out a loud, obnoxious laugh. Does she think Foster is going to marry her? Is she possibly that naive?

  I won’t tell Foster about her previous misdeeds, just like I won’t mention the fact that he has a bad habit of taking up with young, pretty girls just like her, and casting them aside when he grows bored with them. If they’ve already been together four months, I anticipate her days with Foster are already numbered.

  “Your secret is safe with me, Cara.”

  Cara smiles. “I love those shoes. Where did you get them?”

  I don’t harbor any ill feelings towards her now. Finding out the truth about John ended up being the best thing for me, but it doesn’t mean I want to be pals with her either. “Look, I’m not the one you need to win over. Foster isn’t really my father, and I almost never see him, which means the two of us will almost never see each other. Paige on the other hand...” I give her a wan smile and a dismissive pat on the shoulder.

  Cara grimaces and nods. She moves aside so I can shuffle past her.

  Over dinner Foster criticizes me for my intense need not to have my food touch, even food I’m not actually eating. Paige chooses that moment to go on a tirade about his want to nitpick both of us, then she drops the bombshell that she’s having a baby. Foster takes the news better than I anticipated, although I suspect he may drink himself into a stupor after we’re all gone.

  “Well, that was a thanksgiving to remember,” Liam says as soon as we’re alone in the car.

  “It’s not really a get together if Paige doesn’t cause a scene.”

  “You two may look alike, but you’re as different as day and night.”

  I murmur my agreement. “Liam, can you keep a secret.”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you?”

  He laughs. “Yes, you know I will.”

  “I didn’t know Cara because I’m familiar with her work as a lingerie model. I know her because she’s who John cheated on me with.”

  The interior of the car goes deathly silent.

  “Isn’t that a coincidence?” I ask.

  Liam laughs uproariously. After a few long moments, he regains his composure. “Penny, you have quite the poker face, that’s all I can say.”

  Chapter 23

  Liam

  The very last performance of Unravel goes off without a hitch. Not just the last at the GCB. The last ever. There are only so many times I can watch this part of my past played out. It’s run its course, and I’m more than ready to move forward.

  As soon as Penny comes off the stage, her face crumples. She lets out a gentle sob and sags against Seth. The two of us manage to get her sat down. Several of the other dancers stand nearby, watching with worried expressions.

  “It’s my ankle. Right above my heel,” Penny whispers through gritted teeth. “It happened halfway through the last act. It felt like a snap, or…” her words dissolve into silent tears.

  I gingerly probe the delicate taper of her lower leg, and find the skin swollen and hot. Seth helps me get her in my car. As soon as we are alone together, she lets loose a mournful wail. “If I can’t dance anymore, what am I going to do?”

  “Let’s just get you looked at, and see what they say first, Penny.” I can’t believe how calm I sound. I reach behind me with one hand, to where Penny is laid up in the back seat of my car. She grips my fingers tight. “It’s going to be okay. Whatever happens, you’re going to be fine.”

  The only response I get is a choking sound and a sniffle.

  My heart is breaking for her. Even if Penny doesn’t relish the spotlight, she loves to dance. Perhaps too much at times. I’ve warned her she pushes too hard, but it’s not a warning she cared to hear or ever heeded.

  I end up carrying Penny into the emergency room, her still crying, but silently now under the glare of fluorescent lights and the gazes of the handful of others occupying the waiting area. If we were in New York, I know people to call on in these types of situations, but here I don’t have that luxury.

  Shivering, she pulls
her coat around her torso. If I wasn’t afraid of jostling her rapidly swelling and darkening ankle, I’d pull her onto my lap. Instead I wrap my arm around her shoulders and she buries her head against my chest.

  The waiting feels like forever, but actually Penny isn’t made to sit for too long before being wheeled back for an x-ray. The technician cracks a rather feeble joke that he can guess how she ended up there in the first place, being that she’s still in her leotard and a pair of soft-sole dance slippers. Penny affords him a weak smile, clearly not finding the humor. When he asks if she could be pregnant, she shakes her head quickly, then tilts her head in my direction. “When was my last period?” she whispers.

  I shrug. It’s not something I keep track of, but it does seem like it’s been a long time perhaps. My heart is suddenly beating a little faster.

  “We can order a test if you like, but we’ll still go ahead and do the x-ray. You’ll just have to wear this handy lead apron just in case.”

  Penny nods weakly, looking a touch more terrified than before.

  After her x-ray, and a blood draw, I step back in the room, and sit beside her. Neither of us speak for a long time. I take her nearest hand and press it between my palms lightly. “It wouldn’t be the end of the world if you were, would it?”

  “The end of the world. No. The end of my career probably.”

  “I didn’t think you liked performing.”

  “I don’t. Sometimes…. I don’t know, Liam. I don’t know how to describe it.” Penny tucks her chin up against her chest. “I can’t talk about this right now, Liam. I don’t want to talk right now.”

  We sit and wait in silence for a long time.

  When the attending physician returns, we learn Penny suffered an achilles tendon rupture. I am positively shocked she was able to finish that performance without missing a step or letting the excruciating pain she must’ve endured show on the outside. Squeezing her hand, I lean over to kiss the top of her head.

  Penny is fitted with a boot to keep the joint immobile, and referred on to an orthopedic specialist, but the doctor hints she may need surgery.

  It’s a common enough injury for dancers, so we’re both familiar with what may or may not follow. Even if surgery isn’t needed, Penny will be out of commission for a while. She’ll require physical therapy and lots of time to recuperate.

  “Oh, and that pregnancy test came back negative.” The doctor gives her unaffected ankle a gentle pat. “So we’ll go ahead and get you set up with something for the pain.”

  As soon as we’re alone again, Penny says, “Hmmm.”

  “What does that Hmmm mean?” I ask.

  “It means… I’m disappointed and relieved at the same time, which doesn’t make sense, does it?”

  “It makes sense.” I rest my lips against her temple. I’m feeling a bit disappointed myself, although relieved that Penny won’t have one more thing to deal with at a time like this.

  “Oh, god. What if this is it for me?” Her voice is a pained whisper. “What if tonight was the end?”

  “It’s not the end, Penny. I’ve seen people come back from injuries like this.”

  “If I’m not a dancer, what am I?” she continues as if I haven’t spoke at all.

  “You’re beautiful, and extraordinary, and no matter what happens, you’re going to be fine.”

  Staring off vacantly at nothing, Penny nods.

  I take Penny to my place, although I know she’d rather be surrounded by the comforts of her familiar home, but I fear navigating that narrow stairwell with her would prove impossible. She initially refuses the tablet of pain medication, although it’s fairly obvious she could use it. “I hate taking this."

  “Why?”

  “My mother… she liked this sort of thing more than… She killed herself, not intentionally, I don’t think. It was just a bad combination of alcohol and other things. She was so miserable, you know?”

  “Oh, Penny. Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

  “Is it the kind of thing you’re supposed to tell people?”

  “I’m not just people though, am I?”

  Penny eventually agrees to half of one pill. After I get her foot propped up just so, she begs me to hold her. I am terrified of hurting her further, because she seems incredibly fragile at the moment, shaking and crying. I’ve never seen her this distraught.

  I know better than anyone that there are no words I can offer that will give her real consolation. A dancer dies twice, as the saying goes, and for all either of us knows, she may be staring down the face of that first death at this very moment. All I can do is hold her, and stroke her hair the way she enjoys, and tell her it’s going to be okay.

  The question she asked earlier is ringing through my ears like an echo from my past. If I’m not a dancer, what am I?

  I’ve been wandering around, searching out the answer to that question myself for a couple of years now. Only recently do I think I’ve solved a huge chunk of that puzzle. I’m the man who loves Penny Abbott.

  In that days that follow we learn that Penny will require surgery, although it’s a fairly routine procedure. She hasn’t been tearful past that first night, but she is quieter than usual.

  There will be no Nutcracker for Penny this year. The New Year's gala is out of the question as well, but she comes through the surgery well, and her doctor is confident she’ll be fully recovered by february or soon thereafter.

  Seth helps me move some of her things to my place, her sewing equipment, clothes, and a few other trivial items. I divide my time between caring for Penny, and the theater, but she is up and hobbling around on crutches within a few days of the operation, not needing or wanting too much care from me.

  There are a handful of people that come and go with some frequency, Paige, Carrie and Seth. A few others from the theater as well. Foster starts stopping by fairly regularly, and some of the chill Penny had towards him seems to thaw.

  Three weeks after her procedure, Penny welcomes Damien, who she used to dance with prior to Seth. When I return home, his green eyes grow enormous as they fall on me.

  When I thrust out my hand and introduce myself, it’s obvious he already knows who I am.

  “Jesus… Penny, didn’t tell me.” He gives a disbelieving laugh. “Penny, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Does it matter?” Penny asks with a confused grin.

  It hits me in that instant, I’m going to ask Penny to marry me. Not right now obviously, but eventually. I love her so completely, and I know she loves me, even though she often shows it in strange ways at times.

  I’ve lost count of the women who’ve tried to latch on to me because of who I used to be, or what I may be able to do for them in the present. Having money, not that I am flashy about it, only compounds the problem.

  Penny’s affections aren’t based on that. Sometimes I don’t understand her completely, but I trust her intentions. I love how she is content to lay in bed and talk for hours. I adore the way she finds beauty in small things that most overlook. I am in awe of her the day she tells Carrie, without an ounce of sadness or regret, that she’s not coming back to the theater unless it is to dance some minor background role.

  I’ve sat with her through those doctors appointments. She is expected to make a full recovery, but Penny has decided to say goodbye, just like that.

  “Won’t you miss it?” I ask later that night, tracing the line of her shoulder with my thumb.

  “Andrea said I could still come use the studio if I want in the mornings.”

  I can barely hold back a laugh. After the obscene amount of money Foster donated on Penny’s behalf, I doubt there’s much Andrea wouldn’t agree to. “Once your ankle is better, you’ll have to be careful and go a bit slower, Penny.”

  She sighs. “I know.”

  “I need to start looking for a more permanent home. Something with a nice, big extra room. I’ll have a barre and mirrors installed, and you can dance whenever you want. You’ll dance for me, wo
n’t you Penny?”

  “Are you really staying?”

  “I told you I was. When I say things I mean them.”

  “Thank you, Liam.”

  “For what?”

  “For taking care of me, and for… lots of things. For everything.”

  “If you’d like to repay me, you can come along for a visit to see Cate around Christmas.”

  Penny is sans stabilizing boot when we arrive in New York, but her ankle is still a bit iffy at times.

  “It feels strange being here again,” she says as we ride from the airport to my home.

  “Strange in a good way or a bad way?”

  She laughs. “Hmmm. I’m not sure. Neither? Both?”

  “It feels a bit strange for me too. I haven’t been here for months.”

  When we arrive at my brownstone, Penny proclaims it is spooky, drafty, and the ceilings are too high.

  I leave our things in a heap at the bottom of the steps and wrap my arms around her waist. “It’s a good thing I’m getting rid of it then.”

  “Are you really?”

  “Mmhmm. I haven’t stepped foot inside this place for almost a year. The only reason everything isn’t covered in dust is I pay someone to come around every so often.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “What does that Hmmm mean, Penny Abbott?”

  “It means I hope you like living in Chicago.”

  I kiss her forehead. “I anticipate loving it there very much.”

  Part of me understands that dropping everything, moving to a new city for a woman I’ve been dating for three months is foolhardy and fast, but it’s not as if I’m really dropping anything. I’ve floated aimlessly for three years. Penny is the first thing in all that time that made me want to stay put.

  We eat, and I build a fire. Penny takes a few sips of wine, just enough to stain her lips burgundy. She tells me a bit about the time she lived in the city, the two different ballet companies she danced for, the squalid, little apartment she shared with another dancer. I tell her about Cate and Richard, their children, making sure to give her a heads up about Bobby, who is a sweet boy but prone to loud outbursts at times due to his autism.