by M.L. Cameron
obnoxious. “You should probably answer that,” Anastasia said.
“Just because I should doesn’t mean that I want to. I’ll be right back,” I said, going back to the foyer and opening my phone. “What do you want Scar?”
“Nice. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to Anastasia’s today?” she asked. “You know how badly I want to meet her, please!?” she begged.
I held the phone away from my ear as she complained and pleaded. “She’s been through enough Scarlett, she really doesn’t need any more trauma. And yes Scar, I did just call you trauma.”
“Please! Will you ask her?”
“No, not today, or the day after that, or the day after that. Never. She doesn’t need you asking a million questions.”
She groaned. “Just go to your lesson, I’ll see you later… when I get home. Okay?”
“Fine.”
I hung up and went back to the dining room. Anastasia was still sitting at the table, moving the fruit in the bowl. I smiled a little. “I’m going to go change and then can we start the lesson?” she asked and I nodded.
Then I remembered, she could not see me nod… “Yeah, we can.”
She stood up and wandered to the hall. She walked out of the room and traced her way down the hallway. I didn’t ask if she wanted help, that would have sounded weird and if she wanted help she would ask. I took a deep breath and picked up the fruit bowl and untouched brownie. I walked them to the kitchen and noticed the slippers lying on the counter.
I picked them up and walked back to the studio. One of the doors that hadn’t been closed before was shut. Obviously it was her room. I would have put money on the fact that all her rooms were on the first floor so that she wouldn’t have to ever use the stairs.
The dance studio was empty and cold. A duffel bag sat in the corner of the room. I opened it and set the ballet slippers inside. I paused as I saw my reflection. I wondered how Anastasia felt, not being able to see her own reflection. She wouldn’t ever be able to see again… I wondered if she ever felt the pain in her head like some people did after a severe injury.
I blinked and continued to stare at my reflection. I took a deep breath and went back to the dining room. Anastasia had changed into jeans and a t-shirt. Her long blonde hair was pulled up into a ballerina bun and her bangs fell in her face. She sat completely still, waiting.
My backpack sat in the foyer so I turned to get it. I sat beside her and pulled out a textbook and binder. “So how is this going to work?” she asked.
“Well, your father says you refuse to learn how to read brail…” I started. “You know it could really help, make your life a lot easier.”
“Until my father loses every dime he has, which I don’t predict happening in the next hundred years, I will stick to my private tutors. Now could we please just start the lesson?”
I raised my eyebrows and shook my head. I wondered which was the real her, the screw-you girl or the proper, completely polite girl. “All right, I’ll read the passage and then write down your answers to the questions.”
She nodded.
We worked for a couple of hours. We got through a couple days worth of English, more than what had to be done. My phone rang again. I knew Scarlett’s lesson was far from over so I checked… and then wondered how she was calling me. “Maybe you should answer that,” Anastasia observed in the middle of a passage.
“Yeah. I still don’t want to.”
The phone rang again. I sighed and stood up. “I’ll be right back.”
She yawned and nodded. I went back to the foyer and stared up the staircase as I waited for my sister to answer her phone. “What do you want Scar? Aren’t you in a lesson?”
“Well, yeah,” she whispered. “I’m in the bathroom. Just tell me one thing.”
“What!?”
“Can I please meet her!?!?”
“No, now go back before you’re caught. Okay? I have to get back to the lesson.”
I shook my head and shoved my phone in my pocket. I walked back to the dining room where Anastasia was lying on the table, asleep. I smiled a little and walked over to lift her into my arms. She was light, natural for a dancer.
I held her close and her head rested on my shoulder. No doubt I was physically attracted to her… but hundreds of guys were. She shifted slightly and sighed, falling back asleep. I carried her back to her room with ease. She probably knew I wasn’t a dancer, probably because I wasn’t fairy thin. I wasn’t anywhere near thin, but I wasn’t fat. Most people called it muscle.
She sighed a little and I smiled. Her room was big, but there wasn’t much furniture. The walls were the color of warm butterscotch. It was a warm kind of a room. The carpet matched the molten honey color of the doors and walls and furniture. Even though Anastasia couldn’t see it, I wondered if she could feel the warmth.
I laid her down on her bed, the sheets were crimson, the cover was golden with the red detailing. Her eyelashes fluttered slightly and I waited. She relaxed against her pillows and I pulled the blanket to cover her. I turned my head when I heard the sound of a cat. A small kitten was poking it’s head through one of the doors.
It was a pale golden color. I smiled and it padded slowly through the room. It jumped onto the bed and curled up immediately next to Anastasia’s feet. I turned and shut the light off. The room was still warm and golden.
In the foyer I started packing up the books and papers. We had gotten a lot done. More than I had thought we would get done anyways. I heard the front door open and turned to see who it was. Anastasia’s father came into the room, he looked tired. “Luke, how was it? How is she? Where is she?”
“It was all right. She was fine. And right now she’s asleep.”
He nodded and ran a hand through his slightly graying hair. “Asleep?”
“Yeah, I brought her to her room a couple minutes ago so you could probably wake her up if you wanted to.”
“No, it’s good that she’s sleeping. Thanks Luke. The doctor said it could be a couple of months before she accepts what’s really happened.”
“To be honest Mr. Faith, I think that she has accepted it. But I don’t know her that well.”
I shoved the last binder into my backpack and took my keys from the side pocket. “All right, thank you Luke.” He reached into his suit pocket and handed me an envelope. “I know you said that you don’t need it but it doesn’t feel right to be asking you to do this for nothing.”
“I get volunteer hours for it and as long as I get my letter of recommendation I won’t need any money. Thank you though.”
I set the envelope back down on the table and left the house. I sat in my car and took a deep breath. On the road I watched the black asphalt pass under me, it wasn’t very busy. I remembered the first time I had ever met Mr. Faith…
The hospital was quiet, not many people sat in the lobby. I stood up when I spotted my mom rounding the corner, walking fast. “Mom! Can we leave yet?”
“I’m sorry honey. It’s going to be another twenty minutes, max!” she insisted. I would have believed her if she hadn’t been saying it for the past two hours.
“Well, is there anything I can do to make this go faster?”
She sighed. “Could you show Mr. Faith to his daughter’s room? She’s in room seven seventy six. He’s the one in the corner wearing the suit.” She pointed and I nodded.
I walked over to the guy and he stood up, I was just barely eye level with him. “Mr. Faith? If you would follow me I’ll show you to your daughter’s room.”
He followed close behind me and I took a deep breath. We walked around a couple of halls and I opened the door to the room. That’s when I saw the ballerina. “Anastasia is your daughter?” I asked in awe.
“Yes. Why, were you friends with her?” He seemed desperate for me to say yes.
“No… I mean, we’ve gone to school together since… kindergarten. But she wouldn’t know who I am. My sister watches her dance.”
“Past tense, she doesn’t d
ance anymore.”
“Well, I understand. I wouldn’t either if I were her. Could you tell her though, that there’s at least one person around who wants to see her continue with her dance?” He nodded. “I’m sorry, I’m probably wasting your time.”
“It’s quite all right. What’s your name?”
“Luke Surmise.”
He nodded and went to sit beside his sleeping daughter…
I opened the front door of my house and waited… silence greeted me but I knew better than to trust it. I had two older sisters who didn’t live in the house anymore but loved to stop by and torture me. And then Scarlett was very loud. My parents would still be at the hospital, working. Scarlett would still be in her practice…
I was alone, there was peace and quiet, at least for a little while. I went up the stairs and then back to the attic. Living in the attic was a choice. When my sister’s were younger we each had our own room and when Scarlett was born none of them wanted to take the attic so I did. When they moved out, I decided not to move back downstairs.
I set my backpack on the floor next to my desk and smiled at the poster of Scarlett. She was in the middle of a turn, her face completely serious. She loved that she had been chosen to be on the poster for one of her company recitals. That poster and several pictures of her in differing costumes covered the wall around my desk.
The room was big, the walls purple. Once Scarlett had tried to make my entire room pink, pink walls, pink rug, pink bed, pink everything… That lasted a whole five minutes. I laid on my black covered bed and stared at the ceiling…
Sleep was disturbed by my sister sitting on my stomach and bouncing. “Get off me brat,” I said sleepily and shoved at her. She didn’t move. “Come on Scar, off.”
“Are you finally awake?”
“Yeah, now move.” She stood up and I looked at her with question. She was still in her black leotard and blue tutu, the current costume for her recital. I hadn’t seen her come home in her costume for years. She was always afraid of it tearing or getting stained.
“I wanted to get home so I didn’t change.” I sat up and rubbed at my eyes. “Now… Tell me everything!” She sat on my lap and wound her arms around my neck. “Please, please, please, please, please!!” she begged loudly.
“What do you want to know?”
And the questions started pouring out. “What was she like? What did you do? Did she dance? Is she really as gorgeous in person as she is on stage? Does it look like she’s dancing when she’s walking? What was her father like? Does she act like a spoiled rich girl? Is she really that pale? Or is it just tons of makeup? What kind of clothes was she wearing? Did you ask if I could meet her yet? Oh please, please, please, answers!” she insisted. I shook my head and clasped my hands around her waist. Sometimes I wondered how she could get so worked up over one person.
“She’s just like a normal teenager, not spoiled. Like us sort of, even though she lives in a mansion. We did school work and she fell asleep. She didn’t dance. But she is very graceful. She just wore jeans and a t-shirt. She is really that pale and without a doubt gorgeous. Her dad is just like mom, there for a second gone in the next. And no, I might ask her later, when she’s more comfortable.”
She was silent for a minute, as if thinking everything over. “So she’s really that pale?”
“Yeah.”
“And gorgeous?”
“Yes.”
“I would give anything to be as beautiful as she is…” she sighed, daydreaming.
I smiled. “Yeah, you need it brat.” She hit my arm. “So how was the rehearsal today?”
She stiffened and I knew something had happened. “It was all right. We got all the lifts, which is a first. I don’t like the guy who’s supposed to flip me and do my lift… He’s dropped me four times already.” And I didn’t like the sound of that either. “And I can’t get two of my turns.”
“Do you want to
