by Gina Sorell
And just like that he changed the subject and switched back to being the life of the party. “Come, I’ll knock this back and we’ll get another, yes? There’s still a lot of celebrating to do and only one night to do it.” He downed his glass of wine, paid the bill, and was on his feet lighting a cigarette and helping me out of my chair before I could say another word.
I glided out of the restaurant on my red-wine balloon, tethered to the ground only by the solid grip of Henri’s hand. There was no way I could keep up with his drinking, and I didn’t want to. Knowing that this was our only night together, I was hoping we’d end up naked and rolling around the floor. I also hoped I’d be better in bed than the first time, but as I hadn’t had any practice in between, I wasn’t sure how that was going to be possible. But I hoped so nonetheless.
We went to see a French torch singer at some little club in Soho, where he seemed to know the bartender and a few of the other customers, and over diet soda for me and another bottle of wine for him, I learned that he had actually lived in New York with a girlfriend one summer. He was supposed to be studying art at Parsons, but instead spent all his time at this bar where other Parisians gathered. He’d also taken a course in journalism, and one in business, and another at culinary school, but they never seemed to go anywhere. He told me about backpacking through Europe and nightclubs in Greece, and how he’d never seen anyone drink as much as Australians, which was saying something coming from him.
I missed my curfew, although I was less worried about that than I was about being caught sneaking Henri into my room. From the sounds of music coming from some of the other rooms, it was clear Madame Gitard had decided to look the other way on the last night of the tour and let everybody have their final night of fun. This time I was the one to make the first move, grabbing Henri and kissing him hard on the mouth once we were safely inside. My heart was racing as I pressed my body against his and ran my hands against his chest. I started to undo the buttons on his shirt, but he took my hands in his, pressed them together, and gently pushed me back.
“I don’t want to rush this time,” he said, placing one finger beneath the strap of my dress and slipping it off my shoulder. He slipped my other strap down and my dress fell away, taking my alcohol-inspired confidence along with it. I stood naked except for my underwear, lit only by the light of my bedside table, and started to shiver.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“No,” I whispered back. “Nervous.”
“Don’t be.” He held my face in his hands and began to kiss my eyelids, slowly working his way down my body. He paused just above my underwear and then slid them off and pulled me toward him, finding me with his mouth. My eyes widened as I inhaled sharply, and I started to reach down to pull him up. I was embarrassed and started to tell him that he didn’t have to, to which he replied that he wanted to, and sometime after that I stopped thinking and started feeling until the whole room was a blur and I was gasping for breath. It was another first. When I called out, Henri stood up, lifted me onto the bed, and quickly tore off his own clothes.
I pulled the rough hotel sheet over my body and curled into Henri’s side, listening to his heart beat loudly. I kissed his chest and smiled to myself as he twisted his fingers through my hair. The room was hot without the air conditioning on, and a thin layer of sweat covered us both. Before Henri, the most I’d done was make out with a guy at some of the parties that Arden had dragged me to. They were awkward, impatient fumblings, greedy hands grasping in the dark for a bit of breast or ass until they could make their way into my pants. I just assumed that like all the girls I knew, I’d do a little more each time, and eventually one day I’d lose my virginity to some equally inexperienced guy, because it would be time or it would be expected of me and it would be no big deal. I had heard that it wasn’t great the first few times and that it was over before it really began. I didn’t expect anything different, and I never thought I’d skip all that adolescent fumbling and be schooled by an intense Frenchman who took sex seriously and seemed as focused on my enjoyment as much as his own.
“Did you really lose your virginity to a woman twice your age?” I asked.
“I did, but I am not twice your age, Elsie.”
“I know, I just…you are older and more experienced, and I just wonder what that must be like. What I must be like.” I had told myself that I wasn’t going to ask to be rated and ended up doing it anyway.
“What did you think it was like?” he said, turning on his side to look at me.
“I don’t have anything to compare it to,” I said softly.
“Who’s talking about comparing? You know if something feels good, if it feels right, if it makes you happy. That’s inside you,” he said, pointing to my heart. “No one can tell you differently.”
“Well then, for me…it’s wonderful.”
“For me too,” he said.
I held his hand against my heart and looked into his eyes. Up close, he looked older than he was; his eyes appeared tired, and I wondered if they’d always been that way or if something had changed them. I felt a lump rise in my throat and tried to swallow it. I wasn’t sure why, but holding Henri close like that, seeing him naked and spent before me, made me want to weep. I felt the sadness that I had sensed from him before starting to seep from his skin. It was a deep sadness that he managed to keep buried most of the time, and it was slowly leaking out now that we were alone and he was vulnerable. I had no words for it, only an idea of who had put it there, and it made me angry. I wanted to take it away from him, to replace it with something else, and so I took his lips in mine, pulled his body as tight to me as I could, and rolled on top of him.
CHAPTER TEN
I looked at Shadow sleeping curled up in my lap and scooped her up. I hated to disturb her, but I needed to hold her close, to feel her heart beat against mine. She indulged me a few moments and then hopped on the bed opposite me, stretched out, and immediately fell back asleep. I envied her for that. Every muscle in my body called out for sleep, and just shifting my weight in the chair left me exhausted. I knew I should snuggle up next to Shadow and try to rest for a few hours before the sun came up, but my mind was racing, reliving the past that seemed to be everywhere since I returned to Toronto. Too many memories called out to me, held me in their grasp, and demanded that I spend time with them, taking me back to those summer months when everything changed. I told myself that it was too dangerous to relive those two years leading up to my eighteenth birthday, and the traumas that I had buried in a box of my own, pushed down deep inside my body as far from my head and heart as I could get it. But in coming back to Toronto, my past threatened to find me, and if I wanted to stay ahead of it, I needed to go back to LA. As soon as the sun was up I called Diane and told her to list the apartment as is and take the first offer she got. Then I dressed quickly and drove back to Dalewood for the last time.
I entered the lobby and saw Vincent standing, like he had been expecting to see me.
“I take it this is goodbye,” he said.
“It is.”
I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him, gave him a big hug, and sighed heavily as he hugged me back.
“I remember all the other times you left, when you went away to dance, when you got your own place, moved to LA. You came to say goodbye, but I knew I’d see you again. But this time feels different, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, it does.”
“Sometimes, when a parent dies, you get that orphan feeling, like there’s nothing left to connect you. It doesn’t have to be bad. It can set you free, if you let it.”
“I’d like that,” I said. I smiled and touched his arm. “Please take care of yourself, Vincent.”
“I have no choice. My wife and daughter say they’ll kill me if I’m not around to see my grandkids graduate.” He shook his head and smiled. It was the first I’d ever heard of them, and we both knew it.
“I’m really glad to hear it.”
“You going
up?” he asked, and we both smiled. It was what he’d to say to me when I used to hang around the lobby instead of taking the elevator up to see my mother.
“Yeah. I’m going to say goodbye.” I gave his arm a small squeeze and took the elevator one last time up to my mother’s apartment. I had gotten rid of nearly everything aside from the largest pieces of furniture. These would soon go too, and someone else would make the apartment their own. I opened the door and took one last look around. Diane said she’d put a few things that I’d left behind from my previous visit in a paper bag by the front closet. I saw the neat package immediately, handles folded down, edges still crisp. Inside was a scarf I thought was gone forever, a brand-new book called Spiritual Rehab that I certainly didn’t want to keep, and the book on dance I hadn’t been able to part with. I also found the program from that final performance in New York City. I opened it, and the little slip of paper announcing This evening the solo of Arden Douglas will be performed by Elspeth Robins fluttered out. Flipping through the program, I fondly recalled the familiar faces of my dance family, remembering the morning after our last performance and the months that followed, when everything changed.
Henri left as the sun started to rise, and I held onto him at the door for a long time, clutching the little piece of paper with his address in Paris and promising to write the moment I got back to Toronto. As soon as he left, I showered, packed, and found Madame Gitard to tell her I was going to leave school and join the company full time. She was pleased, and instructed me to spend the next month training and getting in shape. I wasn’t sure what shape she meant, but I knew that as the youngest member of the company, I’d have a lot to prove and that a summer spent dancing was not the same as doing it full time. She would wait until we were back home to tell Arden the news. I found a seat at the back of the train, and when Arden crutched on with Ramon, I pretended to be asleep so I wouldn’t have to answer the question of how the night before had gone. By now, she’d know that it had gone great, and in twelve hours, she’d know that I had taken her place.
After two months of being away, I had the same feeling I always had when I came home, that it was someone else’s place I was returning to and not my own. I felt like a visitor now more than ever. With the exception of my room, so little of me could be seen in this space. It was all my mother’s: her art, her furniture, her books, and her magazines. Anything that was mine was in my room. I even had my own bathroom, and unless I needed to go to the kitchen, I rarely ventured out.
I dragged my duffle bag to my bedroom and dumped it in the corner. It was just as I’d left it, and the fact that so little had changed was more depressing than ever. I felt like I’d gone back in time, the post-show void growing larger inside me. I tried to recapture the feeling I had right after I’d performed Arden’s solo and Madame Gitard invited me to join the company. I closed my eyes, replaying the moment over and over, trying to ignite the feeling I’d had, the one that made me feel special. It was still there, but fainter now that I was home, and I knew that when my mother came back it would be fainter still. I’d go to school first thing Monday morning and let them know I was leaving and would be finishing my education by correspondence. I wouldn’t ask my mother’s permission, but rather tell her what I’d done when she returned.
But she didn’t return, not for weeks. I found the note on the dining room table, a single white piece of paper folded in half with nothing more than a few sentences written in her left-leaning, slanted handwriting, and several hundred dollars in cash.
Elspeth,
Use the money wisely, it is to last for a month. I have gone with Philippe to share the light of the Seekers. This is important work that we are doing, and I hope you can understand and use this as an opportunity to grow. If you need anything, you can always ask Vincent.
Mother
Mother, what a joke. I read the letter over and over again, as if doing so would somehow make it different. I pictured her sitting at the table fully dressed with her bags packed, writing this note on her way out of the door, puffed up by the fact that she was accompanying Philippe on his mission. I thought it was no coincidence they left the day before I arrived, and I wondered if Philippe had been afraid of seeing me, or if he’d worried that if left alone with my mother, I may have told her about the night he told me to kiss him. This isn’t about you, I could hear my mother saying, this is important work. She could be so condescending. I slammed my hand on the table and yelled, “I am important!” while angry tears fell down my face.
Leaving school was easier than I thought. I didn’t really have many friends except for Arden. We did everything together, and she was popular enough that I could always hang out with her crowd. I wondered what that crowd would think about her now, knocked up and getting married right out of school, but I wouldn’t let myself feel sorry for her. After all, it had been her choice; she’d made it without me, and she’d have to get through it without me too.
Rehearsals for the company started a week after we returned, and with no distractions, I threw myself into them. It wasn’t just any place that I was taking in the company, it was Arden’s, and I didn’t want there to be any doubt that I deserved it. I started a new routine: I’d wake at 6:30 a.m., make my way through half a pot of coffee and a protein shake as I did my classwork, and then jog to the studio. By 9:00 a.m. I’d be warming up for the company class, followed by our first rehearsal. At noon, I’d break for a lunch of salad and a hard-boiled egg, and then rehearsals would resume until 5:00 p.m., when we’d call it a day. After rehearsals I’d grab a big bowl of tofu and vegetable soup in Chinatown with the other dancers, then walk the hour home, no matter how tired I was, letting my legs turn to jelly and burning any calories I may have collected at dinner. I’d return to Dalewood around 7:00 p.m., have a hot bath, and then ice my shins and hips with bags of peas that filled my freezer, and tend to my feet. I’d learned how to soak them in Epsom salts to dry out blisters, and to carefully pumice and shape the callouses I needed to dance barefoot. Finally I’d complete my schoolwork for the day, do my sit-ups, and collapse into bed by 9:30 p.m. It was the same thing day in and day out, five days a week, and I loved it. When Saturdays came, I’d go by the studio and take the professional drop-in classes and push myself to the limit, inspired by the talent of the dancers who came by as a way to stay limber. Sundays were the hardest; with no classes or rehearsals, I’d find myself counting the hours until the weekend ended. And when my mother finally returned from spreading the word with Philippe, Sundays became unbearable.
My mother returned on a Sunday. “Thank you Vincent,” she said, breezing into the apartment with her hands full of mail and Vincent carrying her luggage. She was tanned and glowing, her golden hair made even lighter by the sun. She kicked off her sandals and piled the mail on the entrance table.
“Welcome back, ma’am. Must be nice to be home, for both of you.” He nodded my way and closed the door behind him.
“Yes, of course.” She turned around to face me and managed a small smile.
“Hello, Elspeth.”
“Mother. You’re back,” I said, en route to taking my clothes to the laundry room off the kitchen.
“For a few weeks, yes.” She flipped through the mail without opening it.
I walked past her and put my clothes in the washing machine. I wasn’t going first this time. I waited for her to ask me how I was, how the tour went, anything.
“You really let this pile up,” she said under her breath, but loud enough so I’d hear it.
We hadn’t seen each other in months and she wanted to talk about the mail? What about me? What about the tour?
“In fact, there’s a letter here for you, from your school.” She emphasized the last word and waited for me to say something, and when I didn’t, she tore the envelope open, cleared her throat and continued. “They want to remind you that you still have a lock on your locker and as you are no longer a student there, if you don’t want them to cut it off, you should go b
y Monday and remove your things.” She placed her hands on her hips and looked at me expectantly.
“They can cut it off,” I said, continuing to put soap in the machine, my back to her. “There’s nothing in there anyway.”
“Elspeth. Look at me.” She spoke slowly and clearly.
I turned around as she asked and walked into the living room.
“Do you mind telling me what they’re talking about?” It wasn’t a real question, or else I would have been tempted to answer yes.
“I dropped out of school,” I said, stuffing my hands into my jean pockets. “Three months ago.”
“And why didn’t you tell me?” Her cheeks were getting flushed.
“You. Weren’t. Here.” I let the words hang and stared right back at her.
“I see.” Her mouth pinched and she inhaled sharply. “I was—”
“Doing important work. I know, I got the note.”
“And the money.” It was her turn to let her words hang. I felt like reminding her it was her job to support her child, but there was no point. “You know, you can’t just drop out of school and expect that I’ll support you the rest of your life while you dance part time.”
“It’s not part time. It’s full time; they offered me a place in the company and a chance to do my studies on my own time, and I took it. I figured with all the support you’re giving Philippe and the Seekers, there wouldn’t be any money left for me.” I was practically shouting, and I hadn’t realized it until I saw my mother’s eyes widen. Maybe she thought I hadn’t noticed that the fridge was always full of his favorite fine foods when he stayed with us, or that I hadn’t seen her writing him checks for the Seekers and their causes.
“What I do with my money is my business,” she said, clenching her jaw.
“And what I do with my life is mine.”
