Chapter Text
Amidst the generous crowd of people, the old duchess stretches out her arm to have a grip of the redhead’s right hand, who had run against time to buy a bouquet of tulips for the star of the spectacle that was about to begin. An ambitious extended recreation of “The Dying Swan” recital became a sensation in town, aunt Lily had told her all about it on the way from the train station to the theater, how Virginia’s entire career as a ballet teacher would pay off that very night.
Her blistered feet from the trip reminded her of her early days as a clumsy little ballerina, who had never made it past the third position, nor the building blocks of ballet. Lily longed for Martha to develop her artistic vein, so they could have a deeper bond other than the hurt they’ve endured together, but not even Mrs. Wright’s strictness could bring it out.
The redhead followed her aunt on the way to their seats, Dobie took a glimpse of the crowded theater, noticing her own ear to ear smile to never leave her face. Her seat gave her a privileged vision of the lavish stage and the philharmonic orchestra; even with the curtains down, she could almost picture the ballerinas’ bending bodies and ethereal moves in sync. Her heart pulsated with joy, anxious to finally witness Karen’s first solo, and being a small portion of her big step on the journey of becoming a prima ballerina.
Silence made itself noticeable once the lights dimmed and the maestro raised his batton. The ten seconds felt an eternity as the curtains rose, revealing a foggy, mysterious set and a handful of ballerinas posing with elegance just waiting for their cue. The theater’s eagerness was incredibly palpable, she could feel everyone buzzing in anticipation, and it was only until the enchanting melody began echoing throughout those tall walls and the dancers’ bodies started flowing in magnetism, that Martha felt a rush of excitement up and down her spine.
As the story of the spectacle unfolded, the music went from delicate and innocent to soaring and powerful, the swan ballerinas flew with their saut de chats while running away from imminent danger, as the hunter rushed after them with his grand pas de chat. Afraid of blinking and missing a millisecond of the first act, Martha remained attentive to every detail; Something inside her told her that her first and only love would appear at any given time, to take away the agony destroying her insides.
The tulips around her grip almost disintegrated in her touch as the melody evolved into a loud downbeat and the spotlight followed Karen as she emerged from darkness, swiftly and gracefully tiptoeing to the middle of the stage, while flapping her arms; lengthened posture and elongated neck, mimicking a swan perfectly. Dobie unintentionally frowned at the sight of Wright’s melodramatic expressions, but a proud smirk suddenly appeared under the attentive eyes.
Channeling her frustrations, Karen glided and flew on the stage with mastery, the layers of feathers on her exquisite costume mirrored her lightness, floating delicately with the wind as she concealed her stage-fright and insecurities. Before the dance could evolve to delicate and grandiose spins as her impersonated wings flapped in the air, the brunette closed her eyes, pursing her lips at the feeling of her toes almost giving up on her inside the pointe shoes.
The mantra "The show must go on" echoed in her mind in the form of her mother’s voice, a reminder of her unwavering commitment to her craft. Despite knowing that her performance might not meet her own high expectations, she continued, fueled by a mix of pride and perfectionism, which could be a blessing or a curse. Wright was always pushing herself to the edge of her own limits, growing up in a subtly hostile and competitive environment like ballet, turned her into someone who’s way too harsh with herself, both in terms of performance and appearance.
Hazel eyes faced the audience once again, a forced smile adorning her features as she masked her own pain and emotional baggage. She continued to gracefully embody the fragile melodies produced by the mix of the violins and cellos, inciting the most sensitive side of the entire theater.
All those enraptured by the spectacle felt time pass by way too quickly. The third act was minutes away from the end. The swan engaged in battle with the hunter in synchronous and vulnerable movements as she fought for her own life. After his last blow, the hunter returned to darkness, and now Karen had the entire stage all for herself, in her last moment of splendor.
Refusing to die, the swan persisted in ethereal motions as she twined her wings and posed slenderly, evolving into a perfectly executed arabesque. Captured by the moment, the audience collectively let out a gasp at the sight of a small stain of blood spreading across Wright’s chest, ruining the delicate white feathered costume. Dazed, the swan delicately found the ground as she persevered, her wings moving like the calmest waves. In a stretched figure, Karen’s forehead met her extended leg, both arms projected in front of her. The swan had finally found peace amidst agony.
As she remained there, motionless trying to steady her breathing, the loud applause and shouts of “Bravo!” echoed through the theater, and they lasted for as long as she could remember. The curtains went down, and she could still hear them, her first moment of greatness had come to an end. Finding herself at a loss of words, trying to process what she’s just seen, Martha stood up while constantly applauding as tears pricked behind her eyes.
The curtains rose once more, revealing all the dancers side by side, gratitude permeating their expressions as they bowed to the audience at least three times. It wasn’t long before Karen found herself alone on stage again, her eyebrows furrowed and lips curled into a faint smirk as she fought a lump in her throat and went over everything she did wrong.
Feeling overwhelmed by the standing ovation, she bowed gracefully once again, soon sensing her vision being compromised by the spotlights aiming directly at her. From below the stage, someone held out a bouquet of red roses, which matched the stain in her dress. Dobie vibrated at the sight of Wright holding the roses while bowing once again, followed by a quick nod as she looked out into the audience. With a concealed smile, Karen bit her bottom lip before muttering endless “Thank you’s”.
As the curtains descended, inciting the end of it all, the brunette didn’t take long before running across the backstage like a hurricane, bumping into some workers and other dancers along the way, in search of solace in the solitude of her dressing room. Sensing anxiety spreading through her heart, Karen held her tears for as long as she could, and by the time she shut the door closed, she allowed herself to have a little moment of peace and quiet.
Wiping her persistent tears away, the brunette found herself in the middle of endless bouquet of flowers and good-luck letters she received before the spectacle, feeling the two-year hardwork and rehearsal go down the drain. Impotence, that's what she felt; Anything she did would never be enough to achieve the infamous perfection that had been imposed on her her entire life, not even standing ovations could prove her otherwise. This battle Karen would have to face alone.
It took only a few minutes until her peace was disturbed, wiping away the traces of tears, Karen soon saw her family members walking through the door. Her father, Richard, with open arms to comfort and congratulate her on the brilliant performance. Right behind him, Katherine and Kathleen, her older and younger sisters, followed by the imposing figure of Virginia, her mother, with the infamous frown and seriousness permeating her features.
“Twinkle toes…” He addressed her by the nickname she’s had for as long as she could remember, pulling her into a quick embrace. Karen rested her head on the family patriarch, hiding her sad grin. “You were superb, darling!” Richard placed his manly hands onto the delicate shoulders, taking a peek at those shiny doe-eyes she’d inherited from his wife. “I’m so proud of you…”
“Oh, father…” said her in lack of confidence, doing her best to hide her urge to fall apart right there. Mr. Wright held his daughter’s right hand, in reassurance.
The two Wright sisters waiting in line simply had to exchange a warm and reassuring look at the middle sister for the ballerina to find solace in their arms. Karen allowed herself to take in the few seconds of that triple hug to find the strength she searched for, in the meantime, noticing her mother’s reprimanding stare standing only a meter away. “Don’t let her get in your head, do you hear?” Kate whispered in her ear as Karen nodded.
“You’ve never danced better. You were great, truly!” the younger one said, holding both her hands tightly, an encouraging smile under delicate and twinkly blue eyes.
Seeming like an orchestrated act, the headmistress of the Wright Ballet Academy waited until the three left the room and she was alone with her middle child, as if they knew what was to come, and deep down they did. The brunette kept her look down, trying to avoid the strict and hypercritical stare she grew up trying to please.
The silence installed between the two was nothing but unbearable, this was the former ballerina’s way of punishing her for her poor performance.
“I could’ve done better, I know…” Amidst quietness, Karen admitted, her voice hanging by a thread.
“All the time, all the rehearsals, two years of hard-work thrown away…” The headmistress started with a low passive-aggressive tone, her calmness barely concealing her harsh words. “There were times you looked like Quasimodo on stage, for God’s sake!” Like the very good British woman she was, Virginia was rather eloquent and firm with her words. “I’m hard on you because I love you, and I just want you to be the best version of yourself, and that wasn’t what I saw up there.” A long pause lingered between them, the brunette felt tears pricking behind her eyes yet again.
“Look at me, Karen…” Fighting her quivering lips, she did as she was told, putting on her best poker face to go through that conversation. The two pairs of hazel eyes met, however, only one of them battled with powerlessness.
“I can’t afford another daughter to give up on ballet like your sisters did.” The headmistress uttered firmly, while staring right into those eyes. “I cannot and will not .” Karen spotted the expressive eyebrows frowning, she could count on one hand the number of times she saw her mother show her vulnerable side. “If you want to be the best you must work harder, harder than the others. Otherwise you’ll end up just like me.”
For her luck, Karen was excused from further humiliation by two knocks on the door, revealing the stage manager’s assistant’s head peeking through the frame. “Uh, excuse Ms. Wright? There are two women here to see you…”
“No visitors right now, please…”
“I told them that, miss, but they insisted. Lily Mortar and Martha Dobie?” At the mention of the last name, the headmistress saw the hazel doe-eyes lightening up. Exchanging glances with her mother, Karen took a step closer to the door.
“Oh, please, let them in…” With sweetness lingering in her voice and orbs, she sensed the lump in her throat again. The ballerina felt the extremities of her body tingling. With her feet free of the pointe shoes this time, her uneasiness came from the thought of encountering Martha again, as well as the emotional baggage of the couple years they’ve spent apart.
Mrs. Mortar went in first as Dobie followed, her presence seemed to fill every corner with the echoes of her theatrical past. She was so dramatic and articulated in her day-to-day life, it felt as if she was playing a part the entire time. “Oh, Karen darling!” The old duchess exclaimed, arms outstretched for an embrace. “You were absolutely divine! Fluttering and plunging with such grace, a real poetry in motion! Oh, I get the chills just talking about it!” Looking at Karen while still gripping her arms, the ballerina felt disoriented as the former actress rambled.
“Thank you, Mrs. Mortar,” said Karen shyly, while bowing her head. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Martha standing next to the door holding the bouquet of tulips purchased hours prior, seemingly slightly ashamed of her aunt’s dramatic display.
“Oh, Ginia, you really taught her well. She’s really stardom worthy, believe me, I know.”
As she approached the Wright matriarch for a hug, Virginia gave her a gloomy smirk, aware those words wouldn’t change her mind about what she’d seen. “How are you, Lily?” She said out of politeness, while engaging in an invasive embrace.
“How are you? Long-time no see… Guess I’ll be seeing a lot of you after this piece…”
Rolling her eyes pretentiously, Virginia pouted her lips while gripping the old duchess’ hands tighter. “Hopefully…” The English lady said in slight disbelief. Still gushing over the spectacle, the former actress seemed to have a handful of opinions about it, acting like the art critic she herself assumed she was. The headmistress’ eyes wandered to Karen standing meters away from Martha and vice-versa, staring at each other as if they needed a push to interact.
Not really paying attention to Mortar’s questions or loud opinions, Virginia interrupted her, “Lily, why don’t we step outside for some time? I’ll tell you all about it. The girls could use a moment alone.”
Watching the pretentious actress and headmistress leaving the room, the moment the door was closed behind them, the hazel eyes returned to the redhead, who avoided the exchange of glances by staring at the bouquet in her hands. As the blue orbs rose, Martha could now watch the thick eyebrows and lips frowning and the doe-eyes fighting the urge to cry. Words weren’t necessary when they both shared a past filled with companionship and tribulations.
Blinded by the figure of the small Martha she had grown up with, Karen found herself stunned by the young woman she had become. The woman who carried all her pain, secrets and memories. Still facing the ocean blues, the dancer crossed the distance between them and fell into her arms, in a long, silent and most needed hug.
Feeling fingertips caressing the nape of her neck, Wright buried her face in the redhead’s shoulder, a few units of tears falling onto the fabric of her tweed coat. Martha found herself intoxicated by Karen’s sweet fragrance, a scent as refined and compelling as she was. For a moment, Dobie wondered if she had switched perfumes, but was willing to get herself addicted to yet another one.
After separating, the ballerina’s digits fell from the student’s arms to her waist, meanwhile, they glanced at each other with pure bliss and adoration. Martha’s thumb found the defined cheekbones as it wiped away the few traces of tears, careful not to ruin the exquisite swan makeup. The delicate ballerina hands met the red hair strands, in awe of Martha’s new pixie cut. At the feeling of the brunette dodging her eyes away from hers, Dobie kept her orbs locked on the hazels wishing Karen would finally look at them. Holding out the bouquet of pink tulips, the brunette accepted it fondly, smelling their soft scent.
Those delicate flowers have always been her favorites, since she was little. They used to have playful escapades to the tulip fields to play hide and seek. God knows how meaningful that simple gesture was.
“You still remember! Thank you so much, Martha.” The ballerina showed her a sympathetic smirk, before the lips met Dobie’s cheek. Martha closed her eyes to make this moment last for as long as she could, which went unnoticed by Karen. Caressing the pink bulbs, Wright made her way towards an empty flower vase to arrange them.
“That was beautiful, Karen! Truly heavenly! I couldn’t be prouder…” The student’s voice trembled with emotion, a genuine smile gracing her lips as she watched the brunette moving across the room.
“Don’t start lying to me now, Martha…” As her voice echoed from the private bathroom, Karen couldn’t help but deflect Martha’s praises with self-deprecation, as she filled the vase with water. The blue orbs rolled at the remark. “Atrocious that’s more like it… They must’ve thought it was an ugly-duckling show.”
“Was that what your mother said to you?” Comforting herself on the small couch, Martha watched as Wright paced through the room, leaving the flowers and reaching for the strips of her stained swan costume to remove it.
“Doesn’t matter. She’s still right.” Said Karen with her back turned to Martha, the redhead observed her ballerina muscles with adoration as she undressed and made a bigger mess of her dressing room by throwing the piece in a pile of clothes on an armchair. Dobie placed her elbow on the armrest, her fist under her chin as a lovely expression took over her delicate features.
“Well, you were astounding to me, whether you like it or not.”
The hazel eyes rolled in amusement, “You’ve always said that. I wonder if you lie all the time and I never caught you.”
“Well, I’m a very bad liar. But that doesn’t make it any less true. I had to catch some air after it, if that helps.”
Freeing herself of the structured tutu skirt, the brunette found herself in nothing but her underwear. Soon, the ocean blues wandered through the room in pure respect for her friend, who didn’t worry about covering her petite breasts, not that there was anything there she hasn’t seen or touched before. “How do you feel right now? Really?” Martha asked in clear sympathy, as her orbs rose to look at Wright’s back yet again.
“Tired. I can’t wait to get into bed…” Her tone permeated tiredness, as she put on her brassiere with no difficulty.
“Is your bed still your bed?” Helplessly, the redhead’s mind reeled with delightful and dangerous memories of the two, their greatest moments happened in that very bed. If people were telepathic, Martha would most definitely be sent away for bad behavior.
“Well, I switched rooms with Kate. She got married and moved out. She’s a mother now, and trying for another one…” Dobie sensed traces of sadness in her tone, the brunette looked down while putting on her undergarments. “Anyhow, I have the bigger one… Kathy wasn’t very happy about it of course. She always dreamed of it.” Karen made her way towards the clothes’ rack, going through her pieces, soon finding a simple, but fancy black dress.
“How is Kathy?”
The ballerina rolled her eyes once again, “Running after boys…” The ocean blues spotted an amusing expression from the brunette. Almost as if she disapproved of her sister’s pedant actions.
“Same old…” Amidst silence, the student contemplated the ballerina’s sad semblant as she dragged the pompous dress through her body. “And you?”
Allowing the question to get lost in the quietness, Karen’s eyes rose to stare at Martha with glistening gloominess. “Zip me up, will you?” Briefly ignoring the question, Karen turned her back to her and Dobie did what she was told, fighting the urge to touch her exposed skin.
Facing Martha yet again, the brunette curled her lips in a sad smirk, as the doe-eyes found the floor. “Same old…” It took a deep breath for Karen to conceal her sadness. “But let’s not talk about me. What about you? You’ve just arrived! How is college? Is it everything you’ve ever wanted?” Dodging the interrogation, she bombarded Martha with questions, her smirk reflecting the sudden excitement.
“I have my bad days but… It’s great. The city’s nice, it’s chilly most of the time, I found a part-time job as a typist. I have calluses on my fingers now, but I always get the extra penny.” The ballerina observed in pure bliss, as Martha trailed off.
Pacing to the dresser, Karen sat down, watching the reflection she constantly tried to avoid, as she focused on removing the remnants of the swan makeup, soon working on a simpler but elegant look.
“How is it living on your own?” Wright tossed the silence away, while looking at Martha through the reflection, as she patted powder on some areas of her graceful features.
“Without aunt Lily, it’s like I’ve finally found heaven!”
They shared another laugh. The blue eyes watched quietly as Karen sat elegantly, too concentrated on herself to pay attention to the world around her. And they were sixteen again, Dobie watching as Wright meticulously got ready, many were the times the ballerina tried using the student’s face as her canvas, but Martha was never a makeup girl.
“Plans tonight?”
“We’re going to Buona Vitta to celebrate. Well, I guess there isn’t much to toast for…” The brunette thinks to herself as she puts on some rouge on her cheeks. “Tell you what, you and Lily should join us… Consider it a celebration of your return!”
“Oh, Karen, that’s family business, I don’t want to meddle. Besides, I just left the train station, I look a fright!”
“Martha, don’t be silly… You are family. Besides, they don’t have a dress code, you look just fine.” They bickered as if they hadn't spent two years apart. Looking at the redhead over her shoulder, Karen gesticulated with her rouge brush, while working with the charming doe-eyes to do their magic. “Please Martha, I want you there…” She slightly pouted the full lips, to reach the student’s compassion. “It’ll be easier if you go…”
Finding hard to stare at those enchanting hazels for longer, Martha rolled her ocean blues in pure defeat, while sighing deeply. “Alright.”
A happy squeak went past the British's lips, as she continued working on her face. The redhead’s adorable gaze never left the ballerina, it was like time didn’t exist between them. “Why is it that I can never say ‘No’ to you?”
“Perhaps you love me too much…” Now holding her mascara brush, Karen turned around to take a peek at her friend, finishing the sentence with a playful smirk hovering her lips.
Unfortunately, the world outside those walls needed to make itself known. Both women were startled by two knocks on the door, soon followed by a creak. A young man formally dressed in a wool suit now stood at the entrance, a smile emerged as his eyes wandered to the ballerina fixing herself up for dinner. Karen’s eyes met his, and Dobie witnessed her aspect abruptly changing.
“Is the star ready? We’re waiting for you…” Said he with a wicked smile, his broad figure leaning against the door frame.
“I’ll be out in a minute.” The brunette said coldly, soon going back to apply mascara as a sign for him to leave.
Internally affected by her reaction, before he left, the man’s glance finally landed on Martha, who analyzed him in genuine curiosity. Her unfriendly glare most certainly didn’t please him one bit. Once the door was closed, a heaviness took over the air. Wright didn’t have the guts to bring out a topic of conversation, nor did Martha have the courage of asking the million dollar question. Both chose to leave it be and allowed silence to linger.
As they cramped up in the backstage corridor again, Karen looked gracious in her square-necked black dress. The ballerina grabbed the attention of most of those around, while Martha simply went after her, attentive eyes taking in everything. Approaching a small group of people, which Dobie later noted were Virginia, Aunt Lily, the wool suit man and some older men holding pens and notepads, the student strangely felt displaced..
“You look gorgeous…” The redhead heard the man she previously encountered whispering in her friend’s ear, after reaching for her hand and holding it tightly. In the meantime Karen looked rather uneasy, as if she longed to get away from his touch; And things looked even more painful when his lips met her cheek, and, in return, the ballerina showed him a fake smirk.
The sight was almost unbearable, Martha naturally frowned, feeling her stomach twisting and turning in her insides.
“Mother? Can Martha and Mrs. Mortar join us at Buona Vitta tonight?” Compromised to the task of ignoring the wool suit man, Karen proceeded to ask the headmistress, interrupting her conversation with the journalists, those doe-eyes coming in handy once again.
“Oh, of course! It would be a delight to have you!” The former ballerina said politely, exchanging glances with Mortar, who seemed pleased with the invitation. “But first, we must do press.”
“Press?!” Asked the brunette in confusion.
“Yes, darling. Most of the regional papers are here. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten…” The Wright matriarch pretentiously said, her tone laced with a hint of mock incredulity, eliciting laughter from the assembled journalists there.
Taking the role of the spectator once again, Martha’s eyes wandered from the high outer walls of the theater to the large group of people circling her best friend, screaming, filming and asking her numerous questions about the spectacle. The chilly night caused her hands to find refuge in her overcoat’s pockets, the redhead felt her figure contracting in reaction to the low temperature, still, the ocean blues remained attentive to the broad man next to Karen and his every move.
As if it became a natural reaction, Martha’s eyes diverted after witnessing his manly right hand meeting the small of the ballerina’s back. Unintentionally, a frustrated sigh went past the thin lips, and Mortar, who surprisingly quietly stood beside her niece, clearly perceived her restlessness, as Martha nervously shaked her leg.
“Glad to know you’re happy to be back,” the old duchess started in irony, followed by a judging glance at grumpy Martha.
With lips pressed into a thin line, her eyebrows furrowed in consternation as she found a hard time maintaining her composure. Despite her inner turmoil, she redirected her gaze to the front, feeling the nauseous picture leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.
“Aunt Lily?” Impulsively, she simply decided to rip the band-aid off. “The man with Karen… Who is he?” The million dollar question went past her lips, as her gaze never left the two.
“Ah, that’s Charlie. Charles Grant. His father is a doctor in town, they moved here a couple years ago. Nice folks. His father was the one who told me to quit smoking but, you know me…” As the older woman trailed off, she spotted the two, smiling fondly at the view. “He’s been around Karen lately. Well, aren’t they sweet? I’ve heard some talk about a potential engagement, but you know how rumors fly around here…”
Dobie’s heart skipped a beat.
“Engagement?!” Asked the student in genuine exasperation permeating her entire being.
The old duchess’ smile faltered at her niece’s fiery reaction, concern flickering in her eyes. At a loss of words, Martha prevented herself from any chance of further discussion, afraid to raise any suspicion. With a heavy heart, the redhead sticked to silence, her mind racing with questions and doubts as she felt the ground beneath her feet crumbling all at once.