Dollenganger 3 - If There Be Thorns by Andrews V. C

Author:Andrews, V. C.
Language: eng
Format: epub

Dollenganger 3 - If There Be Thorns

The Last Dance

.

“Jory,” called Mom in relief when she saw me come in, “thank God you're back. Did you enjoy your lunch?”

Sure, I said, fine lunch, and she didn't pay much attention if I didn't elaborate, for she was much too busy with last-​minute details. This was the way it went on performance days; class in the morning, rehearsal in the afternoon and the performance at night. Rush, rush, rush, all the while making yourself believe the world would stop turning if you didn't dance your role to the best of your ability. When the world wouldn't stop . . .

“You know, Jory,” gushed Mom happily in the dressing room we were sharingshe was behind a screen, and we really couldn't see one another“all my life the ballet has thrilled me. But this night will be the grandest of them all because I will be dancing with my own son! I know you and I have danced many times together, but this night is special. Now you're good enough to dance solo. Please, please, do your best so Julian in heaven can be proud of his only son.”

Sure, I'd do my best, always did. The foots

went on, the overture ended; the curtain lifted. There was a moment of silence before the first-​act music began. Mom's kind of music and minetaking us both to that happy never-​never land where anything could happen, even happy endings.

“Mom, you look wonderfulprettier than any of the other dancers!” She did too. She laughed joyfully and told me I certainly knew how to please a woman, and if I kept it up I'd be the Don Juan of the century. “Now listen carefully to the music, Jory. Don't get so absorbed in counting that you forget the music that's the best way to catch the magic, by feeling the music!”

I was so keyed up and tense I'd likely burst in another second or two. “Mom, I hope the father I love best will be sitting front row center.”

That's when she ran to where she could peek out and see the audience. In certain places the foots didn't blind my eyes. “He's not there,” she said dismally, “nor Bart either . . .”

No time for me to answer. I heard my musical cue and danced out with the other members of the corps. Everything went just fine, with Mom up on the balcony as the beautiful doll Coppelia, lifelike enough to inspire love from afar.

But when the first act was over she was left gasping and panting for breath. She hadn't told Dad she was also dancing the role of the village girl, Swanhilda, who loved Franze even as he fell foolishly in love with a mechanical doll. Two roles for Mom difficult roles too as she had choreographed them. Dad certainly would have forbidden her to dance if he had known the full truth about her last dance. Had I been wrong to help her deceive him?

“Mom, how's your knee feeling?” I asked when I saw her grimace once or twice between acts.

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