Mothers and Other Strangers by Gina Sorell

Author:Gina Sorell [Sorell, Gina]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
ISBN: 9781938849909
Publisher: Prospect Park Books
Published: 2017-04-10T06:00:00+00:00

I changed as quickly as I could, peeling off my dance clothes and using baby wipes to wipe myself down. There were never showers at any of our venues, and we all did the best we could to wash in sinks with rough paper towels and cheap hand soap until we got back to our rooms and could bathe. Whoever brought perfume would pass it around, and we’d all spritz ourselves in whatever it was, whether it was intended for men or women. We laughed that we smelled like we all worked at the same cologne counter, and tonight I felt part of the laughter. I took my hair out of my bun, pulled a black slip that I wore as a dress over my head, and tied a scarf around my waist. A swipe of lipstick and I was out the door to meet Henri. My stomach must’ve done twenty flips from the change room to the lobby. A moment of ice-cold panic hit me as I wondered if Henri might have left. Surely something had to go wrong; the night had gone too well, and my mother had always taught me to be ready for the dark clouds that were on the edge of every blue sky.

I looked out into the crowd of proud parents and friends hugging the other dancers, arms full of flowers and faces full of pride, and tried to find the one face that I longed to see. Henri. He had stayed. He was leaning in the open doorway, his back to the crowd, smoking. He wasn’t looking over his shoulder or glancing at his watch. He was just taking long, slow drags off his cigarette and staring into the night.

“Thanks for coming,” I said, walking up next to him. I wanted to reach out and grab him. He was wearing all black, a thrift-store jacket and jeans and a button-down shirt that was opened low. His skin was tanned, and his dark gray eyes widened when he saw me.

“Thanks for the invite,” he said, tossing his cigarette into the street and handing me a single red rose. He leaned in close and kissed my neck, and I smelled red wine on him. His face was warm, and his stubble tickled my skin and gave me goosebumps. “Congratulations,” he said, picking his plastic glass of wine up from the front steps and raising it to me. “They’d only let me take one, so we’ll have to share.”

“I better not, not here,” I said, looking back at Madame Gitard.

“Ah, right. Of course,” he said, finishing half the glass.

“Did you want to meet the other dancers?” I asked, tugging at the scarf around my waist.

“Did you want me to?”

“No. I don’t know. I just.…” I had no idea what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t as awkward as this. I reached out and put my hand on his chest and was relieved when he wrapped his hands around my waist and buried his face in my hair.

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