Chapter Thirty-One The Performer
Chapter Thirty-One
The Performer
When the sun fell, the city woke. Friday night, mild weather, and the twinkling of occupied windows as plentiful as the stars. There were no stars in the sky because they were all down here, shimmering in the streets after dusk.
Surrey and barouche carriages would be making their debuts with horses just as flashy as the mobiles themselves. Though now you could hear just as much sputtering of engines as the clopping of hooves.
With all the luxury of transportation, one forgot the art of meandering. Arkady and I took to the street, arm in arm. There was no rush to be at the show early, and the theater wasn’t far. To be fair, no establishment was that far here.
The balletomanes crowded in their place of worship, their regular tithing, the stage their church, the performers their prophets. I did not know if I believed in God, but I believed there were things in this world that could move the soul, art being among the most powerful next to death.
A swarm had already gathered. The slow trickle of people disappeared one by one through the doors as their tickets were checked.
I stopped in my tracks, the block alight from the electric bulbs of the marquee sign, The Brass Globe, proudly atop the fixture.
La Sylphide
The letters black and bold, like seeing the face of someone who’s since passed.
We were here to see the premiere. Most importantly, it was supposed to be Lorelei’s debut.
Just remembering made me want to walk a couple more blocks, to postpone the showing. There were many feelings I couldn’t quite come to terms with. Could it be jealousy? Guilt? Going at all felt too much like a confrontation; I didn’t even know if I could stay for its entirety.
Skipping would be a waste, as I’d gone through the effort of looking nice.
A silk gown, cream with white datura embroidered down the front.
The sleeves were a short white lace that tickled my arms. The opera gloves fashioned from the same cut of silk.
Pearls were light in my ears, much more comfortable than any rock.
Glimmering on my fourth finger was my engagement ring, a deep red like blood orange.
“You’re hesitating,” Arkady said, standing in front of me to pull me from my fixation.
“We aren’t in a rush.” I thumbed my engagement ring, twisting it absently.
He placed his hands on my shoulders, pressing down slightly.
I sighed at the pressure, my head loping back. “Would you be upset if we didn’t go?”
His fingers cupped either side of my face, letting my head relax into his touch.
“I don’t know why you bothered with all the finery if you didn’t want to go,” he hummed, glancing at the theater, the crowd almost finished filing in. When he looked back at me, he had some wicked glint in his eyes; a terrible idea had graced his mind, I was sure. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” I muttered.
He patted my cheeks before grasping my hand. “We don’t have to go, but I won’t let the night go to waste.” He was already pulling me in the opposite way that we’d come from.
“Where are we going? Wait!” The theater got smaller and smaller in my vision.
He walked faster, the gas lamps lining the streets burned, people becoming fewer and fewer as he led me to the heart of Manhattan.
“Stop!” My voice was strained. I twisted my hand away from his. “Just let me . . . catch my breath.”
The tall gates of the park hung over us.
The iron bars and sharp hooks, to keep all intrusion out, were intimidating.
But it seemed as though the scarier the fortification, the grander the reward.
Even as we stood before the gates, you could hear the dribbling of running water within.
The frogs were chirping, the one place they could perform their song that felt like home, before us mere people moved in.
Each breeze carried the scent of cherry blossoms, tulips, and other botanicals yet to be discovered.
It was a temptation, and we were not supposed to indulge.
“Come.” Arkady stood under the gates, his hand extended.
“Come where?” I crossed my arms, glancing around us.
“It is a public park, you act as though we are stealing,” he joked, taking a step closer, grabbing the air between us to beckon me.
“It feels wrong.”
“The park is open for another two hours, we have time,” he assured me. “I promise.”
I looked down the sidewalk, then to my other side. Not a person in sight.
“Petronille,” he called to me adoringly.
I finally looked at him again, his hand still there for me.
“It’s time to practice letting go a little,” he said.
I raised my hand, hovering it over his palm.
It wasn’t like I was not going to take it.
No, I was weak to his charms. Arkady was the type who could talk the most sensible people into leaping straight off a wildwood cliff.
He had that air to him, the kind that made you feel as if you could fly.
An aura that promised adventure, even in small pieces.
That was the most exciting of all, the small adventures woven within the mundane, entirely accessible and never ending.
It was then I took his hand, and our adventure had just begun.
Flowering trees canopied over the walkway, the slightest breeze sending the wilting petals down on us. The path opened to tall hedges, blooming shrubbery, like witch hazel and aster.
It wasn’t much of a maze, but it did lead to a pond with a fountain.
The chittering of the frogs was louder now, their calls intermingling with a lone musician somewhere in the streets beyond the park.
My heels sank into the grass. I kicked off my shoes, the soft manicured lawn tickling against the soles.
Arkady laid his jacket neatly on the edge of the fountain, swiping off his suspenders, and he tugged his freshly pressed shirt over his head.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Going for a swim,” he said as if it were obvious. His arms slipped around me, holding me close. “And so are you.”
Before I could object, he picked me up, submerging us with one quick dip in the pond.
I gasped at the chill, blinking the water from my eyes and shoving his chest. “Bastard!” I hissed.
“Apologies, did I get Her Majesty’s hair wet?” He pulled me farther into the water.
“C-cold! Dear Lord, it’s cold,” I chattered, hugging myself as we waded.
The ripples of the water cascaded through the water lilies, the frogs silent from the sudden commotion. For one small moment, the city seemed quiet.
I caught my breath, wiping my hair back as it fell from its updo and hung in damp waves that stuck to my neck and face.
The dress was becoming heavy. I felt I was weighed by lead.
“Arkady, help me with something,” I beckoned him, reaching to the back of my neck, looking over my shoulder to see if he understood. His hands steadied on my shoulders before moving my mop of hair away from the dress clasps. The touch was warm against my skin, even the gentlest graze.
When the fabric loosened on my shoulders, I waded away, lowering my body fully under the surface to slip it off. The water made my underthings sheer, floating like ghosts under the murky water.
The moon rippled in the reflection, obscured as Arkady swam through it.
His hand touched my waist, then my hand. The newly bloomed water lilies bobbed in our wake, and as the water stilled, the night came alive again.
The frogs whistled and crickets chirped. The water was warmer now, or at least I was used to it. I was so entranced with my surroundings that I nearly forgot he was here, watching me this whole time.
He pulled me in close, a slow dance like swans circling.
Even in the dark, the green of his eyes looked as if they were grown right here within the garden. Nothing could compare to the softness they held now. I knew, in this moment, that the intimacy was no illusion of mine.
“We’ll get caught,” I whispered, but it wasn’t the first thing I wanted to say.
“Just let me steal a few more moments.” His forehead rested against mine.
“Thief,” I teased as we sank a little lower in the water to keep the breeze from chilling us. “At least steal something less fleeting.”
He let go of my waist and hand, cupping my face between his palms. His brow taut, his voice stern. “There is nothing of greater worth when the world is in my hands.”
My lip trembled. I could blame it on them turning blue from the cold night air.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning into his kiss.
His hands on my cheeks squeezed as he leaned back in the water. The grip was desperate, a grounding reminder that it was real. He backed us into the shore of the pond, turning and setting me down between the towering cardinal flowers.
The sharp breeze sent a tremor through my body, limbs bitten by cool air. My clothing stuck to me, dripping wet.
Arkady crawled over me, kissing my lips several times like he couldn’t resist stealing another before moving down to my neck, my chest, between my breasts, fingers pulling the wet fabric.
I glanced up to the tall stalks of the cardinal blossoms swaying against the dark sky. A shiver overtook me as I glanced around.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, “no one will find us here.” His breath hot against my skin, his hands smoothing up my calf, then over my knees, as he pushed up the soaked petticoat.
I didn’t tell him to stop, just watched, crossing my arms over my chest.
“No, that won’t do,” he said, pulling me up and reversing our positions.
“I’m cold, please.” My hands pressed against his chest, my shivering thighs straddling his hips.
“Let’s warm you up, then.” He leaned up, hooking his arms under my legs and yanking me up to sit right on his chest.
“Wait a minute!” I squeaked, my fists balled in my undergarments now, but even with my pleas, he maintained a smirk. I didn’t know how he expected me to act with his face nearly between my legs.
He nudged me forward again.
“What are you doing? You’ll suffocate!”