Chapter 38 1964
It’s my wedding day. And I feel a joy so strong I know it’s enough to ward off the careless future. Today, only the sun will burn.
And tonight, desire will.
Soon, people start knocking on my door. Somehow, word has gotten out.
Judith Crown arrives first. She gives me a tiara. “For Princess Aria,” she says.
“Tell me those are rhinestones,” I say, gawping at myself in the mirror.
“Aria.” She straightens the glove over which she’s wearing sapphire and diamond knuckle-dusters. “Since when have you known me to consort with rhinestones?”
Augusta Hepworth is next, bringing with her three houseboys carrying a dinner set for twelve. “There’s nothing better than having a few friends around for a meal,” she says.
Nathalie arrives with a cocktail set, Maisie with napkins she’s embroidered with my initials and Theo’s.
Paul Rydell, the writer with a penchant for aiming his rifle at the showgirl, turns up with a replica of his muse-nemesis.
Isaiah and Jupiter appear with a beautiful leather-covered notebook and fountain pen that makes me cry so hard I can’t even say thank you.
Even Chester Meringue pays me a visit, making me a gift of his juggling balls.
“Life’s a juggle, Aria,” he says. “You should always keep a few tricks up your sleeve.” He plucks a red rose out from behind my ear. “Thanks for always stopping to talk to a fellow who was on his way down rather than up.”
I’m blubbering when Calliope arrives.
“You came,” I sob.
“Of course,” she says.
She orders me to lie down while she calls Schwab’s for tea bags and Coke.
“What kind of cocktail are you going to make with that?”
She laughs. “One that will restore you to your natural beauty.”
Five minutes later, I’m on the bed alternating between applying cold Coke cans and wet tea bags to my eyes. We don’t mention the argument we had. Like true sisters, we fight and forget.
I know it wasn’t Calliope who sent me the tarot Fool.
When she’s satisfied that my eyes look less puffy, she produces a divine set of pale pink lingerie. I put it on without bothering to turn around because we’re well past the point of hiding anything from each other. Then we start to transform Aria Jones into a bride.
As Calliope wields her tools I ask, “Do you think she’ll come?”
“Flitter won’t miss your wedding. Not for anything.”
I haven’t seen Flitter since she stormed out. I don’t know how her audition went. Nor Calliope’s. “How did it go?” I ask.
“Matty said I was the best. The part’s mine.” Her voice is flat.
She retrieves her purse, takes out a yellow bottle, and swallows two pills.
Then she sits on the bed, elbows on knees, chin propped on her hands.
I can see us both in the mirror, my reflection larger because I’m closer to the glass.
My face is glowing with anticipation and expertly applied rouge.
Calliope’s isn’t that of a woman who just got what she wanted.
“Should we celebrate?” I ask her.
“Should we?” she returns.
“I’m happy,” I tell her. “Theo makes me so happy.”
“Acting makes me happy,” she says. “I never used to think about the acting, just the immortality. But I quite like the process too.” She swallows another pill. “You know you can just be in love with Win. You don’t have to marry him.”
“But why shouldn’t I?”
There we are in the mirror, one woman in pink lingerie, one in a blue dress. One with brown hair, one with blonde. One known by only a handful of people, one known by many. Our faces look like question marks.
Calliope turns her back to the mirror. “I think I’d prefer to be the madwoman, not the orphan.”
“But she’s the one who burns it all down.”
“Does she though? The orphan never leaps. Whereas the madwoman—she leaps. Besides, shouldn’t we be more scared of the man who made the woman mad than of the woman herself?”
A knock interrupts before I can tell Calliope that she’s being the madwoman.
Theo’s voice calls, “Can I come in?”
“Sure,” I say because I’m not wearing my dress, so it isn’t bad luck if he sees me. And just look at my face in the mirror, look at my smile. Look at the way my hands slide into his hair, look at the way we kiss.
Oh, look at the way we kiss.
“I love you,” we both say at the very same time and then we laugh.
Theo and I together—we are a night and a star, a match and a flame, a sea and the deep water within.
And we are getting married.