Ofelia
T he day of the recital arrived.
All week I’d been anxious, waiting for my papá to strike me again; or worse, accuse me of Mario’s sorry state. But, just like he promised, Fabián made sure Mario didn’t say a word. I wasn’t sure if he’d given my papá an excuse for ‘ditching’ me at the gala, but it did put him in a somber mood. Which meant he barely spoke a word to me.
I preferred it that way.
I couldn’t look at him without feeling too many layers of emotions. Love, because he was my papá after all. Betrayal, anger, heartbreak. It all lived and breathed inside me, pushing me forward for days. I didn’t have to fake being sad around him, but I’d only hoped he couldn’t read the slight undertone of excitement that lived through me as well.
I was ready, both for the recital and to leave with Fabián for good.
It was crazy, the idea that I’d be running away with someone I hadn’t known that long. But time was irrelevant. We both knew we couldn’t stay. Not with everything our fathers had planned for us.
So tonight, I would get up on that stage and dance everything I’d been feeling. I would turn my tragedy into art and watch from the margins as it brought tears to people’s eyes.
Then, I would leave it all behind.
Needless to say I was nervous about more than just the recital.
My hands shook as I applied my makeup in my dressing room.
I went for a bold, dark look. It was dramatic, almost an eye mask slathered over painted white skin. The ends of my eyeliner curved like a cat’s, sliding over my temples. I tried to give my makeup a feather-like effect to match my black ensemble; a black leotard and tutu that fanned out around me. When I stood to my full height and turned, I resembled a raven.
Pride swelled in my chest.
Tonight was all about change.
I would dance, and Fabián would watch from the crowd. Afterwards, we would grab the bags we’d secretly stashed here at the theatre and flee.
I didn’t have full details. I didn’t know where we were going, but as long as I was with Fabián, I didn’t care.
“Ready?” Daniel’s breath tickled my ear.
I smiled at my friend, gripped with a sudden sadness. I would miss him and Paola most of all when I left. And as much as I wanted to weep and hug him a final time, it was imperative I didn’t give anything away. I didn’t want my papá finding out ahead of time, but I vowed as soon as Fabián and I were safe and settled, I’d call them.
“As I’ll ever be.”
The lights shone down on the stage and the music started, indicating it had begun.
“Quoth the raven, nevermore.” Daniel flashed that smile at me right before he danced out on stage and so it began.
Fabián wasn’t here.
I knew because my gaze strayed to his reserved seat several times only to find it empty.
My papá and mamá were in attendance, both of them staring up at me with stern expressions I ignored.
It wasn’t difficult to lose myself in the dance, to pour my soul into every move. To play the part of the torturer, teasing Daniel with his love lost. He chased after me on stage and I skirted, twirling away, teasing, mocking, and tragic.
It was everything we envisioned it would be. So perfectly sad, a culmination of madness and greatness.
When the first act ended and the curtain closed, Daniel and I were smiling widely, grasping tightly at one another in celebration while we tried to catch our breath.
We didn’t need to define the perfection of the moment. It just was.
Though it would have been better with Fabián there to witness it.
Worry gnawed at my gut as I slipped into my dressing room. A cursory glance at my phone showed no new calls or messages.
I bit down hard on my bottom lip. Why wasn’t Fabián here? He knew how much this moment meant to me. We had a plan. He wouldn’t have missed this for the world, unless...
My thoughts were abruptly cut off as the door to my dressing room swung open and my papá sauntered inside.
I didn’t like the look he wore. It was a mask that was far too content, and deep in his eyes I could just make out the malice. I’d been blind to it before, but it was so clear now.
Slowly, I placed my phone down. “Papá.” I stood up and turned to face him.
“Wonderful work, mija,” he praised. That, at least, sounded genuine. “You dance as beautifully as ever.”
“I–thank you.”
“Your dancing has served me well in my campaign to preserve the arts. This performance only helped our image.”
I swallowed. It was always about his image. It always had been.
“Once you resign from the academy, you can have a more active role. I’m sure your mother can find something for you to do.”
The lump in my throat only grew. Maybe a part of me held out hope that he’d be the same papá I’d always known and loved. The one who supported me in dance, but now I saw the truth. Me being the good girl he’d trained me to be, sending me off to the academy, was to help him. Not me. Knowing the truth didn’t make it any easier to swallow.
“Right.” The word was tight on my tongue.
He stepped forward and pressed his big hands against my slender shoulders. I felt swallowed by his presence and tried to control my expression, my breathing.
“You may not see it now, my princesita–”
My stomach soured at the word leaving his lips.
“–but this has been for the best. That criminal would have brought you nothing but heartbreak and despair. I saved you from that, and now, we won’t have to worry about him at all anymore.” He seemed to dust invisible lint off my shoulders, but I was focused on his words and the sinking feeling they caused my heart.
He stepped away, turning his back like the conversation was done and over with.
“What do you mean by that?” I demanded quietly.
He paused by the door for a small second. And then his next words shattered everything inside me.
“That criminal you were seeing died earlier tonight in an accident.” His head turned, and I could just make out the smirk on his lips. “A blessing, I think,” he said. “We won’t have to worry about him any longer.”
And he left me to pick up the pieces of my shattered soul alone.