My nerves for this opening night are much worse than the first. I keep walking to the exit doors closest to the stage, peering in at the seats to see if my parents have come.
I get two warnings from security that the dancers are not allowed to be seen by the crowd. This is Dmitri’s rule, I know, a superstition about bad luck.
The second time, I head on back, relying on texts from Blitz. He’s incognito in a Derby hat, trying not to be spotted by my family if they do come.
I text him every thirty seconds, and he’s good about responding back until about fifteen minutes before the curtain call. I wonder if something has happened, and write him again and again.
Then someone taps me on the shoulder. “You’re wanted in the hall,” Bluebird says. I try to think of him as Dominic now that I know his name, but still, my mind goes to Bluebird first.
I follow him out of the principals dressing room.
And I see Mindy!
“You’re here!” I say. “Did your parents figure it out?”
“They apparently knew weeks ago,” she says. “But we came anyway.” She looks so grown up in a sparkly black dress. Her light brown hair looks sun-kissed, and she’s tan.
“How is Cowboy?”
“Good!” she says. “I still haven’t told my parents about him. But we get to do rides together at the barn.”
“How did you get back here?” I ask.
“Blitz brought me!”
We both turn to look for him, but he’s down the hall and just gives a little wave.
Now that the thrill of seeing her has calmed a bit, I have to ask, “Did my parents use their tickets? They are close to you.”
Mindy frowns. “They weren’t there when I left. We don’t really talk at church, so I don’t know anything.”
I nod. “It’s okay. I’m so glad you could make it.”
The lights dim, then brighten.
“Oh,” I say, “you need to get back!”
“I can’t wait to see you up there!” she says, hurrying back to Blitz. “I’ll see you after?”
“Yes, let Blitz find you again!” I wave as he takes her down the hall and back through to the seating.
It’s so good to see her, as if I’ve reconnected a missing piece of myself.
“Places!” Ivana calls. “Curtain in five!”
I head back to the dressing room to wait until closer to my entrance to go backstage. I need to warm up a little more. I want to be perfect tonight. If not for my parents, at least for Mindy and her family. The only guests of my own I’ve had this whole tour were Blitz’s family and Ted.
The music begins as I stand at the small barre in the back of the dressing room and go through a few quick exercises. I missed much of the group warm-up earlier due to my anxiety about checking the seats.
The fairies finish their dances and I hurry to the backstage area to join my minions. I’m about to go on.
There’s really no way during this intense scene to easily look out, and the lights are so harsh, I couldn’t make anything out anyway.
But as my pyrotechnics FLASH FLASH, I try to check the middle of the third row, where my family should be. I don’t see a bunch of empty seats.
So maybe?
This energizes me, and I’m quite positive my curse is the most vehement and diabolical of all the performances I’ve done, even for the DVD filming. I picture Andy clapping and laughing at his evil sister, and it’s even more special.
Unlike many of the roles, Carabosse doesn’t get an opportunity to bow after any of the dances, because the acting is too important. When I first saw the other characters do it, I asked Franco about it. He told me that virtually none of the modern ballets allowed Carabosse to bow, as it would take away from her evil character.
I wish I had one, though, so I could take a good hard look at the seats.
The ballet continues without issue through the prologue and all three acts. I text Blitz twice during intermissions, but I don’t hear back. When we come out for our bows, I look out as best I can.
There is definitely not a group of empty seats, but I can’t make out anything but movement in the glare of the lights shining directly at us. Sometimes the ushers fill in empty seats if audience members don’t show up by intermission. I just don’t know!
I race back to the dressing room to snatch up my phone. I swear I’m going to call Blitz myself when he finally writes me back. “I’m coming.”
Who with?
He doesn’t want to say. I don’t know why.
I strip out of my costume as fast as possible and put on my most demure outfit, a dark blue dress with a belted waist and miles of swinging skirt. A cashmere shrug covers my shoulders, and I look like something out of the fifties in it.
Dominika senses my stress and stands back to let the makeup artist remove the black blocks from my face. I tell her to keep my face plain and clean.
I take deep breaths as I head out into the hall. I see Blitz immediately in his funny hat. Then Mindy and her parents. And her little brother Owen, jostling with another boy.
Andy.
Oh my God.
It’s Andy.
I let out a cry and run for him.
He sees me and heads my way, followed by the others.
I can’t see anybody but him as I drop to my knees and envelop him in a hug. I’m crying, huge hot tears flowing down my face.
“Stop kissing me, Livia!” he says, wiping his cheeks. “You’re supposed to be the bad guy!”
This makes everyone laugh.
I look up then, and my mother is there, looking uncertain in a long green dress. She seems older. It’s been ten months since I have last spoken to her.
“Hello, Livia,” she says.
I look behind her for my father, expecting his big frame and bigger scowl.
But he isn’t there. Just Mindy’s parents, looking pleased and proud. And Mindy, her hands clasped together, eyes shining.
I stand up. “You made it,” I say.
She nods. “I only decided this morning.” She glances around. “Your father wouldn’t come. But I left anyway. I wanted to see.”
Andy jumps up and down. “Where are the crows? I want to see them. Are there real people under there?”
“We can go see the costumes,” I say to him.
Mindy comes forward to take his hand. “I’ll take the boys there,” she says. “Can Blitz show us the way?”
Blitz leads them down the hall. Mindy’s parents murmur their congratulations on the show and move on.
And it’s just me and my mom.
“You looked lovely up there,” she says. “I was very proud.”
I’m feeling everything at once. Happiness that she is here. Anger that my dad is not. So I can’t help but say, “For a dirty whore?”
Mom’s lips purse tightly. “He’s a difficult man,” she says. “I know it. I wonder sometimes if I should stay. But then where would he be without me? Where would I be without him?”
“I could buy you a house,” I say. “Help you.”
She nods. “I’m sure you could.” She reaches out to touch my arm, her fingers trailing down the softness of the cashmere shrug. “You look so different. So sure of yourself. I’m glad.”
I want to lash out, to tell her that it’s despite them, not because of them. But she’s here, and that’s what I want. And my father is left out, alone back in San Antonio stewing in the anger that has poisoned him.
“I’m doing fine,” I say. “I’m happy.”
“I can see that.” She looks behind her at the door to the dressing room where the others went. “I’d love to see the costumes too. And meet this man of yours.”
So we go in where Andy and Owen are petting the feathers on the crow costumes. Two of the dancers are there, showing them how the beaks go on their heads.
Dominika is finishing with the makeup artist and looks regal in a royal blue evening gown. She nods at us as she passes, but I don’t stop her for introductions. This is too hard already.
“Was that Aurora?” Mindy asks.
“Yes, she was a very famous ballerina in Russia,” I say.
Everybody looks starstruck, as if Blitz isn’t standing right behind us, ten thousand times more famous. But I get it. The ballet makes you feel this way, as if the dancers onstage made magic before your eyes.
Blitz steps forward then and puts his arm around me. “I met the lovely Wallers already,” he says. “I assume this is your mother?”
I take in a deep breath. “Yes. Mom, this is Blitz. I still call him that, but his real name is Benjamin.”
Mom extends her hand. “Hello, Benjamin. I’m Dorothy Mason.”
Their shake is formal, but it’s a start.
I glance up at Blitz. He’s pleased with how everything is going, although I know he’ll wonder why my father didn’t come. Or maybe it’s obvious. My father can’t get past what’s happened. Something in him just won’t change, won’t adjust, won’t accept.
But as we move around the dressing room, then explore the other rooms and even sneak onto the stage, it’s clear that whatever fear or anger or downright meanness has a hold on my dad, it is not part of my mother or my brother.
We all have a very late dinner together at a twenty-four-hour diner, squeezing into Blitz’s limo while the boys start to crash. Ted stays out in the car with them asleep on the seats while we eat and Mom talks about Andy and church and the small events of their quiet life.
I hold Blitz’s hand and feel wonder that I’m here. That they’re here. That he’s here. It’s almost perfect. So close. My father doesn’t matter.
But someone else does. And as I picture her, the way I last saw her, my heart crumbles a little on the edges.
I’ll have to make do with what I’ve got.