“No,” I cut in. God, she doesn’t understand. And she won’t. Unless I tell her. “It hasn’t. At least, not to me.”
Her mouth opens and she squeezes my hand. “What do you mean?”
“I, I can’t.” My chin trembles and I jerk away, training my gaze on my dress fabric as more tears slide down my cheeks. But if I give up now, any hope I have of bringing my daughter home disappears.
“You can, You can tell me anything.”
Another beat of agonizing silence, but neither of us move. Then, slowly, I nod. I owe her something. After all I’ve put her through, she should at least know the truth. Or, some of it, anyway. Sniffing, I dab my eyes with the balled paper towel. Her shoulders relax, then rise again as I speak. “When I said there was an accident with the dance company and it didn’t work out?”
“Mm-hmm.” Her features pinch.
“At first, everything was perfect. Better than perfect. I was living my dream. Traveling from country to country, city to city, performing with one of the most famous dance companies in the world. They had me doing ground work, so I wasn’t concerned.”
“And then?” She swallows, waiting.
I release a ragged breath. My gaze bores into hers as our chests rise and fall in tandem. “About three months in, I guess they heard me talking with some of the dancers backstage about the gymnastics classes I took when I was younger, because they offered me aerial, Lyn.” I laugh when her features widen in surprise.
“Seriously?”
“I thought they were insane. I mean, there was no way I could’ve handled that. Even if I hadn’t been pregnant, I still had flashbacks of the Wendy Barfling incident every time I looked at those ribbons.” I shake my head.
“The director and choreographer convinced me to give it a shot. ‘Just one class’, they said.” My tongue clicks and I can’t help the small spark of adrenaline zipping back through my veins. “Never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed I’d get so, enthralled by it. Five seconds in those things and I thought I would be ready to pass out.” I grin.
She nudges me. “But?”
I turn up my palms before letting them drop. “I can’t explain it. Being up there, I felt like I was on top of the world. Like nothing could touch me. There were no wires to jerk me around or harnesses to dig into me. Just me, the ribbons, and the music. It was thrilling, freeing, and incredibly addicting.”
“Wow.” She blinks.
“I know, crazy, right?”
She barks out a laugh. “I’ll say!”
“Everything was great until the Wednesday night show the second to last week of my run—” My breath comes in spurts again and my chin resumes its quivering. Mist clouds my vision. I slap a palm over my mouth to stifle a sob.
Her arms wrap around my frame and I rest my cheek on her shoulder. “Shh,” she mutters, running her hand along my back. “You don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.”
I start to nod, but then sigh and swipe my wrist across my cheeks. I have to get through this. My therapist always says facing it is the first step to recovery.
Of course, I’m pretty sure she meant the whole truth, but still. A step is a step, and the last thing I need is for another person in my life to turn against me. “Yes, I do,” I choke out in a harsh whisper.
She almost protests, but something makes her think the better of it. “Okay.”
“I, I fell.” My teeth chatter as I release a shuddering breath and comb my hair behind my left ear with quaking fingers. “I’m not sure what happened.” Lie. “Maybe the ribbons broke, or I was too heavy for them.” Of course I was. I was five months pregnant! I can’t believe I was ever selfish enough to risk Lyssa’s life for the sake of my own stupid, childish desires.
Addie’s arms come around me and I lean into them.
“All I know is one minute, I was up there, grunting my way through the top of the show and then—” I stop. My stomach roils. God, this was a horrible idea.
She flinches, then scoots closer and presses a soft kiss against my temple. It melts me from the inside, giving me the courage to forge ahead.
“There was cracking. Pain, so much pain.” I blink hard, my spine rigid. “The next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital, tethered to the bed by a back brace and covered in casts and scars.” Tears slip down my cheeks and my words are choked off by convulsive swallows. “After that . . . I can’t go up, Addie. But if I don’t . . .” I’ll lose my daughter and my career. Forever. I bury my face in her shoulder. “What if, what if I can’t perform again?”
“You will,” she replies, running a hand through my hair.
“H-how do you know?” I ask, sniffling.
She smiles. “Because what Catie Klarken wants, she gets. But only if you have the courage to try.”
I hold her at arm’s length so I can look her in the eyes. The comfort and confidence there is enough to make me believe her. Almost.
She takes my hands and nods at the door. “Come talk to Hellsworth with me. Please?”
The warmth spreading through my body morphs into a fiery dread. It sounds so simple when she says it. But I’ve tried so many times since the accident, and I can’t stomach standing on a high platform. Forget being suspended in midair. “I have tried. And failed. Numerous times. What makes now any different?”
Lyssa, answers my subconscious. This time, I have someone to fight for. My features steel as a renewed surge of courage rushes through me. Addie’s lopsided grin is the icing on the cake.
“Because this time,” she says, with a determined growl. Electricity skips down my spine as her eyes dance in the hazy light, “You have me.”
She holds out her hand. I take it after a second’s hesitation, and together, we march back into the restaurant.
Emily, our Elphaba, speaks her lines. Her voice echoes through Studio C, rising above the rhythmic tap of Neal, the music director, on the piano. As I step into the room and lean against the back wall, I slip my overstuffed binder under my arm and wave toward the piano. Neal’s intense gaze remains focused on Emily, and Catie sneaks a glance my way, flashing a tiny, if grateful, smile before snapping back to attention.
“Ms. Klarken!” Neal barks. “Focus!”
She jumps, spitting out her line as Emily stops talking. Phew. Thank God she knows this show like the back of her hand, or she would be dead. Hell, I’m still shocked Hellsworth didn’t fire us. Technically, I did keep my promise to get her to the bar before the end of the day—though we did have to race after Hellsworth once we left the bathroom. Either way, we can both pay our bills, and by the way Catie’s eyes cut back to me rather than keeping tabs on Neal’s incessant demands, she’s as grateful as I am. Maybe more.
As rehearsal continues, I know I have to wait for Neal to call a break. In the meantime, I free the ever-present black pen from my twisted braids behind my ears and scribble away on a notepad. Emily’s voice cracks the longer Neal continues to push. He’s trying to evoke emotion out of her, but if she’s needing vocal rest already. . .I shudder. The weeks are going to get more grueling the closer we get to opening.
When her voice gives out on the bridge in “Defying Gravity,” I brace myself for an earful. Neal, fuming, is two seconds away from throwing up his hands. I flinch. He may not be a hard-ass, but we all know to watch out for his temper.
“Emily, help me here. It’s a simple refrain.” He plunks out the notes and Emily’s face flames.
She gulps and meets his harsh gaze. “I’m sorry, Ne-sir.”
“You’re the lead!” he bellows. Grimacing, she nods as he runs a hand down the stubble on his face. “Stop marking and give me some power.”
Emily’s gaze drops. “I’ll try. My throat is—”
“We’re here to rehearse, not make excuses.” The room takes a collective breath, and Emily is still as stone.
“Sir, please, don’t—”
Neal grunts and waves a dismissive hand. “Twenty minutes, everyone.”
Finally.
Emi
ly is first through the door and the room clears out faster than I’ve ever seen it. I step up to the piano.
“May I help you?” Neal grumbles.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Gordmen.” I shove the binder toward him. “I came in to tell you, Ms. Helmsworth asked you to meet with her during the next break. She wants to double-check the lighting and music cues match up.”
Neal sighs, trailing his hands over the keys. “Very well. Tell her I’ll be there as soon as I figure out what to do with this blasted bridge. Emily can’t go this high.”
When he plays the notes a final time, I hum along. Beneath his beard, Neal’s lips twitch. “At least somebody around here knows what pitch is.”
“What?” I slap my hand over my mouth. “Oh, no, I was—”
“No, please, sing.” He plays, but I hold up my hands.
“I can’t. I’m the assistant director.”
Neal pffts. “Indeed, but I insist. It’ll be good for me to know there’s at least one person in this motley crew who can actually hold a note.”
I laugh uneasily, but give myself over when he starts again from the top of the bridge.
My eyes flutter closed. I picture myself huddled in the attic of the Emerald City Palace, guards banging on the door, the sound rattling my bones. Hellsworth’s binder is no longer a stupid file with papers spilling over the edge, but the spell book, known as the Grimmerie. The Wizard lied to me, has been lying to everyone, for years. He’s taken pleasure in torturing those who are different. I won’t let it go on any longer. Even if I have to fight him myself. The last notes burst through the studio, and when the piano keys’ vibrations fade into the walls, I lock gazes with Neal, cheeks warming and head swimming. He’s looking at me with a sort of stunned fascination.
Holy crap. What did I do?
“I’m sorry,” I sputter. My hands tremble and sweat dampens my shirt. I’m dead.
Before he says anything else, I scramble for the door. “Wait, Adaline,” Neal calls. I freeze. “That was wonderful.”
“What?” I ask, spinning to face him. That wasn’t wonderful, it was. . .
Natural, amazing, fun, liberating?
I shake those thoughts away.
Neal stands and crosses the room to squeeze my shoulder. “You slipped into Elphaba’s skin so effortlessly. Why didn’t you audition?”
My mouth goes through the floor. Outright praise is hard enough to come by in this business, but admitting to liking one performer over another is unheard-of. My shoes scrape the shining wood of the dance studio. “Too busy,” I mumble.
“Let me talk to Gina about making you a standby.”
I almost choke. “What? But, don’t you already have one? What was her name?” I tap my chin. “Dana?”
“Donna,” Neal corrects. “And she’s great. I suspect though, she shall soon become the principal, if Emily keeps singing at half-power.” I frown. “We would need a formal audition, of course, but if you’re interested. . .”
“Thank you, Neal. I’m flattered.” I shake my head. “But I can’t accept. It wouldn’t feel right. I’m sorry.”
Neal hums, but his features droop nonetheless. “Well, the offer is still on the table, should you change your mind.”
“I won’t.” No way in hell.
“Very well. Neal nods and brings the binder in front of him. “I better go find Gina before she summons a SWAT team.” He winks. “It was a pleasure listening to you, Adaline. I hope I get to hear you again.” And then he leaves the room and disappears in the opposite direction.
After everyone leaves the studio, I settle in the hallway near the door to run my lines. When Addie and Neal finish talking, we still have ten minutes before picking up act two. Maybe longer, if Helmsworth keeps him prisoner. I rub my temples, processing everything. Ten years ago, Addie would’ve been shot out of a cannon to have this chance. Something drastic must have happened since we’ve been out of each other’s lives.
Before convince myself otherwise, I stand and tuck my binder under my arm. If she’s going to throw this away, I’m not going to let it happen without a fight. Or at least an explanation.
When I swivel on my heel and stride into the studio, Addie’s eyes are still fixated on the piano.
“Okay, what was that about?”
Her hand flies to her heart and she whips around. I can’t help a tiny smirk twitching at my lips upon glimpsing her wide-eyed expression.
“Oh, it’s you!” She laughs a breathy laugh and her hand drops. “You scared me.”
I sink my weight into my hip and place my free hand on it. “I see.”
“How long have you been standing there?” Her brows pucker and she eyes my disheveled binder. I shrug and step up so we’re a few feet apart.
“Long enough to know you turned down Neal’s offer.”
She lets some hair fall in front of her face. “Oh. That.”
I scoff and roll my eyes. “Yes. That.” Walking to the piano, I set the binder on the lid. The hairs on my neck prick as her gaze follows me. Somehow, her feet remain pinned to the hardwood.
Hands free, I face her again. “Addie, why would you turn that down? Things like this don’t fall into our laps, you know. And Elphaba’s been your dream role since before I knew you!” I frown as she crosses her arms and looks down at the floor, rubbing her palms along her arms, though they have the heat cranked up to seventy-six to account for the autumn chill.
“I know, I know, okay?” She huffs and stomps her heel into the ground. “But I can’t right now. I’m too busy, being assistant director and all.”
“Bullshit,” I counter. Addie’s head snaps up. I’ve never been one to curse much, especially with Lyssa around.
No! Freak-out later. Right now, I have to help Addie.
“Um, what?” She does a double take and lets out a short laugh.
I stick out my tongue. “I said, bullshit. You of all people should know what that means.”
Her face scrunches up. “Of course I know what it means, Catherine. I didn’t expect it to come out of your mouth.”
I shrug. “It seemed appropriate.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, did it, now?”
“Yes,” I reply, half-teasing. “Because there’s no way in hell I’m letting you give up without a fight.”
Addie raises a hand to her lips. “Ooh, twice in one night. Must be some kind of record for you.”
“Ha, ha, very funny.” The joke simmers between us for a second before my expression sobers. “I’m serious, Lyn. Why did you say no?”
She gnaws at her lower lip, eyes flicking back and forth from the clock on the back wall to the door. I check the time. “Five more minutes.”
Addie cocks her head. “Hmm?”
“We’ve still got five minutes before the break is up. Assuming Hellsworth only wanted to ask him about light cues.”
She groans and I smirk, striding over to shut the door. Addie’s brows rise into her hairline.
“I’m not leaving here without an answer.”
Her eyes flicker and she clenches her jaw. “I told you.” She throws up her hands. “I’m too busy.”
“Pfft.” I take a seat on the piano bench, crossing my legs beneath me. “Addie.” I level our gazes. “You know I know you better.”
“Do you?” she scoffs, nostrils flaring as she leans against the piano. “We’ve barely spoken in ten years.” She slaps the piano top, startling me. “You don’t have the right to tell me what to do.”
For an instant, I have half a mind to refute, but snuff out the impulse. Instead, I hold up my hands and nod.
“You’re right. I don’t. No one can make you do anything you don’t want to.” She sniffs and leans into the arm resting on the piano. “But, Lyn,” I sigh and pull my hair back into a pony before letting it drop and tickle my shoulders. “You were never one to give up. Not when it came to something you wanted.”
Her head drops and her shoes scrape the floor. “Yeah, well, a lot has chan
ged since then.”
Leaning forward, I place my hand on the side of the piano. “Like what?”
With a sigh, her eyes find mine, their beautiful hazel hue clouded over by a glossy film. “For starters,” she says with a strained laugh that sends a pang through my chest. “I never graduated.”
I sit back; my lips pucker. “What?”
She blinks and takes a labored breath, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her black suit jacket. “After you left . . .” She shakes her head. “I couldn’t do it, Catie. You were my anchor and I’d let you down. I didn’t deserve success after that.” The air around us crackles with tension as her gaze drifts past me, settling on the autumn leaves dangling from the branches of a bulky dogwood outside the window. Every time I tried to perform, it made me think of you. And what a boneheaded ass I was for letting you go.”
“Addie.” My voice is hoarse. I cough to clear the lump from my throat. All this time and she still regrets it? I missed her every day on tour. There wasn’t one where something didn’t remind me of her. Make me wonder what she was doing. How many agents she’d wooed at the showcases our school hosted. If she got everything she ever wanted. Whether the breakup hurt her half as much as it did me. I’d always known she’d regret it one day. Or I’d hoped she would. But to know she’s been unhappy for so long, all because of me. It’s a large pill to swallow. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Her scoff is hollow. As her eyes bore into mine, I force my expression to stay neutral. My heart hammers in my chest at the thought of what might be coming.
“I was going to. I followed the tour from the day you left. About three months after it started, my grades slipped and the department threatened to remove me from the program, but I didn’t care. I wanted to see you.”
“Wait, you were failing?” In all our years of friendship, I never thought Adaline Davidson would flunk anything. School related, at least. “But what about your straight A streak? Nothing less than a ninety since kindergarten? Although,” a sly smirk slips onto my lips. “You did miss valedictorian.”
“That thing was rigged.” A spark of life flashes back into her eyes. “If Macy Donohue hadn’t gotten to retake the ACT so many times because her mom practically ran the damn school!”
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