The Dividing Line

by Victoria H. Smith

  Their lips parted. “Lacey,” Dara started. “Lacey, we’re sorry. We didn’t mean any harm.”

  Madame Duvall tapped her staff from the stage pit. “Let’s begin everyone. Lacey, we’ll start with your first number from the second act.”

  I shook my head at the girls. Forcing away a look of disgust, I left them to go to my mark on the stage. The lights went down, and the stage was silent.

  The stage lights flashed on and focused singly on me. The heat blasted in an intense wave that blazed against my skin that already sweltered from today’s drama. I drew in a subtle breath through my nose, waiting for the song to begin. The tune cued and pushed toward the lines of my number, but as I opened my mouth to start, a rush in my head caused me to close my lips. Suddenly, I couldn’t catch my breath and the room around me turned like someone was spinning me in a circle. I bent at the waist.

  “Lacey? Lacey!”

  I heard Jason’s voice before I saw his face. He grabbed me. He grabbed me because I was falling.

  That’s all I could remember.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Lacey

  “Mademoiselle Douglas? Mademoiselle Douglas, can you hear me?”

  The voice I didn’t recognize. I breathed in the air, a familiar scent of chamomile and rosemary touching my nose. Fluttering my eyes often, I saw a man. Just like his voice, I didn’t recognize him. He was older, grey haired, and wearing a stethoscope around his neck.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, my eyes flickering around, disoriented. “Who are you? Where am I?”

  He sat back, smiling behind his beard. “I’m Dr. Dufort, Lacey. You fainted. I was called in to assist.”

  “And you’re in my office, dear.”

  Madame Duvall’s voice came from my side. I turned my head. She was on her desk chair, sitting next to the chaise lounge I lay on. Of course. Chamomile and rosemary. I was in her office. Next to her was Jason, his dark eyes reading concern behind his long hair. I idly wondered if he carried me in here. He did catch me when I fell.

  His dimple revealed when he realized I was staring at him. “How do you feel, Lacey?”

  I drew in a breath, realizing I could finally catch it. “I think I’m okay. ”

  I attempted to push myself up, but the room tilted and my arms gave out from underneath me.

  “Lacey,” Madame Duvall and Jason’s alarmed voices sounded at the same time.

  The doctor helped me lay back, then handed me a covered mug. “Here, Lacey. Drink this.”

  I sipped, tasting orange juice. After a moment, the room went stationary again. I handed the doctor back the mug.

  He took it, facing Madame Duvall. “I believe this confirms what I thought, Madame Duvall.”

  She simply nodded, her face serious.

  Oh, God. What was wrong with me? “What’s going on? Am I okay?”

  “It’s nothing serious, Lacey, but it can be if nothing is done,” Madame Duvall said. “Dr. Dufort has diagnosed you with exhaustion.”

  I twitched at the prognosis. “Exhaustion?” That was actually a thing? I always thought it was something celebrities used as an excuse to cover up scandals like substance abuse.

  “Unfortunately yes, Lacey,” she continued. “Production feels you should take a few days off. We want you working, but only if you’re healthy. We’ve decided to continue rehearsals with an understudy until you’re back on your feet.”

  I could only sit in silence. They’d already decided. There was no point in arguing their decision.

  “Would you like me to get ahold of your emergency contact to come and get you?”

  Realizing he was no longer with me, I gazed away from my director. “No. It’s just me here.”

  “I can have my car come, Lacey,” came Jason’s voice from the side. “I can get you home.”

  *

  The press were outside my home. Not for Jason, but for me. The headline “American Opera Star Collapses” scrolling across the news that evening told me why. It was in French, but I knew what it said. I saw my face and Google translator quickly let me know.

  I got to watch the media from my window, rooted in front of my complex like I was an actual person of interest. Eventually, I lost interest in them and closed the curtains.

  I lay in my bed, resting like the doctor prescribed. The feeling of suffocation overwhelmed me. I felt trapped, boxed in with no way out. Seclusion was forced on me, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I received a few calls while I rested, thoughts of concern and Get well soons from my fellow cast members. I appreciated the gestures, but none of them seemed to help the loneliness the seclusion caused. I thought about calling my family with the details of my exhaustion, but frankly, I didn’t want to worry them. Margot would only spread the word if I alerted her, so she was out as well. The one person I wanted to talk to told me he needed space. So with that, I was left to my thoughts.

  And they raced severely.

  I knew the thing with Drake would be something we’d eventually get past. This part of the industry was just so new that we both had to do some adjusting to be okay. But the thing was, I didn’t want him to have to adjust. I didn’t want to have to adjust. Doing what I loved shouldn’t make me feel this way. Judged. Constantly under scrutiny. I was over it already. I was tired of it already.

  Life in Paris used to be so easy. So fun and fulfilling. Now, it seemed more and more like a continuous effort. Working myself to literally the point of exhaustion only to come home to a dark flat and evening phone conversation with my boyfriend. One I didn’t even allow myself to have lately since I was so tired. Rehearsals no longer brought the same joy. The same rush as before. And that was when I realized something.

  It was all quickly becoming… work.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Lacey

  “How did you sneak past the paparazzi?” I adjusted my robe, trying to keep it closed. I didn’t expect Jason be outside my door.

  He simply grinned. “I guess you can say I’ve learned a few tricks of the trade.”

  I eyed him.

  “Your landlord let me in the back.” He winked and I giggled. He held up his hands, presenting a couple linen bags. “I figured you might be low on groceries. May I come in?”

  Why he was here caused my eyes to widen. “That’s so nice of you. Of course. Come in. Come in.”

  He lowered his arms, and I waved him inside.

  I directed him into the kitchen where he set the bags down on my kitchen island. “You really didn’t have to do this, Jason. You’ve already gone out of your way.”

  The day I collapsed he had his driver come pick me up and had a member of his security team personally escort me up to my flat.

  “It’s fine, Lacey. Anything I can do to help. I feel partially responsible for what happened.” His strong brow wrinkled, uneasy.

  “Oh, no, Jason.” I waved my arms in protest. “You had nothing to do with my collapse. You saw how hard I was working myself. I think it was all just a long time coming.”

  Though he acknowledged that with a nod, he didn’t seem too convinced. I reached for a bag to help him put the food away, but he adamantly gestured me away.

  “I can figure this out,” he said. “You need to rest. Head to bed, and I can make you some soup.”

  My mind was taken by surprise as memories flashed from his words.

  “Just go to bed, Lace. I can handle everything.” Drake moved his tall frame around my kitchen, opening and closing various cabinets. He pulled a bowl out and placed it down on the kitchen island, grinning mischievously. “I’m about to make you a mean bowl of soup, but you can’t have it until you go to bed.”

  I wanted to giggle at the words, but I couldn’t because of my laryngitis. I had to miss a couple of shows already because of it. The final performance was coming, and soon, so Drake was taking care of me so I could be in tip-top shape for it. God, did I love this man I was with.

  Since I couldn’t talk to him, I flipped my mini notep
ad that acted as communication to a new page where I wrote: Mean bowl of soup, huh? Should I be scared?

  He pouted his cute plump lip. “No trust? Where is the love?”

  I flipped my page and scribbled: It will be nonexistent if you mess up my kitchen.

  He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I got my girl.”

  He winked, tipping my chin with a single finger. Turning his back, he messed around in the kitchen. I knew he told me to go to bed, but I stayed, watching him.

  His brow wrinkled in concentration as he attempted to open a can of Campbell’s soup with a handheld can opener. His tongue poked out, and when he got the can open, the little fist pump he did melted my heart it was so adorable. He turned with the can, frowning at the sight of me spying on him.

  “Are you still here?” Though he eyed me, he smiled that heartbreaker smile that always got me. The one that complemented his dark, amber-toned eyes.

  “Go to bed, Lace,” he said. “I got everything.”

  “Lacey?”

  I blinked, gazing up at Jason who stared at me curiously.

  He tilted his head, smiling. It wasn’t the heartbreaker one, though. It wasn’t the smile of the man I loved, and my heart fell into sadness.

  “You can go to bed,” Jason continued, unaware of the emotions working their way through me. “I’ll bring the soup in to you when it’s done.”

  I pushed myself off the barstool, feeling really silly for daydreaming. “Um, thanks.”

  I dipped my head, scurrying into my bedroom. The destination was my bed, but I ended up heading out to my balcony, the one that had the perfect view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

  I sat on my lounger, hugging my knees as I stared ahead. The world around me was so beautiful, so bright and full of life. Despite that, I felt empty. Like my world was two seconds away from tilting off its axis, and I didn’t understand.

  “Lacey?”

  I sniffed, and I realized I was crying. I wiped my eyes, and Jason came out onto the balcony. I wondered how long I had been out here, in tears by myself.

  “What are you doing out here, Lacey?” Jason got in front of me and his mouth lowered into a frown at the sight of me. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m sorry.” Hiding my face, I stood quickly. I attempted to go back inside, but Jason didn’t let me. Taking my hand, he made me sit. Once I did, he went back inside and returned with a box of tissues.

  I blew my nose, feeling more embarrassed than I had in the kitchen. “I’m so sorry. I really hate crying.”

  He sat next to me, shaking his head. “It’s fine. May I ask what’s wrong?”

  The truth was, I didn’t know the answer myself. I balled up the tissue, staring down at it. “Have you ever just woken up one day and felt like you’ve lost focus of your life? Like maybe the way things are aren’t the way they’re supposed to be?”

  He tilted his head at that, studying my eyes. “You’re questioning what you’ve let your life become.”

  “I am, Jason, and it scares the hell out of me. Life here is what I always wanted. What I always dreamed. But now, I’m not sure if it’s right for me. Like it’s what I should be doing. This place used to feel so different when I got here last year. Rehearsals used to be fun and unpressured. Now, everything feels different.”

  He crossed his legs, thinking about that. “So what’s changed?”

  So many things had. The show we started when I arrived was in its infancy, a premiere opera making its debut with only life ahead of it. Now we were headed on a multi-city, international tour. I was just a simple girl from Chicago who got her lucky break. Now I had to lead the production across an entire continent. It felt like the whole thing had almost become bigger than me. Then there was Jason, a rising star who’d come to join the cast. He was so great, but there was so much pressure that came with acting alongside him. He also represented a potential future. A life filled with celebrity, flashing lights and paparazzi. It was a life I never really desired and still don’t. And finally, there was the most important change. The biggest one of them all.

  Drake’s move back to Chicago.

  When he was here, this life just felt different. More… complete. Now that he wasn’t with me, there was emptiness, a sudden gap that presented itself. Perhaps this place was made so special because Drake was here. He’s what capped this life off. The cherry on top of a perfect sundae.

  In an ideal world, I would have him and it all. I’d have a life performing, doing what I loved without the backlashes of the industry or the consequences of celebrity. Then, at the end of the day, I could look forward to time spent with the most important person in my life. The person that made it all worth it.

  I wished I could have it all. I gazed up at Jason. “Have you ever wanted something so badly it just hurts?”

  With my words, he studied my eyes. In his dark pools, there was a depth, a warmth as he stared at me. I caught him staring at me this way before. Like he was lost in my eyes.

  “Every day,” he said, his lips lifting in a small smile.

  His answer and the way he stared at me had me questioning our relationship. Had me worrying that maybe our short friendship meant more to him than it did to me. Betsy and Dara said they felt vibes between us. Maybe the ones they felt just weren’t from my end.

  I touched his hand, preparing to turn him down. “Jason—”

  “I miss my boyfriend terribly.”

  I sat up, trying not to look shell-shocked. Did he say…? “Your boyfriend, Jason?”

  “Yes.” He slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Here’s a picture of him here.”

  He showed me the image, and I couldn’t help but nod in approval. Jason had himself a nice chocolate-skinned brother. The man was spinning over a turntable, grinning and pointing at the camera.

  “He’s cute,” I said, slightly laughing at the turn of events. I never would have thought things would go this way, but it definitely wasn’t a bad thing.

  Jason beamed proudly at the screen before returning his phone to his pocket. “Thanks. He’s a D.J. Travels a lot just like me, but we make it work.”

  That made me happy to hear. That two people that were so busy still managed to hold on to each other and what they had.

  “You remind me so much of him. That same passion. That same spirit.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, not feeling worthy of his comparison. “I don’t seem to have much of either of those things these days.”

  “Oh, I think you do. But I think maybe what drives it just isn’t here. If things have changed for you here, Lacey, perhaps you should seek out where your heart truly lies. Or should I say with whom.”

  My lips parted. “How did you know?”

  He smiled. “I’ve spent quite a bit of time with you lately, Lacey, and I’ve seen your look a thousand times. I’ve been doing this for quite a while you know.”

  Sighing, I studied the Eiffel Tower in the distance. “But what about the show? The tour?” I faced him. “I don’t want to let Madame Duvall down. Or you and the rest of the cast.”

  He laughed. “You have at least five understudies who are quite literally waiting for you to break a leg.

  He actually cracked a full smile out of me, and I couldn’t even remember how long had it been since I’d done that.

  “I think we can manage around here without you. We all want you healthy, both physically and mentally, and I believe leaving will do both of those things for you.”

  I found myself hugging him, the man that had become my friend in such a short amount of time. He really was my friend. He truly was, so I decided to let him know.

  “Thank you for being such a great friend to me,” I whispered, holding him warmly.

  When he pulled away, he held my hands. “Thank you for being mine.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Drake

  “Hey. I brought what you asked for.” Adele stood from the table in the small café I asked her to meet me at. She held
a manila folder in her little hands. The folder contained information that could change my life with a simple break of the seal.

  And she didn’t look happy at all.

  “Try not to be so overjoyed about that,” I said, bringing the kid into my arms for a hug. That’s what she was and would always be to me. My kid sister. Sixteen years of age, a pair of heels, and a mini skirt would never change that. At least her chest wasn’t out on display tonight, so I could deal.

  “That’s because I’m not happy about it or that you asked me to help you.” She pouted her glossed lips, revealing her youth. “This will hurt mom, Drake, and you know it. You should talk to her about this.”

  Sighing, I gestured for her to take a seat with me at the table. “That’s the thing, Adele. This isn’t about mom. It’s about me. Looking for my birth mother is something I need to do for myself. I’m sorry if that will hurt mom, but this just isn’t about her.”

  “It won’t hurt her that you’re seeking your birth mother. It will hurt her that you’re not letting her be a part of it.”

  I stared at the table, restlessly playing with the table’s napkin holder.

  “You didn’t see how she was after you left, Drake. How depressed she got. How sad she was all the time. Especially now that she knows you’re back and still not seeking her out. If you do something so important like this without her it will… It will shatter her.”

  She was right. I didn’t know how my leaving affected my mom. I never read her emails. Deleted all her phone messages. And what’s truly sad was at the time, I was so angry I wanted to hear what Adele was telling me. I wanted to hear that my mom was in pain. That she’d suffered and felt guilt after what she did to me last year. But now that I heard the information, I had to admit it didn’t feel so great.