Prima Donna: A Novel

by Megan Chance

  I followed her to the step, to the door. It wasn't until we were inside that I could draw a breath, but I couldn't relax. He was still all around me, his presence like a brand that marked me. I smelled the smoke from his cigarette in my hair, I felt his touch on my arm. But mostly I heard his words like a relentless echo: "You could have it all back. You could have everything." And that was worse, because their temptation mocked me; they threw the truth into my face, and I knew it was not just him I had to be afraid of--it was myself.

  From the Journal of Sabine Conrad

  JANUARY 16, 1877--Last night I went with Alain to Mrs. Stevens's New Year's soiree. He is the dinner guest du jour--how the society ladies love all things Continental, and a Frenchman most of all! They were quite jealous of me for commanding so much of his attention. It is true; he is very ardent and considerate, and though I have grown weary of these parties, where each hostess tries to outdo the other with their ostentation, Alain made it all seem amusing. He told me that Mrs. Parr looked like a horse decked out for the New York Circus, and that the cloud of perfume hovering about Mrs. Williams barely disguised the stink of her constant flatulence, and then he whispered in my ear that the orchids looked very like a woman's cunny, and he never came near one without the urge to bury his face in it. As obscene as it was, it made me laugh and choke on my champagne. He says things that others are thinking but don't dare to voice, and he is always surprising me.

  He is also an excellent dancer, and he held me very close during the waltz, planting a secret kiss beneath my ear when no one was looking, and asked when I was going to leave my guard and come away with him, and I laughed and told him I was ready to go to France whenever he was, and had he any plans for when that might be?

  He didn't answer me; he never does. He only says he is not quite ready yet ... he's looking for a mezzo now. But when I teased him that I was beginning to despair that I shall ever see Paris, he swept me off the dance floor and pulled me down the hall to an empty parlor, and he closed the doors behind us so we were in darkness. Then his hands were all over me, and his mouth too, and I let him unbutton my gown and lift my breasts from my corset and bury his face between them. I even helped him. All I could think was how much Gideon says we need the money Paris will bring us, and how much I want to be there. And I like Alain very much and find him handsome, so it was not unpleasant.

  Then I heard a sound--a maid passing in the hallway who could no doubt hear us, because she made a great commotion with a tray of glasses, and suddenly I thought of the whore on my birthday and Leonard Jerome and McAlester's pale white body thrusting against mine and I was confused and repulsed. I was afraid of myself.

  So I pushed Alain away and told him I could not.

  He seemed very offended. When I tried to soothe him, he said he wondered if I was the prima donna he needed after all and then he stalked away. So there I was, in a gown half unbuttoned and falling open, and no one there to do it up for me, and I could not go back out to the party that way. It took me some time of peeking out the door before I saw another maid come down the hallway and asked her to restore me. It was humiliating.

  When I went back to the party, I could not find Alain anywhere. Mr. Stevens said he had seen him leave. Mr. Parr offered me his carriage home, which was exceedingly kind.

  Gideon was in his room, going over receipts, no matter that it was very late, and he looked tired and disheveled and there were great circles beneath his eyes. My heart hurt to see him so, but still ... I did not want to come near him suddenly. I was afraid that he would touch me, though I wanted that too. I wanted him to kiss every part of me that Alain had touched, to erase him, and yet I knew if he did I would forget myself, and I did not want that either.

  He asked me if I had enjoyed the ball and said that by this time next year we would be in Europe, and I would be charming the people of Italy and Germany and England too.

  That confusion I'd felt with Alain came over me again. Gideon motioned for me to come sit upon his lap, and when I hesitated he frowned and asked what troubled me. I could not tell him--how could I explain the things I'd been thinking? I do not even understand them myself.

  I could not think of an excuse not to go to him, and there was a part of me too that said to just go, that it was easier to forget myself and not think too hard. So I sat on his lap and he kissed me and said how magnificent I was.

  Europe is so close--it is what I have wished for; it is what Barret wanted for me. I am already as high as I can climb in America. Should I just stay here and wait for other singers to supplant me? Gideon is right; Europe is my future.

  Now I am nervous that I have offended Alain past bearing. Tomorrow, I shall write him a note to apologize.

  JANUARY 17, 1877--Alain has answered my note with a very lovely one of his own, apologizing for his "boorish behavior," and saying that I am sometimes so lovely it is all he can do to keep his distance. So I am forgiven. Thank God.

  FEBRUARY 8, 1877--Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, and the end of the season, so there will now be fewer parties and balls until the summer, when everyone goes to Newport. I was invited to the ball at the Vanderbilts', which will be the last of the season, but I have declined to go, and Gideon has sent a note to Alain saying I have a fever and must rest. It will do Alain good to miss me tonight; I think he is becoming far too certain of me and he is not as attentive as formerly.

  Also, I admit here and nowhere else: I am relieved to not have to be charming for a few hours. I so rarely have an evening to myself that I am quite looking forward to it.

  * * *

  N.B. I have asked Gideon to take me to dinner. I cannot bear my thoughts when I am alone. I cannot bear to write them.

  MARCH 5, 1877--This morning I woke early, and Gideon was still sound asleep beside me, and he looked so beautiful in the morning light that I could not keep from touching him. I felt when he started awake, but he didn't move and just lay there and let me run my fingers down his chest. Then I pressed my hand flat over his heart and he took my fingers in his and kissed the very center of my palm, and I shivered at how pleasing it was.

  Then he whispered that Alain had told him he'd found the mezzo he was looking for: some woman from Chicago whom Gideon had never heard of, but he told me I was still Alain's favorite.

  There came a great lump into my stomach and I thought I might cry, and when he rolled me beneath him I held him so close he very nearly could not withdraw in time, and still I could not let go. Finally he pried my hands from around his neck, laughing at me until he saw my tears. He asked me what was wrong and I said nothing, and then he frowned and made to get out of bed. I grabbed him back and begged him to stay with me just a little longer. He was confused, I know, but he obliged. He cradled me in his arms, and I buried my face in his shoulder. Then he asked very, very quietly if Alain had done something to offend me, and if I wanted to give up Paris. And I was filled with the most horrible panic. I said no--I think I almost screamed it--and his arms tightened about me and he sighed and said in that case I shouldn't worry. He would make certain we got there, and there was a look in his eyes that made me say I would do what I could to keep Alain's interest, and I doubted any little mezzo from Chicago could compete with me.

  MARCH 24, 1877--Today I went to the theater to practice, except that Gideon was not there as we'd agreed. He'd sent a man to say he was running late, and I was to wait for him. So I wandered the wings, and I was walking past one of the practice rooms when I heard voices inside--two singers from the chorus, I think, though I didn't recognize them. The door was open, and they were talking about someone, and I stopped and stayed out of sight because they were speaking quietly, and it was so obviously gossip, and I was bored. Then one of them said, "Everyone knows how she did it. It's all the talk." And the other one answered, "Perhaps. But her voice doesn't hurt either--I've never heard its like." And then the one said something about how liaisons with people like Jerome and Belmont could do more for a career than talent, and she wished she had
thought of fucking a European impresario, and her friend answered that it didn't seem to be working. "She's not in Paris, after all," and the other said, "Oh, she'll work it to her advantage soon enough. See if she doesn't. Some people will do anything to get what they want," and they laughed and I realized they were talking about me.

  I felt sick to my stomach, and I told myself to walk away, but I couldn't. Because then the one said, "Well, I'd give just about anything for a manager like Gideon Price," and the other said, "I'd give anything to know what goes on between the two of them. It's strange, don't you think? The way she jumps to do his bidding?" and the one snickered and said, "My guess is she's jumping on something else of his as well."

  That was when I made myself walk away. I nearly ran past the open door and to the exit. I wasn't even thinking--all I wanted was to get away from their talk and the horrible way it made me feel, because it was true, all of it, and that was the worst thing. I was near tears, and the gossip was ringing in my ears and as I went outside into the sunlight I remembered Willa standing in my hotel room, telling me what they called me in Kleindeutschland.

  I hardly saw anyone or anything. I didn't know where I was going and I didn't care. All I wanted was to get the voices out of my head. Then suddenly a drover called out to me to watch out, and I looked up to see I was blocks from the theater, and there were peddlers in the street pushing their carts and wagons blocking the road and I realized I was near Washington Market.

  I saw all those stalls and all the things for sale and for a moment I wanted just to be the Sabine Conrad who'd gone with Mama every week to the market, the girl who sang in the church choir and in the Volksstadt. I had not been to the market for so long, and it seemed so far away from everything, and that's what I wanted, though it was stupid, I know. So I walked the market, and for a few minutes I was my old self, and then it all changed. I was at a stall selling oranges from Cuba and they were so bright and sunny-looking that they made my mouth water. The peddler recognized me and of course he knew nothing of the gossip. He only knew I was the famous Sabine Conrad. He chose the very best for me and said, "You do me a great honor, Miss Conrad," and pressed the bag into my hands and refused my coin. And I was very glad I was not the old Sabine Conrad after all. Then I realized a crowd had come around me so tightly I could not move. They were trying to touch me and pushing to get to me. Men and women and children, and I heard my name on their lips so it was a constant whisper that sounded like the breeze coming off the Battery. Then a little girl, pushed by her mother, reached up to touch the ruffle of my gown, and I smiled at her, though I was feeling a little nervous at how neatly I was trapped, and then her mother called, "Hurry now, Jenny!" and the child grabbed one of the buttons that went in a line up my sleeve and jerked so it came loose in her hand. She yelled, "I got it, Mama! I got it!" and before I could do anything, she vanished into the crowd.

  After that it became quite uncontrollable. Someone tore the ruffle from my skirt, and someone else took the feather from my hat. They had me backed into the peddler's stall, and I dropped the bag of oranges. They went rolling, and everyone raced after them as if they were golden coins. I am quite used to such things, but usually Gideon is there to direct and protect me, and I missed him very much and was frightened. Some of the people were wild-eyed as if they might tear me apart.

  The peddler came in front of me with a broom and threatened to beat them all and call the police if they did not leave me alone, and finally they did, though they did not dissipate completely, and I hired the peddler's son, who was a large, strapping boy, to walk me home. I had been trapped there for more than an hour.

  I stepped into the lobby, and the first thing I saw were the two police watchmen who are sometimes there, and Gideon with them looking frantic. When he saw me, he hurried over and I saw him take in my disheveled state and he turned to the peddler's son and asked if there were any reason he should not directly turn him over to the police.

  It took me some time to calm Gideon and explain. He was furious. He called me foolish, and told me I was not to do such a thing again, and how was he to protect me against my own nature? And all I could think was what that nature had brought me. All I could hear was the talk of those two stupid girls saying that I jumped to do his bidding, and I stood in that lobby and listened to him chastise me and knew how true it was and how it will always be that way, because I want so much and Gideon knows how to get it, and I love him so it's like a disease in my soul and I grow more and more sick with it every day.

  APRIL 2, 1877--I hear Barret's voice all the time now--sometimes it's so real and loud that I turn, expecting to see him, hoping I don't, because I don't want to see the disappointment on his face. I know what he would say; he says it in my head all the time. "This isn't who you are, Bina. He makes you forget yourself." And then he whispers, "You must leave him before he destroys you."

  But I can't leave him. I don't want to. I don't. Without him, what would I do? Where would I go? He has made everything possible. He created Sabine Conrad. Everything I love has come from him: the singing, the fame, the money. He promised me he would make my dreams come true, and he has. They don't exist without him. I would not exist. I'm afraid if I were to leave everything behind there would be nothing left of me.

  APRIL 6, 1877--Yesterday was the Grand Easter Charity Ball given at the Academy, and as I'd told Mrs. Murray several weeks ago that I would lend my name to such an attractive festival for children (and of course, because August Belmont, who is treasurer, had kindly suggested to her I might), I went and made myself very agreeable.

  It was very nice, with a Carnival and a Grand March with Russian Cossacks and a procession of Tyroleans who danced the Tyrolean Waltz. There was even an Esmeralda in a golden coach drawn by four goats (who were decorated better than half the people there). I sang with the Juvenile Orchestra, who had all dressed in costumes of Mozart's day. They were charming, if a little uneven.

  By the time the Grand Ball started at ten, I was exhausted from smiling so much and being so kind to all the little children, as delightful as they are, and so when Gideon suggested that we get some champagne and he and Alain and I should go back to the hotel, I was more than ready to do so.

  Alain and Gideon were half drunk, and I was annoyed because they were having so much fun. So when we got back to the Fifth Avenue, I drank some champagne from the bottle. The bubbles fizzed up my nose and ran down my chin and I coughed and Alain and Gideon laughed until I thought they would burst. Then Gideon grabbed me about the waist and twirled me around the room and gave me more champagne to drink until I was a little drunk myself.

  Alain called that we should waltz, and so Gideon began to hum a tune and Alain waltzed me about the room quite clumsily. We were all laughing and very gay, and soon we had all drunk so much that we were stumbling. Then Alain took a bottle of laudanum and poured some into my champagne, and when I told him no, he said he did not realize I was such a staid old maid, and was I going to put a pall on the evening? And so I took the champagne and drank it to prove I could have as much fun as they.

  After that I do not remember very much--only a few things, like images from a dream. I remember that Gideon pulled me to him and kissed me so deeply I moaned, and then suddenly Alain was there, and Gideon let me go into his arms, and Alain was kissing me too, and they passed me back and forth until I could hardly tell them apart. And though I thought how bad it was to be doing this, I didn't stop, because it was only kissing, and I knew that I must make certain I was Alain's favorite. I made myself think of Paris.

  Then Gideon grabbed the laudanum and went to stretch out on the settee. He took a long drink and looked at me, and I knew what he wanted me to do, and knew too that I would do it, and the laudanum made everything seem all right.

  Alain gave me more champagne, and the next thing I remember I was lying on the bed in only my chemise and my corset unhooked to expose my breasts, which Alain was nuzzling in a sleepy way, and I felt so languid and the world was
so soft--it was as if I were locked inside a dream. I did not even mind his mouth on my breasts, though I knew I would mind it very much when I woke. Gideon was still on the settee, and when he took another drink of the laudanum, it roused me and brought me a little into myself, and I thought I should not be here, and that if I did not leave now I might not ever, so I rolled off the bed, dislodging Alain, who only made a mild sound of protest and collapsed back again.

  I thought I must be sleepwalking--I was very unsteady, and the floor was like walking on pillows. Gideon grabbed my hand as I passed him and pressed it to his mouth, and whispered "You still love me?" or perhaps he said "You still belong to me?" The world was in a fog and his voice was very low and I could not be sure. It didn't matter. The answer to either question was yes, and when I told him that, he let me go, and I went to my room through the adjoining door and locked it behind me.

  And now I feel very sick, not just from the champagne and the laudanum, but at how willing I was to "jump" at Gideon's request. The only reason I did not fuck Alain was because he'd had too much laudanum--and I would have done it in front of Gideon too, and who knows what would have happened then? Perhaps there would have been the two of them together ... which makes me so ashamed I do not think I can look at either of them. And so I have locked myself in my room, and when Gideon came to take me to lunch I told him to go away. I am afraid of who I am when I am with him, and of how much I want to please him. I am afraid of what I will do.