Rufus can tell him if he chooses to, but I don’t want to speak about it. “No.”
“All right. That will be all. Thank you for coming in.”
When I get home I go straight to bed and I don’t get out of it again until the middle of the next morning.
Brynn calls me in the afternoon. I can hear the smile in his voice so I know it’s good news.
“The part’s yours, Abby. The director at the Palais gave you a wonderful reference. So did the owner. He said you were one of the most promising performers he’s ever worked with.”
I dig my nails into my palm, trying to ignore the lurch in my belly. “That’s great.”
He hesitates. I have to give him a little more.
“What an opportunity, thank you so much, Brynn. I’m so excited to get started.”
“Great!” He gives me the details about the first rehearsal, and we ring off.
Over the weeks, the theater starts to work its magic on me. I have more energy and I can manage to smile when I’m there, which is good because people expect it from me. During the early rehearsals some of the lines make me feel choked up when I speak them, but I tell myself that they’re just words and I shouldn’t listen to myself as I say them.
“You had the power all along, my dear. You just had to learn it for yourself.”
“You are capable of more than you know.”
I find that I can get through my days. I’m not happy, but I don’t tell myself I should be happy or try to make myself happy like I did before Rufus, which in a twisted way makes things easier.
We’re into the dress rehearsals, and then it’s the opening night. I have my own dressing room and I take a long look at myself in the mirror before I head upstairs to wait for my cue. I look like a pink Christmas bauble and I’m covered head to toe in glitter. There’s only one person I want to be in the audience tonight, watching me, and he won’t be there because I’m not brave enough. I’m only brave enough for this, so it will just have to be enough.
I head out of my dressing room and turn left like I always used to. It’s the wrong way. I turn back and head the right way to the stage.
The audience is stuffed full of the cast’s family and friends, so we get a long standing ovation at the end and the stars take three curtain calls. I have a lump in my throat the whole time.
This is the hardest one, I tell myself. It will be easier after tonight.
My mum and dad are there in my dressing room to greet me when I get offstage. They’re so excited and happy for me. There’s something a little manic about the way my mother admires my costume and the glittery powder all over my shoulders and cheekbones and the way I sang. She’s so desperate for me to be okay.
There’s a knock at the door and one of the stagehands passes a bunch of pale pink roses to me. They look velvety soft and I bury my face in them for a moment, just breathing, trying to get my mother’s voice to fade into the background. I don’t quite manage it.
There’s a note taped to the tissue paper and I put the flowers down and take it out of the little envelope. You are beautiful. R.
I start to cry. He was there after all, watching me.
My mother peers at the card. “I can’t believe that brute sent you flowers. Throw them in the bin.”
“He’s not a brute.” I’m so tired of everything that the words just start running freely with my tears. “He was my dom. He wanted me to never lie and always eat properly and take care of myself. But more than anything he just wanted me to be myself and always feel safe and happy. He disciplined me but I wanted him to do that and I know that that’s weird and it’s weird I called him daddy and he called me babygirl, but we called each other a lot of other things, too, like sweetheart and Abby and Rufus. He took away all the things I was afraid of and now he’s gone I’m frightened of everything.” Tears plop onto the note and the letters start to run. It’s his handwriting, the only bit I’ve got, and I’m ruining it.
My parents are just staring at me, saying nothing.
“That’s what we were,” I continue, swiping at my face. “That’s the truth. I didn’t know how to tell you but it hurts so bad not having him that I don’t care what you think of me anymore.”
My phone buzzes. So I don’t have to look at them staring at me I reach for it and read the screen.
I am so proud of you for telling them.
I cry out and look at the door. It’s ajar. I yank it open and he’s there, standing right outside, looking like he always did but with an expression in his eyes like he’s afraid and hopeful all at once. I throw myself into his arms and bury my face in his neck. He’s whispering to me and his words warm me through like sunshine. “Babygirl. You danced so beautifully. I’m so proud of you.”
I pull back and look at him, my hands gripping fistfuls of his shirt. “I missed you so much, Rufus.”
He strokes his thumb over my cheek and it comes away glittery. I’m dropping glitter all over him. “I missed you, little one.”