Chapter Eight.
Broken Ballerina
After I tell Calix I’ll see him later, I head off to my psychology class, knowing I’ll spend the entire lesson being unable to concentrate because I’ll be far too immersed in the prospect of going to the City of the Broken with my prince again this evening. And the relief in knowing that Calix was honest all along. How could I ever delude myself that I could get over him so soon? Ever? He’s the most extraordinary human I’ve met .I want him forever in my life. He’s the type of person who could make the most mundane thing seem wondrous. He’s the man I’ve wanted all my life, without ever knowing it. It’s like my heart had a subconscious that buried the truth deep within and he was it. He reaches me in such a way ,making me feel feelings I never thought possible, and yet feel so natural, instinctive yet universally complex.
If I didn’t know any better I’d think I was hallucinating this picture-perfect creature that is my boyfriend, a fantasy all my own. But I’m not, he’s real. He’s mine. Even the phoney Calix that his father presented to me, his one fault, isn’t real. His broken, dark and mysterious demeanour only further adds to my warped fascination with him. Like one who found the secret of the world, only to have to keep it to himself for eternity, bearing the burden with grace.
School draws to an end and I listen to my MP3 player feeling enthralled and excited, relieved and revived. I think I’m just as in love with The City of the Broken as I am its Prince.
It’s a giant gothic runway, all the citizens dressed in glorious splendour. Victoriana brought into the modern day, suffering from severe depression and realising it’s not so bad. Calix is taking me to the city. He’s told me he has a surprise for me when we get there. I’m so curious as to what he’s got planned. His last surprise was Black Ball, which epically surpassed all my expectations. Jasmine catches up with me and gauges from my excitement that I have plans.
“You seem vibrant despite what happened today. What was all that about at lunchtime?” she asks
“Oh Jasmine. Sorry you had to witness our showdown,” I giggle slightly embarrassed but still too elated to really care about the whole thing.
“Yeah, you had the whole school’s attention,” she says.
“See you tomorrow Jas,” I say rushing off.
I wear my black knee-length dress with white corsage collar. Ready to go. It’s always
weird to have to go to a graveyard on a date, especially at night. It feels so much safer when Calix is with me. I’ve never been fazed by death, the graveyard doesn’t creep me out as much as it might others .I’d probably go alone at midnight to the city if I had the promise of Calix at the end. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
He picks me up. He’s in the Rolls Royce. Alfred is driving.
“Why don’t you learn to drive yourself? That way Alfred can get some sleep,” I say.
Alfred is holding the door open for me and Calix’s beauty is bewildering tonight. His skin looks practically translucent ,illuminated.. His jet black hair blacker than the night, glossier than the shiny Rolls Royce. Perfect.
“The city awaits,” he says smoothly and I smile, glad the Calix I thought wasn’t real only a day ago really does exist. Alfred opens the gate and through we go, pausing so he can close it again.
“I’ve been waiting,” I say.
“Waiting?” he asks arching an eyebrow at me
“Waiting…all day long.”
“Why?” he asks
“To see you, to see the city, my two favourite things.”
We drive through the black railings, which welcome us in their elitist embrace into the City of the Broken. Calix’s face is one I could stare at for hours and never get bored but even I can’t resist glancing out of the blacked out windows of the Rolls Royce to absorb the city in all its gloomy glory.
A tall black column greets us, the signpost informing us where we are. An illuminated purple ‘B’ flashes. The citizens are there, curious rare safari park creatures, longing, lonely, lifeless. Willingly choosing a dark existence. The prince of this land sits next to me.
“So Calix, where are we heading?” I ask interested ,although pleased to be anywhere in the city.
“Well last time we were here together I surprised you, so I won’t do that this time. I’m taking you to the Royal Black Ballet of the Broken,” he smiles knowingly.
“Oh wow, that sounds lovely Calix .I’ve never been to a ballet before, but I’ve always loved he music in Swan Lake.”
“I’m glad you like the idea,” he says grinning ,looking young and relaxed, putting his hand on top of mine.
The sky is growing dark as we drive into the wealthier district of the city. The sight of women in evening wear tells me we are approaching the venue of the ballet.
“I do wish you’d informed me earlier of this occasion Calix, I feel underdressed,” I scold him teasingly with a flicker of seriousness lurking underneath.
“I’m sorry Seren, remember it was only this afternoon that we made up. I wasn’t sure we were even going to the ballet at all,” he says, exposing both palms truthfully.
“It’s okay Calix, I forgive you,” I giggle hugging my prince charming tightly.
We walk up to the front of the theatre where the ballet is taking place.
“Are you sure you don’t want to take the back entrance, won’t the guests heckle you because you’re a Prince?” I ask concerned we’re about to get mobbed.
“They will, but the entrance hall to the theatre is beautiful Seren, I didn’t want you to miss it,” he says kindly.
The entrance doors to the theatre are golden and oak, inside there is a red carpet covering the floor .At the golden ticket booth, we stand and wait our turn in the queue, like everyone else. I think Calix gets a secret thrill out of being ordinary. People are whispering that the guy queuing looks like the Prince ,but we try our best to look like we don’t realize they’re talking about us.
“This really is amazing Calix” I look around and gracing the walls are advertisements of every show that is currently playing at The Royal Theatre of the Broken. This would have been the most vibrant place in the whole city, nevertheless clues tell me this is no ordinary theatre. A musical extravaganza ‘Loving Death’ seems to be the most popular attraction, the face of a screaming woman based on the famous work of art gazes down at me from every wall. The ballet is there too. The dancers, graceful and elegant as they should be, are dressed in barely there lace. A life lived in the pursuit of thinness perhaps being their broken secret. The ballet poster reads ‘A Princess who dies without ever finding her Prince.’ Oh this is going to be depressing. I should have guessed.
“Sir, Madam,” the ticket seller calls.
“Two front row seats please,” Calix asks.
“Our finest seats are the box seats, for very special guests such as yourself Sir,” the ticket seller says awakening from his former state of boredom to animated fluster.
“No thank you, two front row seats please,” he persists.
I look up at him, intrigued by his insistence on the front row seats.
“Normal, remember? You can only get box seats if you’re a V.I.P.”
“Oh I see,” I smile finding Calix’s ambition to be ordinary cute. His humility is sweet, a stark contrast to that of his father.
We make our way to our ‘normal’ person seats. I enjoy soaking up the atmosphere.
Theatres are always exciting places to be, but this one has the added dimension of funeral parlour that makes me feel like I’m attending the premier of a silent film from the 1920’s surrounded by the original stars that have long since died. We take our seats. It isn’t as crowded in here, many of the seats are empty. Although the box seats are full, I guess VIPs’ must be fond of the Black Ballet. Then suddenly I spot Anita, she looks rather sad, dejected even, certainly more down-trodden than the elegant, forceful presence she was at the BlackBall game. I look away in case she spots Calix and I and asks us to join her.
“Hey, I see Anita in the Box Seats. She looks really upset. Do you know what’s wrong with her?” I ask Calix.
“Oh, Anita, yes. She insists on coming to every single showing of the ballet and sometimes they have performances three times a day,” he says shaking his head in disapproval.
“What for? Surely she’ll get bored of it?” I ask perplexed.
“You see Anita had dreams of becoming a ballerina herself, it was her greatest, perhaps only aspiration. She trained excessively all through her youth, but didn’t make it because of her height,” he says sympathetically.
“She is tall,” I say glancing up at her again.
“Well anyway, that’s the reason she’s a broken citizen-the death of her ballet dream destroyed her. She puts on a brave public show, but as you can see she haunts this theatre, still refusing to let go. I suppose she figured if she couldn’t be in the performances, she could at least make sure she didn’t miss a single one as an audience member,” he says.
“Poor Anita,” I say in astonishment. I can’t believe I feel sorry for her, but I do. You can see the yearning for a life she never had reflected in her face.
“What about Frederick, doesn’t he try and stop her coming here all the time?” I ask him, thinking a little intervention might do her good.
“He doesn’t know. To be honest even though they are engaged, he’s so busy training that they hardly ever see each other. It was fortunate the BlackBall tournament didn’t clash with the ballet showing as I’m sure Anita wouldn’t have attended if it had,” he says earnestly.
I sit silent, dumbfounded. Anita has a true obsession with this ballet.
The black velvet curtain draws up, followed by a second curtain made of the finest, spider-web thin lace. I look at Anita quickly before the lights are dimmed, her eyeballs look as though they are about to pop out of her head. The spotlight hit’s the stage and the audience no longer exists. The princess dances alone, like a singular figure in a music box, before being joined on stage by possible suitors. It looks hopeful, at first with cheerful flute like music hinting at a pleasant first meeting and positive first impressions. Then suddenly it all becomes very dramatic and there is a lot of friction. The set is a back drop of Alpine-looking hills and a medieval stone castle. The flowing black lace dress of the princess adds to the intensity.
Intermission. And just as the tension was heating up. The lights come back on and the audience shuffle and get up for various wants and needs.
“I can see why Anita would long for all this. Whenever I go to the theatre and see all the drama, the costumes, the dancing I long for it too,” I tell Calix.
“It is spectacular. They are world-class dancers. Are there any refreshments you’d like during intermission?” he asks.
“No thanks, I’d just rather wait here and talk to you,” I say realizing that I can see the curtain twitching and a red head disappearing behind it. Anita.
“Why is she going behind the curtain, to get an autograph?” I ask intrigued.
“No, every intermission she dances on stage, veiled behind the curtain, every single movement as precise as the real performances. Then she asks them if she can join as a stand in if one of the dancers gets ill, being refused every time. She’s been asked to leave the Theatre several times accused of harassing the dancers,” he says.
“Doesn’t she ever get the message?” I ask.
“I think it’s the only way she can keep some semblance of her dream alive. Denial I guess you’d call it,” he says and the music returns. Curtain up, spotlight on the stage.
The ballet has become heart-wrenchingly sad now, the ballerina all alone, dancing desperately in despair looking for a suitor who will not come. The music is eerie and it all looks very much a broken ballet, befitting the City. It ends with the ballerina dropping slowly down to her death. Her face a picture of anguish. All alone on stage, covered with her death dress of lace.
Her only company the now starlit night sky with the moon reflecting its glow onto those high peaks. Curtain down. A slow, unenthusiastic applause from the audience-not because they didn’t enjoy the ballet, but because they don’t enjoy anything. Everyone gets up to leave, except Anita who remains firmly seated still staring, almost manically at the stage .I consider waving at her, but decide against it ,figuring she’s too fixated to pay attention to my presence anyway.
“That was beautiful and depressing at the same time,” I remark.
“Just like the city,” he says.
“Just like the city,” I agree. Still I maintain Anita was the most fascinating part of the show.
“I’m glad I’ve found my suitor,” I smile looking deeply into his eyes, wondering if I have ever seen such thick and lustrous lashes.
Even though it’s pouring with rain, we stand outside the theatre and kiss. And as we do I reflect how I almost lost him. Never before has his kiss felt so precious.
Calix drove me home from the City of the Broken, and I’m glad he did as I was drenched .I dried but I’m sure I can still feel water between my toes. Wet I may have been, but oh wow, how worth it was.
I feel so lucky. I have my Prince, my city. I am living my dream. I always thought Anita had it all, but now I realize I have it better than her. Aside from a few Daddy bumps in the road, it’s all gone smoothly with Calix. Even the Prima-ballerina was dying of a broken heart or loneliness, albeit fictionally. But I have my beloved, and I’ve never felt so grateful. I’m infused with my familiar and welcome school excitement and I can’t sleep. Calix and lunchtime seem so far away.