With great ecstasy, I twirled and twirled in front of my vanity. My hair neatly on top of my head, my long silver dress, which cut up to the thigh, fell down my body in a cascading river that accentuated my great height. Just wait until Sir Gubler saw me like this!
I gently pulled my comb through my silken hair, then ran the curler into them and watched as my hair took the cylinder shape, and fall in two identical ringlets framing my face.
Before I left, I placed an identical silver mask onto my face, the same fabric of the dress.
I smiled. I was a different girl when I was with him. Matthew, he made me...stronger some how. I was confident and unafraid and less meek, than when I was when I was the second in line Prima Donna ballerina Meg Giry.
Next to Matthew, I was the masked Phantom Mistress, awe inspiring and mystical and mysterious. He didn't even know my name, but I was his everything, and he my whole world. I already knew we were going to leave this city, this country. Get away. From his name calling and my being held down, held back and my curbed tongue....We'd take both our mothers.
Mother would like that, be away from trying to please everyone. She always tried to, wouldn't she like a break?
And Matthew's mother, wouldn't she like to leave the asylum? I knew she had to, wouldn't everyone?
Matthew and I would have children, beautiful children. I looked in my vanity and imagined my now slender body swollen with Matthew's child. I smiled and every inch of me tingled at the thought. We'd be gypsies. Or live in America, I heard so much about.
I took one look at the clock. Damn! I would have to run to get a carriage and quickly, the gala was down the block. I had no escort. Mother had counted on me to find one. Perhaps I could meet one and claim him as one if anyone asked.
I arrived and it was noted I was the only girl in a mask. I noticed the whispers of other girls, and some even sneered at me. How dare I defy them? They didn't even know who I was. I made sure to give them the finger at my departure. The all gasped horridly and I suppressed a giggle.
Then, there he was. He knew it was me. He knew my smile, knew my hair, my eyes. Just like I knew his, knew his everything. My feet slowly walked toward him, then I could no longer stand it. I broke out and a sprint and my arms flew out and-
"AHH!"
The hands gripped my shoulders and roughly yanked me to the side. Again, I screamed out in fright until I saw the black tafftia dress and knew who it was.
"What are you doing!" She asked angrily "What are you wearing! What are you doing here late! Why is that mask on your face!" She continued to yank me up the stares of the house as she flew rhetorical questions at me.
When she was done, I was dressed so differently. She put me in a white dress, the way she did when I was young and she still dressed me. Pulled my hair down and straightened it, hair up was a sign of a married woman anyway and my mother was not having that. My mother put the revealing dress I had made into her bag and was pulling me down stairs. I tried to yank up my skirts, but once again, she forbade me. So, I was tripping along down the stairs, my hair, now straight like silk, was flying out behind me like a long cape. I must look like a flailing mess.
"Why are we-" I began to ask
"To meet your new suitor. He is your escort for the night."
My heart sunk in my chest. I froze and stopped in my tracks, as did my mother, otherwise I would likely have fallen down the stairs in a horrible display.
My mother gave me a sad look."Please Meg," she pleaded," Please. You need this. Meg, I'm worried about you. Please, Meg,"
My eyes were filling with tears and my mother frantically sought out a hanker chief to save my painted face. Matthew, my sweet Matthew...My dreams came crashing around me. A suitor meant marriage. Once I was married, I would no longer dance. And now, my Matthew was-was-was....I didn't know. Gone forever. I would never marry him. We would never live together far away in America as the memory of us faded in Paris. Our mothers at our sides, and my body full with his baby. It would never happen.
"Meg, stop crying!" My mother shrieked for the hundredth time.
"Meg-" she began again, pleading.
"I will go to him."
At first she was shocked and then she came over it and put on her poker face.
"Smile," She said, as she did before every performance. Which was ironic. I would have to wear a poker face for my future husband for the rest of my life.
Mother released her hand from the small of my back and walked into the parlor, where we were to meet my courter, and I waited in the hall as she entered.
"Hello, Sir," she began as she closed the door, then the rest of the conversation was muted. Until the door was opened. My mother, with her smiling face motioned me in.
Terrified, I trudged in. I looked a my feet and watched how ungraceful they shuffled across the wooden floor. When, I looked up, ready to face my horrid future, my breath caught in my throat. My heart stopped and I almost fell backward. As I teetered, he didn't even reach out to catch me as I wanted his steady hands to, as I remember how strong and warm they were. Instead, a look of disgust crossed his face. And I felt tears coming on.
Matthew, my Matthew. My suitor.
My heart stopped, I should be over joyed, but I wasn't. His demeanor wasn't the same.
He hated me.
And because I didn't have the mask
He always would.
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