disclaimer- I don't own shit ok, are you happy? Good for you!
Today, on this fine spring day, Alice walked alone into the park. Usually she was afraid of the city, if nothing else she was afraid of its size. But for some reason today she felt fearless and bold. Perhaps the fresh air had brought it upon her, the smell of flowers, all over the city, was intoxicating. All of her worries, about money, about the future she had lost, about whether she would ever see her babies again and more pressingly Satines' new job.
Her little sister had recently begun work at the infamous Moulin Rouge. Alice knew that the job required more than just singing and dancing but she didn't think Satine had figured that out yet. Somehow Alice hadn't been able to tell her. She trusted that when Satine found out she'd leave and seek work elsewhere.
She was so talented, Alice though, she deserved the finest stage in France with her own dressing room and expensive costumes. As she wandered boldly among the puddles and pigeons all of this melted away into the clear blue sky.
"And you live your life with your arms stretched out, eye to eye when speaking, enter rooms with great joy shouts, happy to be meeting," Alice sung to herself, she didn't have Satine's powerful stage voice but her singing was sweet and light as the dew on the grass. That verse was Satine alright. How she loved her fiery sister. She sat on a bench allowing the sun to soak into her whole body.
"And bright, bright, bright as yellow, warm as yellow."
She got up and walked through the garden. French gardens are magnificent, especially in spring. She picked a delicate yellow rose and held it to her nose. She closed her eyes, allowing the smell to be everything for a few precious seconds.
"And I do not want to be a rose, I do not wish to be pale pink, but flower scarlet, flower gold, and have no thorns to distance me, but be bright, bright, bright as yellow, warm as yellow."
Alice was crying. Simple, happy, generous Alice. She could never yell or scold so she had to hold everything inside. She wanted to yell although she wasn't sure why. She felt so moved by strange emotions.
"Even if I'm shouting, even if I'm shouting here inside. Even if I'm shouting, do you see that I'm wanting, that I want to be so, bright, bright, bright as yellow, warm as yellow."
She lay in the grass, sunlight lighting up her features, her hair glowed, her skin shown. She didn't know what would become of her but she was ready for whatever came.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch
I had always worn a corset, since I was a little girl. I remember my first time wearing one, Rosa had laced it for me. I had wondered what insanity had made people invent such things. All the same I had gotten used to it. But this was just crazy. These corsets were laced so tight I could hardly breath, yet Zidler expected me to be able to dance and do high kicks in this torture contraption. I bit my lip, refusing to complain.
Viewing myself in the mirror, I saw I had been smothered in makeup. It felt strange, I had never been aloud to wear it at home and when I ran away I was too poor to afford it and not skilled enough to put it on. My eyes traveled down my body. I thought my costume was the most beautiful thing I'd ever worn. It was cream colored with delicate gold roses embroidered on it. Antonia, or Nini as everyone called her, had done something with my hair so that my curls were tied back but still feel nicely across my face. She had even lent me, under Harold's instruction, a large, gold hair pin to hold it back.
I bit my nails and tugged on my hair. I was nervous. Tonight was my big debut. I had to sing and dance in front of everyone. I'd performed before but never sober and that wasn't the half of it. A few weeks ago Harold had taken me aside and explain exactly what it meant to work at the Moulin Rouge. I hadn't caught on for all of Nini's sly hits. At first I had been horrified but Zidler had whispered of what a star I would be, of the costumes I'd wear, the audiences I'd have. How easily I was bewitched by such ideas.
I wouldn't show it, but I was terrified. Still I buried it all inside. That was part of being a whore after all. The dressing rooms where hot, crowded and smelling but my senses seemed to have disappeared. I felt light headed. I heard Zidler's booming voice over all other noise.
"Satine, you're on!"