In the morning, Faye woke up in her own apartment in her own bed.
Last night was very vague. She didn't remember coming home. What she did remember was Charlie's disappointed face, his dissatisfied sighs as he used Floo powder to get himself home. Faye Apparated to the studio, then drove her car home. She didn't remember the drive home at all. She did remember coming inside, the darkness of the living room as she dropped her dance bag off. She remembered Charlie's light breathing as she changed and crawled into bed next to him. He turned so his back was facing her so she knew that he was mad.
The bed was empty when she woke up to the alarm. Charlie's side of the bed was made, the shower wasn't running, everything was silent except for the constant humming of the furnace.
She stumbled out of bed and walked, wearing just her panties and bra, to the shower. She showered quickly, not even knowing she was showering. Was she having a hangover? Had Molly put some drugs in the fish last night? She felt useless, numb. Dance would clear that up.
She didn't eat, just changed and dragged herself to Ernie.
He wouldn't start.
"Damn," she muttered, climbing out and opening the hood. She quickly checked over a few things, found the problem and repaired it without getting dirty.
Ernie finally started. Faye turned the music down, then when she reached the highway turned it completely off. A double-decker bus rolled by her, the passengers looking like the most boring people alive. Faye wished they'd all wear orange pants just to make themselves more interesting.
She rolled into the parking lot of the studio and found two of the girls, Kelsey and Leslie, along with Jenna already inside. (Jenna had a key also.)
"Uh...just warm up..." Faye told them. "Tell everyone else to do the same."
"Only Lori and Katrina can make it today, remember?" Leslie said. "School- day..."
Oh, yeah.
"Oh. I forgot."
They looked at her strangely.
"Okay...then let's start with warm-ups and stretches and then we'll work on our Dracula variation, okay? Les, you're doing Indian. Kels, you do Tango. Uh...Lori can do Can-Can and Katrina'll do African. I think that's all until lunch."
Lori and Katrina showed up soon enough. They worked on the variation until lunchtime. Faye was demonstrating a line dance without the line when Jenna nudged her and jerked her head toward the glass.
Charlie was standing there, holding an envelope.
Faye's heart jumped to her throat. "Uh...work on that," she told them, looking at Charlie. "I'll be right back."
She moved slowly, cold and slow. Very slow. He waited patiently as she stepped off and stood in front of him.
"This came today," he told her.
"But...you're supposed to be at work," she stuttered, her eyes fixed on the envelope.
"I got sick," he told her. She looked up at him. He didn't look sick. She looked sick, she knew it.
He handed her the envelope. The magic words were glowing at the corner of the envelope: "Julliard School of the Arts, Office of Admissions."
After all this time, she wasn't ready. She didn't want to open the envelope, she didn't want to have anything happen. Her life was fine. Was there a need for change?
It was a thin envelope.
She opened it badly, a jagged opening that ripped through her name and address. The letter was brief: "We regret to inform you...thousands of qualified candidates...not a reflection on your abilities...many opportunities elsewhere...Sincerely..." Murder with a thin, sharp blade.
The need to vomit vanished. Dead girls don't puke.
The letter dropped from her hands, floated very gently to the floor. Charlie bent to pick it up, stood up straight, said something she couldn't hear. She looked up at him. His eyes were sorrowful. Suddenly, she knew that he knew that this would happen. Everything had gone wrong. She was a genius, a dancer, a performer. She belonged at Julliard, she belonged among her people.
iIf he says he knew this would happen, I will die all over again./i
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry."
She heard that.
He hugged her gently, buried her face in his chest. She didn't respond, didn't say anything. Her arms flopped limply at her sides. They swung uselessly. She couldn't feel, couldn't think. This was wrong.
She felt the dancers' eyes on her and Charlie and wished she were invisible.
Then she was four years old again and her father was hugging her and telling her that everything would be fine, even if it wouldn't. The reality didn't matter; what he said did.
Faye's relationship with her parents had disintegrated a few years after she had left school. The whole story was complicated. Her mother didn't like her dancing so much; she didn't think it would provide a career. She was wrong, it had become a career. The last time Faye had seen her parents was two years ago.
Now she wished that it was her father holding her instead of Charlie. She wished that she could cry and cry and not be called a baby. That was what she wished.
Charlie spoke. "It's not the end of the world," he said. "You still have me and the company. You can still dance."
iI want to dance on Broadway,/i she thought. iNot here. I want to wear my shoes on a huge stage, not in this little place./i
She watched, in a kind of horrified trance, as he walked onto the rehearsal area and spoke in a low voice to Jenna. Jenna glanced over at Faye, her eyes very sad. The four lone dancers looked extremely confused, but they waved reassuringly at Faye. Faye couldn't wave back. She wanted to break something.
Then Jenna came out and gave Faye a soft hug. "I'm sorry."
Faye felt those words in her ears, but didn't understand what they meant. iSorry, I'm sorry, I'm so very sorry, sorry, sorry sorry.../i What did it all mean? Her head hurt.
"Let's go," Charlie whispered to her. "Jenna can take your place for today."
Faye nodded numbly. She walked, almost ran, to the office and grabbed her bag. It dropped as she made to sling it over her shoulder. Everything came crashing out. Everything lay on the floor like a tragic accident. She grabbed the edge of the desk to keep from falling.
iIt was a sure thing. I was going to make it./i
Charlie came in and put her things into the bag slowly. Then he pulled Faye along after him. She followed listlessly into her car. He drove home the Muggle way, not bothering to use magic. She could feel his glances at her, but she didn't return them. She sat ramrod straight, using her perfect posture to her defense, looking straight through the windshield. She didn't even turn her head when they saw a car on fire on the causeway. Charlie took the exit to the apartment. She counted to thirty-seven before they pulled into her reserved parking space. She sat numbly, hoping to freeze in the cold. Charlie didn't seem to want to agree because he picked her up and settled her in their bed. He was so gentle, she had to notice. He carefully took off her dance shoes and put them in her dance bag. He tucked her hair behind her ears, pulled the blanket up over her. She smiled lightly at him and he nodded at her. Her fingers came up and touched his cheek briefly. He took her hand and placed it down on the bed.
"Sleep," he told her. "You need to sleep."
She wanted to leap up and jump out the window. That's what she needed. She also needed comfort food. She wanted something warm and mushy, warm and buttery, warm and filling. Something warm.
"Lay with me," she pleaded with him.
He looked sorrowful. "Faye..."
"Please."
He crawled in next to her. She felt his warmth as she scooted closer to him. He smelled like something fetid but comforting, like sweat or hair. The smell was on his neck and shirt and hands. She felt him smooth her hair down. The hair crackled with static electricity.
He didn't say anything. That was what she loved about him. He didn't talk when he knew he shouldn't talk. He was sensitive about certain things like this. When Faye had first met him, at a Hearing at the Ministry, she had thought that he was a vain presumptuous jerk like most of the guys she had ever dated. It turned out he wasn't. That was why they had moved in together after talking about it for a while. Charlie understood about her Muggle career and her relationship with her parents. He understood that she needed to be taken care of sometimes, he understood that she'd take care of you if you needed it. He understood about her lifestyle, the no-TV-almost- vegan lifestyle. He understood that she had mood swings.
What did she understand about him? She understood that he needed to have someone to take care of, she understood that he needed to be outside to be happy. She understood about his family and what went on with Percy. She understood about his thrill issues and why he had the career he did. She understood that he enjoyed danger.
A few minutes later, while she was half-asleep, he got up and went into the living room. If there was one thing Charlie was sensitive to, it was Faye's emotion. He hated it when she cried in front of him but he took care of her because he knew she needed it. He also knew that she'd resent him if he didn't.
He sat down in front of the TV that Faye insisted they have. Today, she had said, it looked very strange if someone didn't own a television. Charlie had agreed that they couldn't bring any large attention to themselves. Several of their paintings in the guest bedroom talked and the Degas portrait in the hall had the most insolent ballerinas he had ever met.
He flipped channels slowly, letting himself slowly see what was on each channel. There was nothing. A Lifetime movie, a talkshow, a how-to show. He paused at a likely program, apparently what was an adult cartoon. He watched it without much interest. In the back of his head, he was wondering about Julliard.
"Will she leave me?" he asked himself aloud. It was something that bothered him all the time, ever since she had returned from her trip. Her face was flushed as she told him what she had done. Her excitement didn't excite him but he acted excited because he didn't want to worry her. He didn't want her to worry about him. He had lived a long time without her; he could do it again.
If she left him, the flat would be filthy. It would have no fresh scent, no rude ballerinas. He wouldn't find her panties on the bathroom rug. He'd wear dirty clothes all the time, he'd eat TV dinners without a TV. He'd sleep in a cold bed with grimy sheets and disgusting ideas in his head. Faye had cleaned him, if that's what you wanted to say. She did his laundry, cooked pretty often, had sex with him. She gave him a lot.
He turned the TV off and searched through the phone book for a decent delivery place. He found some Chinese and ordered that. The order took about forty-five minutes to deliver. Charlie paid with a fistful of money. The man didn't even bother to count it; he took it gratefully and left.
Charlie woke Faye up gently. "Hey..." He shook her elbow gently. Her eyes flew open. "I ordered Chinese if you want some."
She nodded. "Um...yeah...I'll be there in a minute."
He nodded and left so she could change.
She pulled on one of his sweatshirts and pajama pants. Her reflection in the mirror looked terrible. She wondered if Charlie felt repulsed when he saw her.
The smell of the food made her sick to her stomach.
"I think I'll shower," she told him. He nodded, eating shrimp out of a white carton.
She turned on the hot shower and let the steamy water fall over her back.
She reviewed:
iStep 1. Hypothesis- I am special. I am going to be the next Martha Graham. I will change the dance world.
Step 2. Procedure- Acquire primary and secondary dance skills. Join a dance company. Start a dance company. Dance in national shows. Maintain a crushing curricular load.
Step 3. Results-failure
Step 4. Retrace steps. Procedure flawless.
Step 5. Conclusion-hypothesis is incorrect. I am a loser./i
So simple.
She swallowed. That was when she heard Charlie knocking.
"Faye!" he was yelling. That was all she could hear. She couldn't understand what he was saying. Was he speaking German? That's what it sounded like.
He knocked again. She ignored him. Instead, she picked up the razor and grabbed the bar of soap. She lathered up her leg and shaved it without one nick. Then she shaved her other leg. Charlie was still saying something. She acted like she didn't hear him. She shaved under her arms, then rinsed off. She wrapped her towel around her and unlocked the door. Charlie came bursting in.
"Faye!" he said, sounding slightly angry. "Why didn't you answer me?"
"I didn't hear you," she lied.
He knew she was lying. He ignored that factor. "Faye...your mum just called..."
Faye stared at him. "My imom/i just called? You're shitting me."
"I'm not," he told her. "She asked me if she could talk to you."
"Why would she want to do that?" Faye asked him. "She thinks you're a Devil- child and I'm your big whore."
Charlie shook his head. "Your dad just collapsed right now. They think he might have an aneurysm."
Faye nodded. "Riiiight. What'd she really want?"
He looked dead serious and it scared her. "I'm not joking."
"I know you're not."
She stood stock still, water dripping from her hair onto her back and then soaking into the towel. Charlie looked at her carefully. She looked like she'd just about had enough. Everything was falling apart on her.
"Where is he right now?" she asked him.
"The Muggle hospital where Dad was during his recovery," Charlie said. "Your mum said in room 303. She wants you to visit."
Faye shrugged. "But she hates me."
"She's your mother."
"That doesn't stop her from hating me."
"It does."
Faye sighed. "Let me get dressed," she said. "I'll be right out."
"Do you want to Apparate?" he asked.
"That'd be fine," Faye said. "But where?"
"Uh...in the restrooms of that restaurant in the lobby..."
"Fine. Lemme change."
He left. She walked to the bedroom and wore a long dark blue skirt and bright yellow tank top. Her father always loved intense colors. She pulled a white zip-up hoodie over it and wore flip-flops, even though she knew it would be freezing outside.
Charlie raised his eyebrows at her bright clothing but didn't say anything.
"I'll go first," she said. She waved her wand and hissed, "iApparatio!/i" She found herself in a stall in a fragrant restroom. The smell was like roses or something strange. It choked her. Charlie should have Apparated by now. Faye tucked her wand into her purse and stepped out. The restroom was deserted. She saw herself in the mirror. Her hair was still wet. She waved her wand at it and it was perfectly dry and straight.
She found Charlie waiting for her.
"Let's go," he said. She took a deep breath and grabbed his hand. It would feel very strange seeing her parents after two years...
Room 303 was on the third floor. It was the Intensive Care Unit. Charlie's grip tightened on her hand as the woman at the front desk gave them passes that allowed them to get past the security doors.
Faye thanked her softly and they took the elevator up.
"I hate the smell of hospitals," she told Charlie. "They smell so clean it makes me ill."
He smiled at her and squeezed her arm lightly. She felt suddenly very nervous.
The woman at the desk at the ICU smiled at them and asked to see their passes.
"She's been waiting for you," she told Faye.
Faye nodded. "How long have they been in here?"
"About forty-five minutes."
Faye exchanged scared glances with Charlie. He nodded assuringly.
The room came way too fast.
"Do you want me to stay out here?" he asked her.
"No, come with me," she pleaded.
"But your mom-"
"She doesn't matter right now."
Charlie shrugged and walked into the room with Faye. The scene, Faye knew, would remained burned into her eyes forever. Her father's hair had gotten shockingly white. Her mother's face had become severely creased. Her father was lying in bed with tubes all over him, his eyes open but completely vacant. Her mother was seated in a chair next to the bed.
Faye didn't know why she said what she said next. "Mommy?"
Her mother turned around. Her eyes were completely red. "Faye..." She practically breathed it.
They stood for what seemed like forever looking at each other.
"Oh, Faye," her mother said, smiling slightly. "You've changed."
Faye touched her hair. She knew it was much shorter and neater.
"You too," Faye said helpfully. She reached behind herself and pulled Charlie front by his jacket. "You remember Charlie?"
Of course she remembered Charlie. That was the last thing they had fought about. Charlie knew that. Faye's mother smiled. "Yes," she said. "It's good to see you."
"You too," Charlie offered, though at the moment it was terrible for them to see each other.
Faye's eyes drifted over to the hospital bed. Her father's vacant eyes were staring at her. She felt a lump in her throat. "Dad..." she croaked.
"You don't have to do this," Charlie whispered to her.
"Yes, I do," she replied.
Her mother was watching her intently. "He said your name a while ago," she said. "That's when I called."
Faye felt terribly guilty.
Charlie gently steered to the bedside. Faye looked down in disgust and mourning and horrifying enthrallment. This was her father.
His eyes were still empty, but they had followed her. They moved to Charlie to Faye and back to Charlie and then finally rested on Faye. His mouth moved and Faye saw it. She bit her lip and tasted blood. She couldn't cry. She wouldn't cry. Not now, not in front of her mother and Charlie and a strange nurse who had come to see progress. It turned out that there was none.
"Faye..." This escaped out of her father's throat. "Faye."
Faye felt tears well up in her eyes. "Hi, Daddy," she told him. "Hi."
Charlie squeezed her shoulder in a comforting way.
"The nurse encouraged me to talk to him," her mother said helpfully from behind. Faye nodded. She looked at her father and saw that he had closed his eyes. Had he been waiting for her to come?
"Talk to him," Charlie encouraged her from behind.
"No," she said, surprised by how firm and strong her voice was. "No. He can't understand me anyway. We're leaving. In a cab."
"But-"
"We're leaving," she ordered.
Faye walked out of the hospital room, ignoring her mother completely. Charlie ran after her after a few apologetic words to her mother.
"That's was igreat/i of you," Charlie said sarcastically. "They're your parents, Faye."
"Yes, they are," she replied. "And he's dying. So just leave me alone, okay?"
They hailed a cab outside and drove home in silence. Their cab driver was very conversational, but he got the hint when Faye politely asked him to shut up.
Last night was very vague. She didn't remember coming home. What she did remember was Charlie's disappointed face, his dissatisfied sighs as he used Floo powder to get himself home. Faye Apparated to the studio, then drove her car home. She didn't remember the drive home at all. She did remember coming inside, the darkness of the living room as she dropped her dance bag off. She remembered Charlie's light breathing as she changed and crawled into bed next to him. He turned so his back was facing her so she knew that he was mad.
The bed was empty when she woke up to the alarm. Charlie's side of the bed was made, the shower wasn't running, everything was silent except for the constant humming of the furnace.
She stumbled out of bed and walked, wearing just her panties and bra, to the shower. She showered quickly, not even knowing she was showering. Was she having a hangover? Had Molly put some drugs in the fish last night? She felt useless, numb. Dance would clear that up.
She didn't eat, just changed and dragged herself to Ernie.
He wouldn't start.
"Damn," she muttered, climbing out and opening the hood. She quickly checked over a few things, found the problem and repaired it without getting dirty.
Ernie finally started. Faye turned the music down, then when she reached the highway turned it completely off. A double-decker bus rolled by her, the passengers looking like the most boring people alive. Faye wished they'd all wear orange pants just to make themselves more interesting.
She rolled into the parking lot of the studio and found two of the girls, Kelsey and Leslie, along with Jenna already inside. (Jenna had a key also.)
"Uh...just warm up..." Faye told them. "Tell everyone else to do the same."
"Only Lori and Katrina can make it today, remember?" Leslie said. "School- day..."
Oh, yeah.
"Oh. I forgot."
They looked at her strangely.
"Okay...then let's start with warm-ups and stretches and then we'll work on our Dracula variation, okay? Les, you're doing Indian. Kels, you do Tango. Uh...Lori can do Can-Can and Katrina'll do African. I think that's all until lunch."
Lori and Katrina showed up soon enough. They worked on the variation until lunchtime. Faye was demonstrating a line dance without the line when Jenna nudged her and jerked her head toward the glass.
Charlie was standing there, holding an envelope.
Faye's heart jumped to her throat. "Uh...work on that," she told them, looking at Charlie. "I'll be right back."
She moved slowly, cold and slow. Very slow. He waited patiently as she stepped off and stood in front of him.
"This came today," he told her.
"But...you're supposed to be at work," she stuttered, her eyes fixed on the envelope.
"I got sick," he told her. She looked up at him. He didn't look sick. She looked sick, she knew it.
He handed her the envelope. The magic words were glowing at the corner of the envelope: "Julliard School of the Arts, Office of Admissions."
After all this time, she wasn't ready. She didn't want to open the envelope, she didn't want to have anything happen. Her life was fine. Was there a need for change?
It was a thin envelope.
She opened it badly, a jagged opening that ripped through her name and address. The letter was brief: "We regret to inform you...thousands of qualified candidates...not a reflection on your abilities...many opportunities elsewhere...Sincerely..." Murder with a thin, sharp blade.
The need to vomit vanished. Dead girls don't puke.
The letter dropped from her hands, floated very gently to the floor. Charlie bent to pick it up, stood up straight, said something she couldn't hear. She looked up at him. His eyes were sorrowful. Suddenly, she knew that he knew that this would happen. Everything had gone wrong. She was a genius, a dancer, a performer. She belonged at Julliard, she belonged among her people.
iIf he says he knew this would happen, I will die all over again./i
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry."
She heard that.
He hugged her gently, buried her face in his chest. She didn't respond, didn't say anything. Her arms flopped limply at her sides. They swung uselessly. She couldn't feel, couldn't think. This was wrong.
She felt the dancers' eyes on her and Charlie and wished she were invisible.
Then she was four years old again and her father was hugging her and telling her that everything would be fine, even if it wouldn't. The reality didn't matter; what he said did.
Faye's relationship with her parents had disintegrated a few years after she had left school. The whole story was complicated. Her mother didn't like her dancing so much; she didn't think it would provide a career. She was wrong, it had become a career. The last time Faye had seen her parents was two years ago.
Now she wished that it was her father holding her instead of Charlie. She wished that she could cry and cry and not be called a baby. That was what she wished.
Charlie spoke. "It's not the end of the world," he said. "You still have me and the company. You can still dance."
iI want to dance on Broadway,/i she thought. iNot here. I want to wear my shoes on a huge stage, not in this little place./i
She watched, in a kind of horrified trance, as he walked onto the rehearsal area and spoke in a low voice to Jenna. Jenna glanced over at Faye, her eyes very sad. The four lone dancers looked extremely confused, but they waved reassuringly at Faye. Faye couldn't wave back. She wanted to break something.
Then Jenna came out and gave Faye a soft hug. "I'm sorry."
Faye felt those words in her ears, but didn't understand what they meant. iSorry, I'm sorry, I'm so very sorry, sorry, sorry sorry.../i What did it all mean? Her head hurt.
"Let's go," Charlie whispered to her. "Jenna can take your place for today."
Faye nodded numbly. She walked, almost ran, to the office and grabbed her bag. It dropped as she made to sling it over her shoulder. Everything came crashing out. Everything lay on the floor like a tragic accident. She grabbed the edge of the desk to keep from falling.
iIt was a sure thing. I was going to make it./i
Charlie came in and put her things into the bag slowly. Then he pulled Faye along after him. She followed listlessly into her car. He drove home the Muggle way, not bothering to use magic. She could feel his glances at her, but she didn't return them. She sat ramrod straight, using her perfect posture to her defense, looking straight through the windshield. She didn't even turn her head when they saw a car on fire on the causeway. Charlie took the exit to the apartment. She counted to thirty-seven before they pulled into her reserved parking space. She sat numbly, hoping to freeze in the cold. Charlie didn't seem to want to agree because he picked her up and settled her in their bed. He was so gentle, she had to notice. He carefully took off her dance shoes and put them in her dance bag. He tucked her hair behind her ears, pulled the blanket up over her. She smiled lightly at him and he nodded at her. Her fingers came up and touched his cheek briefly. He took her hand and placed it down on the bed.
"Sleep," he told her. "You need to sleep."
She wanted to leap up and jump out the window. That's what she needed. She also needed comfort food. She wanted something warm and mushy, warm and buttery, warm and filling. Something warm.
"Lay with me," she pleaded with him.
He looked sorrowful. "Faye..."
"Please."
He crawled in next to her. She felt his warmth as she scooted closer to him. He smelled like something fetid but comforting, like sweat or hair. The smell was on his neck and shirt and hands. She felt him smooth her hair down. The hair crackled with static electricity.
He didn't say anything. That was what she loved about him. He didn't talk when he knew he shouldn't talk. He was sensitive about certain things like this. When Faye had first met him, at a Hearing at the Ministry, she had thought that he was a vain presumptuous jerk like most of the guys she had ever dated. It turned out he wasn't. That was why they had moved in together after talking about it for a while. Charlie understood about her Muggle career and her relationship with her parents. He understood that she needed to be taken care of sometimes, he understood that she'd take care of you if you needed it. He understood about her lifestyle, the no-TV-almost- vegan lifestyle. He understood that she had mood swings.
What did she understand about him? She understood that he needed to have someone to take care of, she understood that he needed to be outside to be happy. She understood about his family and what went on with Percy. She understood about his thrill issues and why he had the career he did. She understood that he enjoyed danger.
A few minutes later, while she was half-asleep, he got up and went into the living room. If there was one thing Charlie was sensitive to, it was Faye's emotion. He hated it when she cried in front of him but he took care of her because he knew she needed it. He also knew that she'd resent him if he didn't.
He sat down in front of the TV that Faye insisted they have. Today, she had said, it looked very strange if someone didn't own a television. Charlie had agreed that they couldn't bring any large attention to themselves. Several of their paintings in the guest bedroom talked and the Degas portrait in the hall had the most insolent ballerinas he had ever met.
He flipped channels slowly, letting himself slowly see what was on each channel. There was nothing. A Lifetime movie, a talkshow, a how-to show. He paused at a likely program, apparently what was an adult cartoon. He watched it without much interest. In the back of his head, he was wondering about Julliard.
"Will she leave me?" he asked himself aloud. It was something that bothered him all the time, ever since she had returned from her trip. Her face was flushed as she told him what she had done. Her excitement didn't excite him but he acted excited because he didn't want to worry her. He didn't want her to worry about him. He had lived a long time without her; he could do it again.
If she left him, the flat would be filthy. It would have no fresh scent, no rude ballerinas. He wouldn't find her panties on the bathroom rug. He'd wear dirty clothes all the time, he'd eat TV dinners without a TV. He'd sleep in a cold bed with grimy sheets and disgusting ideas in his head. Faye had cleaned him, if that's what you wanted to say. She did his laundry, cooked pretty often, had sex with him. She gave him a lot.
He turned the TV off and searched through the phone book for a decent delivery place. He found some Chinese and ordered that. The order took about forty-five minutes to deliver. Charlie paid with a fistful of money. The man didn't even bother to count it; he took it gratefully and left.
Charlie woke Faye up gently. "Hey..." He shook her elbow gently. Her eyes flew open. "I ordered Chinese if you want some."
She nodded. "Um...yeah...I'll be there in a minute."
He nodded and left so she could change.
She pulled on one of his sweatshirts and pajama pants. Her reflection in the mirror looked terrible. She wondered if Charlie felt repulsed when he saw her.
The smell of the food made her sick to her stomach.
"I think I'll shower," she told him. He nodded, eating shrimp out of a white carton.
She turned on the hot shower and let the steamy water fall over her back.
She reviewed:
iStep 1. Hypothesis- I am special. I am going to be the next Martha Graham. I will change the dance world.
Step 2. Procedure- Acquire primary and secondary dance skills. Join a dance company. Start a dance company. Dance in national shows. Maintain a crushing curricular load.
Step 3. Results-failure
Step 4. Retrace steps. Procedure flawless.
Step 5. Conclusion-hypothesis is incorrect. I am a loser./i
So simple.
She swallowed. That was when she heard Charlie knocking.
"Faye!" he was yelling. That was all she could hear. She couldn't understand what he was saying. Was he speaking German? That's what it sounded like.
He knocked again. She ignored him. Instead, she picked up the razor and grabbed the bar of soap. She lathered up her leg and shaved it without one nick. Then she shaved her other leg. Charlie was still saying something. She acted like she didn't hear him. She shaved under her arms, then rinsed off. She wrapped her towel around her and unlocked the door. Charlie came bursting in.
"Faye!" he said, sounding slightly angry. "Why didn't you answer me?"
"I didn't hear you," she lied.
He knew she was lying. He ignored that factor. "Faye...your mum just called..."
Faye stared at him. "My imom/i just called? You're shitting me."
"I'm not," he told her. "She asked me if she could talk to you."
"Why would she want to do that?" Faye asked him. "She thinks you're a Devil- child and I'm your big whore."
Charlie shook his head. "Your dad just collapsed right now. They think he might have an aneurysm."
Faye nodded. "Riiiight. What'd she really want?"
He looked dead serious and it scared her. "I'm not joking."
"I know you're not."
She stood stock still, water dripping from her hair onto her back and then soaking into the towel. Charlie looked at her carefully. She looked like she'd just about had enough. Everything was falling apart on her.
"Where is he right now?" she asked him.
"The Muggle hospital where Dad was during his recovery," Charlie said. "Your mum said in room 303. She wants you to visit."
Faye shrugged. "But she hates me."
"She's your mother."
"That doesn't stop her from hating me."
"It does."
Faye sighed. "Let me get dressed," she said. "I'll be right out."
"Do you want to Apparate?" he asked.
"That'd be fine," Faye said. "But where?"
"Uh...in the restrooms of that restaurant in the lobby..."
"Fine. Lemme change."
He left. She walked to the bedroom and wore a long dark blue skirt and bright yellow tank top. Her father always loved intense colors. She pulled a white zip-up hoodie over it and wore flip-flops, even though she knew it would be freezing outside.
Charlie raised his eyebrows at her bright clothing but didn't say anything.
"I'll go first," she said. She waved her wand and hissed, "iApparatio!/i" She found herself in a stall in a fragrant restroom. The smell was like roses or something strange. It choked her. Charlie should have Apparated by now. Faye tucked her wand into her purse and stepped out. The restroom was deserted. She saw herself in the mirror. Her hair was still wet. She waved her wand at it and it was perfectly dry and straight.
She found Charlie waiting for her.
"Let's go," he said. She took a deep breath and grabbed his hand. It would feel very strange seeing her parents after two years...
Room 303 was on the third floor. It was the Intensive Care Unit. Charlie's grip tightened on her hand as the woman at the front desk gave them passes that allowed them to get past the security doors.
Faye thanked her softly and they took the elevator up.
"I hate the smell of hospitals," she told Charlie. "They smell so clean it makes me ill."
He smiled at her and squeezed her arm lightly. She felt suddenly very nervous.
The woman at the desk at the ICU smiled at them and asked to see their passes.
"She's been waiting for you," she told Faye.
Faye nodded. "How long have they been in here?"
"About forty-five minutes."
Faye exchanged scared glances with Charlie. He nodded assuringly.
The room came way too fast.
"Do you want me to stay out here?" he asked her.
"No, come with me," she pleaded.
"But your mom-"
"She doesn't matter right now."
Charlie shrugged and walked into the room with Faye. The scene, Faye knew, would remained burned into her eyes forever. Her father's hair had gotten shockingly white. Her mother's face had become severely creased. Her father was lying in bed with tubes all over him, his eyes open but completely vacant. Her mother was seated in a chair next to the bed.
Faye didn't know why she said what she said next. "Mommy?"
Her mother turned around. Her eyes were completely red. "Faye..." She practically breathed it.
They stood for what seemed like forever looking at each other.
"Oh, Faye," her mother said, smiling slightly. "You've changed."
Faye touched her hair. She knew it was much shorter and neater.
"You too," Faye said helpfully. She reached behind herself and pulled Charlie front by his jacket. "You remember Charlie?"
Of course she remembered Charlie. That was the last thing they had fought about. Charlie knew that. Faye's mother smiled. "Yes," she said. "It's good to see you."
"You too," Charlie offered, though at the moment it was terrible for them to see each other.
Faye's eyes drifted over to the hospital bed. Her father's vacant eyes were staring at her. She felt a lump in her throat. "Dad..." she croaked.
"You don't have to do this," Charlie whispered to her.
"Yes, I do," she replied.
Her mother was watching her intently. "He said your name a while ago," she said. "That's when I called."
Faye felt terribly guilty.
Charlie gently steered to the bedside. Faye looked down in disgust and mourning and horrifying enthrallment. This was her father.
His eyes were still empty, but they had followed her. They moved to Charlie to Faye and back to Charlie and then finally rested on Faye. His mouth moved and Faye saw it. She bit her lip and tasted blood. She couldn't cry. She wouldn't cry. Not now, not in front of her mother and Charlie and a strange nurse who had come to see progress. It turned out that there was none.
"Faye..." This escaped out of her father's throat. "Faye."
Faye felt tears well up in her eyes. "Hi, Daddy," she told him. "Hi."
Charlie squeezed her shoulder in a comforting way.
"The nurse encouraged me to talk to him," her mother said helpfully from behind. Faye nodded. She looked at her father and saw that he had closed his eyes. Had he been waiting for her to come?
"Talk to him," Charlie encouraged her from behind.
"No," she said, surprised by how firm and strong her voice was. "No. He can't understand me anyway. We're leaving. In a cab."
"But-"
"We're leaving," she ordered.
Faye walked out of the hospital room, ignoring her mother completely. Charlie ran after her after a few apologetic words to her mother.
"That's was igreat/i of you," Charlie said sarcastically. "They're your parents, Faye."
"Yes, they are," she replied. "And he's dying. So just leave me alone, okay?"
They hailed a cab outside and drove home in silence. Their cab driver was very conversational, but he got the hint when Faye politely asked him to shut up.