Chapter 4: Dancing Freedom and Bruised Slavery
The first day was hard. It was painful. Celestine learned dance moves early in the morning. She was fitted to three costumes, and was showed where and how to perform in each dance hall. She learned the protocol with costumers; where to take them after the show, what sort of attitude she should have. Satine spent the day in the gardens with the other children of some of the women. Madame Gabrielle watched them. While Celestine still felt trapped…
…Satine felt a freedom completely new to her.
"Ow!" Satine shouted. The boy who pulled her hair laughed manically. "Don't do that!" she scolded.
She chased after him.
"Hey!" said another boy of dark skin, "Leaver her alone!" He stood between the chubby boy who pulled Satine's hair and Satine.
Satine ignored him and ran towards her attacker. She jumped on top of him. She kept hitting him, expecting for Madame Gabrielle to peel her off of the boy and reprimand her. But the woman only laughed.
The boy was screaming. Satine was shouting.
"Don't touch me ever again, you brute. My mother will kill you if you touch me again!" Satine yelled.
The other boy went to Satine and pulled her from the chubby boy, wailing in fright.
"Don't mind Alon," said the boy.
Satine wiped tears from her cheeks. She didn't know why she was crying. She suddenly felt fear over-wash her.
"The people here call me Chocolat. What is your name?" he asked,
"Satine," she said quietly.
"Come over to my dancing tree!" he exclaimed. Chocolat wore red, silk pants, but no shirt or shoes. His head was shaved and he had very white teeth. The leaves of the tree standing over him and Satine were bright green. The sun shown through each vein, flowing of green liquid. Satine forgot her fear at that sight of them. She lightly touched one with the tips of her fingers.
"Why is it a dancing tree?" Satine asked.
"I dance underneath it," Chocolat said, "But it doesn't work very well. I have no music to dance to."
"I can sing a song!" Satine exclaimed.
"You can sing?" Chocolat asked.
"A little. My mother gave me lessons," she said proudly.
Chocolat smiled. "Sing then," he said, putting on a pair of black, flat shoes.
"Those shoes look funny," Satine said, "They're soft."
"They're special dance shoes that Mama made for me," the boy said.
"Oh."
"Alright," Chocolat said, standing, "Go ahead…sing."
Satine opened her mouth and sang a dance song she had heard at her Uncle's once. Chocolat started dancing. Each move fluid, melded with the notes from Satine's mouth. His silk, red pants flashed in the light. He smiled, frowned, made a different expression on his face that matched the words to the song. Satine began to make expressions as well. By the end of her song, she felt an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment and excitement.
"You're good," Satine told Chocolat.
"So are you," Chocolat said, "Are we friends now?"
Satine smiled and nodded. "Will you teach me how to dance?"
"Yes," the boy said, "Tonight, when all of the people come, we can sneak in. I'll show you all of the people who dance. We'll work there someday."
"What do you mean? How do you know we'll work there?" Satine asked.
"Harold talks about it all the time," Chocolat explained," He always tells me how he wants me to be a dancer in the club when I grow up."
"Well, when I am grown up," Satine said, holding her head up, "I am going to be an actress. I won't be a dancer in Uncle Harold's club."
"Actresses have to dance," said Chocolat, "And sing. And Mama says that all the women here have to act.
"Why?" Satine asked.
"I'll explain."
Celestine tiredly walked into her apartment. She wore a flushed-pink silk gown. A costume. Her hair was done up, make-up heavily places across her face, jewels dangling from her ears, neck and wrist. A mask.
Satine was fast asleep on the bed. Only one lamp burned. Celestine sat beside her daughter for a moment. She stroked the fine red hair and the pale face. She laid a light kiss on the girl's temple.
She went to the small washroom off of the main room and closed the curtain. She stripped herself of the silk, lace, fur, clips and jewels. She stood in from of the dirty mirror naked. Her pelvis was already starting to bruise. There were finger marks upon her arms. Her face looked distorted, the make-up was smeared. She filled the washtub with buckets of lukewarm water. She stepped in.
And she wept.
Satine awoke and heard violent sobs.