May you be emptied out, may your heart break not in half, but wide open in a thousand places, and may the waters of the world pour from each crevice, washing you clean.
-The Morrigan, .
Not a fan of being in the wrong, I decided not to let Erik trash my whole evening and joined the other Opera employees at a party in the lower class, where I belonged. Screw Erik. He doesn't understand anything.
I was on top of the world. Music, loud, obnoxious and fast, surged through the small cramped room, making bones rattle. It felt wonderful to be dancing to reels and jigs again…skirts hiked up, loose curls clinging to my sweaty face, folks whistling to show admiration and clapping along for encouragement—how very unladylike. Excellent. I never wanted to be one, anyway. Screw Erik.
The reel ended with me toppling off the table I'd been dancing on top of. People applauded and cheered, some one handed me a drink. How many have I had, now? Blackcap—who had handed me the drink—asked me the same thing.
"Just how steamboated* are you, Maggie?"
I smiled. "Enough to be funny. In a bit I'll be drunk enough not to be funny."
He laughed heartily, as did I until I snorted, which sent him howling. "You're one hell of a gal."
I couldn't believe how well everything had turned out. By midnight, everyone-upstairs and down- had removed their masks to reveal their true identity. After the ugly events with Erik (and two or three shots of whiskey) I laughed at the ironic thought of revealing my true identity. What real reason did I have for hiding it any longer? None. No more poker face, no more lies. How exhausting this whole act had been. So, I did it. I'd informed Jacques beforehand and he stood by my side through the entire confession. Needless to say, everyone was certainly dumbstruck, but the shock wore off quickly and we all had a good laugh about it. They treated me no different just because I was a girl. The thought had me grinning like a fool and I slid off the stool I'd taken up next to Black Cap, fully intent on keeping the festivities going.
"Come on, Ol' Salty dog! Play me another!" Old Salty nodded amusedly and he and his fellow musicians struck up St. Anne's Reel.
"Woo hoo! That's the ticket! That's the cherry on the sundae, that is!"
I stumbled into a few improvised steps but discovered my brain power was wearing down as I staggered into a couple kissing in a corner. "Beg yer pardon," I drawled. Someone took me gently by the arm.
"You're the first woman I know to succeed in being belle of the ball twice in one night."
"Edel?...Edel! What are youuu doing here? You shouldn't be down here." I wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"It's a good thing I am. Here, Jacques, give me a hand." She nodded to Jacques who took the arm lounging on Edel's shoulder.
"Alright, I think it's time to go to bed and watch the eyelid circus."
"Awwwe, don't be a spoil-sport Jacques." I brought my face close to his. "We are young and BURNING with life!"
Jacques wrinkled his nose. "Right now, your breath is burning—with alcohol. Let's go."
"Good night and joy be with ye all!" With a stupid smile plastered on my face I leaned towards Black Cap on the way out. "You know, you're all the best friends a girl could have."
Jacques tugged on my arm. "Come on, Mags." I let him and Edel practically drag me out, one on either side, supporting my weight. I leaned my head on Jacques's shoulder. "You're rather adorable when you try to be bossy." I laughed.
He smiled but said nothing, focused on keeping me upright. What fine friends, indeed…loyal, accepting, non-judgmental friends. Did I mention, screw Erik?
It felt like we'd walked forever, but that must've been the liquor weighing down my legs, turning them to jelly. "Really mates, I'm good to go another round!" I assured.
"All good things must come to an end. You've more than enough of the good stuff." Edel scolded.
"Nonsense, woman!" I stopped and squinted at her as if I just then recognized her. "You left me."
"What?"
"That's right, YOU left me. If you hadn't, I wouldn't be so goddamn sloshed as I am right now. Thanks a heap!"
"I'll take her from here." Jacques murmured, prodding me along.
"I'll not be taken from anywhere! You two…you're in this together! The whole bloomin' Opera's against me! Damn French—,"
"Are you sure?"
"Fed me to the wolves, leaving me in a mob like that, you did—,"
"Quite. Thanks, Edel. Bonne nuit."
"Bonne nuit, Jacques."
"Yes, BONNE NEW-EET! Why can't you crazy bastards just say it the way it's spelled out? For godsake, just say what you mean! It's no wonder half the world can't understand a word you're sayin'…romantic language my—,"
Edel must've been long out of earshot by then, but that didn't cease my ramblings, even after Jacques nudged me through the door leading to the cellars.
The party was close to the cellars, so in reality, we didn't have to go very far, thankfully. Jacques was helping me down some stairs when I began babbling again about things I wish I'd left alone.
"You and Jo were great pals, weren't ya? Bloody boon companions!"
"That, we were."
"You two must've shared a lot of things—,"
"Just about everything."
"—Your dreams, your goals…your clothes, obviously…your deepest darkest secrets…"
"Yes."
"So, what was his?"
Silence.
"Awe, come now, Jacques. Who am I honestly going to tell? Better yet, why would it matter? He's dead, ain't he?"
"Stop it, Maggie." Jacques shook me slightly, tightening his grip on my arm.
I pushed his hand away, momentarily losing my balance before he caught me again.
"You think I don't see it? The faces people make when I bring up his name? Christ, Jacques, I didn't paddle up the English Channel in a paper boat! I know somethin's bein' kept from me."
He gave a weary sigh. "You're drunk. The sooner we get you to bed, the better…for both of us."
"You're not goin' to tell me, are ya?" I laughed.
"There's nothing to tell. It's all in your head, Magpie."
"Don't call me that!" Again I violently shoved him away and he stumbled down the last two steps. "Only Jo calls me that!"
"Like you said, Mags, He's. Not. Here. Though, the sight of you right now probably has him turning in his grave."
I stood stalk-still, stunned that Jacques—sweet, thoughtful Jacques—had lost his temper with me. Jacques rarely, if ever, lashed out at anyone in anger. Was I truly that much of a mess? Ashamed at the thought of bringing out the worst in Jacques, as well as humbled by his words, I didn't put up a fight as he quietly led me to bed.
It was absolute hell removing that costume and all the makeup! I was determined to undo the corset myself, but had a devil of a time with the damned laces and clasps that I finally entrusted the task to Jacques, who turned his head once it was undone until I pulled on my nightdress. Looking at my reflection in a small hand mirror I "borrowed" from the prop table for Faust, I could see my face was pink from scrubbing away remnants of the feathered mask. Edel's scarlet lip paint had been rubbed away into a faint ruby tint. I collapsed on the bed, feeling like lead, my mind had gone rather fuzzy.
"What time is it?" I yawned as Jacques pulled me up in order to draw back the covers. I flopped back down and Jacques tucked me in.
"Don't know. Two—maybe half past."
"Jesus."
"Exactly. Good night, Maggie." He turned to leave. I watched him, lazily.
"Aren't you going to ask what the hell happened tonight? I'm sure you're dyin' to know."
He sighed and turned around. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"I want to. It's quite the classic fairytale, really. A disfavored, aimless girl put on a fancy dress, walked into a palace and danced with a prince…the key points to every faerie story, am I right?"
"How does it end?" Jacques asked calmly.
"The prince throws his arms around her," my arms flailed about in exaggerated emotion, "holds her close and says, MAGGIE, YOU WICKED, DARLING GIRL! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE? I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT YOU!""
I then laughed so hard and so loud that Jacques came over to shush me. Once my raucous laughter subsided, so did my liquor-induced mirth. I soberly corrected my story.
"Oh, I'd never hear those words if I lived to be a hundred and one. No, here's how the story really ends: The prince danced with the poor foolish girl, but then a real princess entered the scene, and the prince, naturally, fell in love with her."
Again, that wave of defeat and rejection washed over me and I rolled over onto my side, facing the wall.
"And what of the pitiable girl?"
"What about her?" I replied bitterly, "just a foolish inconsequential wretch playing dress-up, who wandered into the palace by mistake."
Jacques stood silently for a long moment before softly responding, "There's more to you than meets the eye, Maggie." The door clicked shut and the room was deathly quiet again. He had gone. I pondered his parting words briefly. 'What the hell did that mean?" Too tired and too drunk to care, I let the thought float away into blissful sleep.
That night's nightmare was of me, skating on a frozen pond in front of dozens of people. I was beautiful, graceful, and skated and leaped as lightly as a faerie. Somehow, I was caught in a story and it seemed nothing else existed beyond this pond—like I was trapped in a snowglobe. I was a princess, in love with—some creature, I can't recall what it was, only that he wore the face of innocence and he loved me. Our dance showed us playing and laughing together, enjoying each other's company.
Suddenly, a large snake appeared out of nowhere, coiled in the middle of the pond. He had watched us from the sidelines and became captivated, even obsessed with me. The snake declared no one else could have me, I belonged to him alone. He warned me to stay away from the one I loved or I would never be free to skate and dance as I wished. Secretly, I would meet my love, despite the danger.
The snake found and appeared again in a jealous rage. He chased after me and managed to nip me on the leg. I fell in pain and watched, terrified, as the furious snake slithered over, bared his long thick fangs and sunk them into my stomach. I didn't die, even as he dragged me away with his fangs still lodged in my gut, but I could feel it. The pain was excruciating, so excruciating that it woke me up.
It took a foggy second to realize where I was before the stabbing pain attacked me again. I curled up, clutching my belly, which bore neither fangs nor blood upon close inspection, and moaned. The events of the night came flooding back and I remembered the culprits behind this agonizing stomachache. Erik and alcohol do not mix. I felt the sudden urge to vomit. Hastily, I threw off the covers and stood up—falling back onto the mattress as I did so. Fighting the overbearing dizziness I clambered back up and to the door. I spotted a mop bucket near the stairwell, promptly fell on my knees, leaned over it and retched. Screw Erik.
A/N: Still alive and kickin' thanks for the wonderful reviews on my last chapter, that's like sunshine on my frickin' shoulders! Already one paragraph into the next chapter, hoping to get it out before classes start next week.
*steamboated: drunk, intoxicated, trashed.