I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.
But this isn't about the freak show. This is a love story.
In the Absence of Light, Darkness Prevails
The Wilting Heart
She haunted the ship schedules daily as well as the post office near the Stairs of Separation.
She paced, she worried, she wondered.
Except for the week she had so cruelly abandoned him in her misguided anger, Elsa had not been without the daily company of Massimo Dolcefino in two years.
Before this life changing journey.
She had grown to depend on his kind, dark eyes. His quiet, encouraging smiles. His soothing dulcet tones.
She had grown to love him deeply and depend on him.
For the continuation of her being, both physical and emotional.
And now, he was no longer by her side.
And she missed him so.
She would hear whispers of his voice and turn quickly to look behind her.
Only to find the phantom surrushes resided only within her mind.
Her aching heart would send her wafts of his natural musk and she would breathe him in again.
But he would not be there.
She would feel his hands, his lips, his body caressing her, pressing to her.
Only to awaken from her dreams alone.
She kept it all inside, spoke to no one at all of him.
And thought she would go mad with loneliness and heartbreaking despair.
But she continued on.
With the tang of salt air in her nose and the sounds of other wandering souls filling her ears.
And waiting, waiting, waiting for her release from Ellis Island.
And waiting, waiting, waiting for her new life in America to begin.
And waiting, waiting, waiting for Massimo Dolcefino to come to her.
But he never did.
Eventually, in an effort to escape her own monotony and growing despair, she reached out to those less able and less strong than she.
She sat with the lonely ones as they wept and wailed.
Shared her food with the expectant mothers provided meager portions by caregivers charged to feed multitudes.
Comforted the crying children with stories and brushed the hair of young girls waiting alone.
Sang gently to the old women as they lay sick in the infirmary.
Hid the secret of her wooden legs until her stumps were sore and aching.
Locked away her dark past from everyone, fearing to be labeled a contemptible freak whore.
She waited at the Kissing Post for hours upon hours each time a ship from across the Atlantic made port.
She carefully applied her makeup on these days. Curled her hair to perfection.
And wore her red dress.
The dress she wanted him to see her in after so long away.
Rich red adorned with swirling, white floral designs.
Cap sleeves.
Gathered, modest bosom leading down to a slim waist encircled with a narrow belt that flowed with a full skirt down just past her knees.
And, of course, the red shoes Massimo had first given her.
And she waited.
Day after day.
And Massimo Dolcefino did not come.
Nor did he send any sort of communication whatsoever.
And yet she continued to wait.
And hope.
"He not come."
A heavily accented voice. Hungarian, perhaps. Or maybe of Slavic origin.
Elsa looked around at the uninvited intrusion irritably.
She sat in the area of the Kissing Post as she did every time a ship from Europe was docked in New York Harbor.
And saw the gypsy.
A decidedly round woman wrapped thickly in generous skirts and flowing blouses.
She had a few gold teeth and long, dark hair.
Shocking eyes of light green irises striated with yellow and rimmed with blue.
"Excuse me?"
The woman wrapped her multi-colored shawl tighter around her and spoke again.
"No, he not come. You wait every day. He not come."
Elsa's stomach of cheese and bread quavered at the pronouncement of this stranger who had spoken the truth she had been adamantly shunning for weeks.
"You wait long enough. Time to leave this place of waiting and staying. Time to go."
Elsa stared at this woman, her brown eyes unexpectedly filling with tears.
She tried to speak calmly, with confidence.
"No, he is coming. He is just . . . delayed."
She did not entirely succeed.
The gypsy woman with the hypnotizing eyes shook her head kindly.
"If he good man, he want you leave here. Want you live."
Elsa's lips trembled until she pressed them resolutely together. Gathered herself together with enormous effort.
And spoke.
"He is a good man. And he is coming."
A voice which had lain dormant up until this point now awoke in her head.
And began to whisper her silent doubtings.
Is he coming?
Or was this voyage just an excuse to finally rid himself of me?
No, no, Massimo cares and loves me. He truly does.
Did something happen to him?
Did they find him?
Is he gone now?
What would she do if he never appeared? She could not stay here forever. Hundreds, sometimes thousands, of new immigrants arrived every day.
She would soon be discharged out into the world. And then she would be on her own.
Where was she to go? What was she to do?
Immigrant boarding houses.
Massimo had spoken to her of those.
They were safe places for single immigrant women, providing food and shelter.
And then what?
Her accent alone made her a target for those Americans who feared the Nazi march on the world.
So she would be hard pressed to procure respectable employment for herself.
What would she do?
A job as a cleaning woman for more well-to-do ladies? Mopping up their messes? Scrubbing their floors?
No, even if her pride would allow her such a low and base work, her legs would not allow her to bend and toil for hours upon hours and days upon days.
A freak prostitute, whoring herself out in the back alleys of New York for little pay, much degradation, and high risk of disease?
No.
Whether or not Massimo ever came for her (though he would, she knew he would), she must be independent and capable of taking care of herself.
But how?
What could she do?
What was she?
She was a woman.
Just a woman.
What could she do?
She could cook.
A little.
She could clean.
Some.
What did she want?
She wanted Massimo.
To be with him.
His wife, his companion, his partner.
Care for him. Love him.
Assist him with his carpentry work as she had done so gladly in Munich.
But if he was gone, if he never came for her, what then would she do?
What had she been before Massimo?
A dominatrix whore to sick, sadistic men.
No. That was over. Never again.
Before that, before she had gotten lost in that, what had she been? What had she aspired to be?
A performer.
An actor on stage, a singer.
Someone to be admired, desired, emulated.
Her, on stage.
That's what she had always wanted to be.
But how would she do that in America?
And should she, a cripple, even try?
Finally, she looked up.
Apparently only a few seconds had passed as she turned everything over in her mind. Seeking answers. Seeking direction. Seeking a hope she could not find.
The gypsy woman was still there.
Still gently smiling.
Still speaking truths she could not possibly know.
"He not come. You not wait. Time to go now. Time to live."
Elsa floundered within herself, still wanting to believe her carpenter savior was just around the corner.
"But . . . what will I do?" she asked this woman whom she had never met before. "Where will I go?"
The woman patted her ample chest.
"With me. Come. We go. Boston. Carnival. Family."
Boston. What was Boston? Where was Boston?
"But what will I do in Boston?" Elsa asked, feeling small and childish to this mysterious creature.
The woman smiled, flashing a gold tooth.
"Sing? Dance?"
She flipped a card from nowhere in front of Elsa's very eyes and vanished it in mid-air. Only to appear it again in her other hand.
"Magic?"
Elsa sat, frozen in her spot, her resolve to wait crumbling, collapsing in on itself.
Massimo. Massimo was still out there. Somewhere beyond her reach.
Massimo was there.
But not here.
She was alone.
"Come. We go," the lady urged, holding out her hand in proffered friendship.
Elsa Mars slowly rose to her wooden legs, scouring the crowd once more for her beloved Italian .
Who was nowhere in sight.
And then, she went.
Slowly, sadly.
With love dying in her wilting heart and darkness growing in the pit of her soul once more.
She went.
Well, there you have it, gentle readers. Elsa is gone. I guess she couldn't wait forever. And she did say in 'Freak Show' that she fell in with gypsies and went to a carnival type thing in Boston, right?
Now we know that by this time, Massimo has been caught by Hans Groper and has no way of getting to Elsa or making contact with her. But she does not know that and he has become her whole world.
Only to have it evaporate before her like mist.
Wonder what that does to a person?
Eventually turns one into Elsa Mars of 'Fraulein Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities', I'd say. Unfulfilled and always wanting. But unable to face her true feelings or how she came to be. In her case anyway.
Or you just make your own judgments, yeah? ;)
Oh and the gypsy's eyes? Mine since birth. I couldn't help it. *shrugs sheepishly*
So thanks to brigid1318, foreverglfan88, my mystery guest for these great reviews!
See you tomorrow for the final chapter.
Bring your snuggies and your blankies. This one's gonna hurt, I won't lie.