AN: It took me a while, but at least it's bigger than usual to make up for it, right?
Saturday was kind of a bust for telling stories. We had to help fix a machine breakdown at Al's. Not our new machine, but it needed some urgent fabrication, and we had all the stuff ready. it also meant we were dead tired having worked several hours of overtime to get the fix in place. Because we were not going to be working on Sunday. Joan was disappointed, given where we left, but I promised to tell her in the morning.
Well, when both of us woke up, at least.
Because let's be honest, a Sunday morning, with light snow, and a warm blanket is the best time to sleep in. Especially if your husband is in the mood too. so me and him had a late breakfast, and caught a disapproving look from Joan.
"Like you wouldn't if Tina was here…" I wink at her. She nearly dropped her phone.
"Mom!"
"Go ahead, tell me…" I continue to tease. "Or maybe even… Bex…?"
"Maybe." She gives me a wicked grin.
I still have no real idea of what they're doing, aside from the fact that they meet with each other, and are still friends. And that Joan and Tina are still very close. She's told me nothing, however. She hasn't told Kristoff much either. They really do want to work it out on their own. I mentioned before that she's set a pretty solid boundary around this one—and I'm going to respect it. But it doesn't mean I can't ask. Or tease, without having any useful information to as ammunition.
"You'll tell me after breakfast?" She's looking up at me now.
I nod.
Breakfast is kind of rushed, but I know she's waiting out there, and I have promised her this. So after breakfast it's back to the couch, a big blanket draped over our legs.
"Elsa's performance that night was truly spectacular—the review in the paper said so, even." I give her a big smile, talking with my hands as well. "But I guess that's getting a little bit ahead of everything."
–∞–
I was lucky to have a ticket for a box seat, though not incredibly close to the stage—Elsa had offered me the choice of that, or something in the front row. It actually worked better, taking the box seat further back, because I could see more, and take more in. The crowd murmured in the packed hall, and the attendant had to ask twice for silence before the curtain was raised. As the curtain was raised I saw the backdrop behind it—something I'd only caught glimpses of when Elsa showed me occasional pictures of the dance troupe, or her own practice.
It was Greek—I recognised some of the letters. Also the general style of the painted buildings. The spotlights rose like the sun, and a single doorway was illuminated. The cast walked out from that doorway, and at first I only recognised Elsa from her costume. The others took up places around the stage, then backdrop and props were moved around as the dance began. It was more than a simple walk at least. Elsa moved with surety and grace from the houses to the forest, several trees and rocks keeping pace with her, occasionally switching places. A simple, vibrant tune played in the background, strings and piano, with a little percussion.
I was wondering why they employed the actual cast for that instead of stage-hands or something. Then three of the dancers—all wearing black behind the props—leapt into the air. I heard machinery operating, and as Elsa jumped, the ribbons trailed out by the other dancers floated in the air, and she seemed to float through a portal. At the same time another backdrop had been lowered from above, painted with stones, and green and blue flames, along with a curious symbol that I later learned was the seal of the underworld.
The music changed, heavy drums, almost tribal, combined with skirling violins. Dancers in billowing green and blue began to crowd around her, and instead of running or pushing them away, she sat, head cocked as if she wanted to listen to them. They danced around her, a complicated piece with many near collisions. Elsa rose, and beckoned around her. The other dancers all knelt and pointed to the backdrop, and the seal of the underworld. Elsa spun around, then leapt across a river of fabric I'd missed being unfurled while distracted by the dance.
The dancers shuffled off stage, and Elsa followed them, her own dance seeming unfinished, paused mid-step. The music had stopped mid-beat, then picked up with a slowly building melody I couldn't identify. The backdrop lifted, and the Greek town was visible again. An older woman, wearing an outfit similar to Elsa's, but with her hair tied back and up, walked through the town. At the far end of the stage I saw something rising on a platform. The woman moved with purpose towards this, and toward the young woman who stood there in a simple robe, holding a shallow bowl. Something was sprinkled into the bowl, and half of the curtain for the underworld backdrop fell across the opposite end of the stage.
Elsa tucked and rolled, her dance now surrounded by those in blue and green. The older woman turned to stare, a pirouette turning into a feigned stumble, caught by the young woman. The oracle. I had finally started to put pieces together about the story. I also realised I should have paid more attention when Elsa explained the details of the plot to me—her parts, anyway. So, oracle. Elsa in the underworld. Older woman 'fainting'—which must have been Elsa's character's mother.
Which meant the man walking on to stage in the dark toga and with blue painted skin must be Hades. Which, for some reason, reminded me of Doctor Spiros. The music changed to an almost ominous dirge. Elsa's mother danced around Hades, her wild gestures of confusion, accusation, and threat. Hades caught her, arrested her momentum, then gestured towards Elsa and the other dancers with an open hand. The music stopped.
He didn't know either.
In the silence, he strode from one side of the stage to the other, and on the underworld side blacklights lit up hidden patterns on his toga. Elsa leapt into the air, and he caught her with a practiced motion, gently setting her down on the Greek side of the stage. He continued to walk, shooing the other dancers away as the backdrop of the underworld lifted away. Elsa faced her character's mother, then turned away, a perfect imitation of teenage pique. A new melody started playing, sharp notes accompanied by heavy drums. Something swelling, building to a crescendo.
A hand on Elsa's shoulder forced her back. Another man, young, attractive, walked onto the stage through the door in the Greek backdrop. Elsa shook her head and turned to run. The music upped the tempo, almost frantic, heavy with percussion. The mother grabbed her hand, yanking her back. Elsa turned the momentum into a fall, and a spring to her feet, fist passing a hair's breadth from her mother's face. A slap from her mother, ducked and avoided. An elbow from Elsa, deflected, forcing her away. I lost track of what they were doing, entranced by the choreography of the fight. At last I understood why Elsa needed so much practice. Movement sharp and precise, then fluid and twisting.
I hadn't noticed that the whole audience was silent for the spectacle of the fight. Then the slap that landed against her mother's cheek. It looked like Elsa had pulled it at the last second, the sound much louder than it should have been—she told me later about the audio guys sometimes struggling with that cue. The music started again, a frantic rush as Elsa danced across the stage, in leaps and dives to avoid the embrace of the attractive man or the grasping hands of her mother.
The dancers in blue and green returned, trailing ribbons behind them. Many more ribbons than before, bright, satin blue and iridescent silver. The music swelled to a roaring crescendo. The ribbons flicked into the air, and Elsa jumped between them. Those chasing her stopped at the edge of the ribbons, falling to their knees. Silence. The stage curtain fell. Intermission.
I stretched, and leaned to the side, getting the crick out of my neck. The box seat, being on the side of the theatre, meant that I wasn't looking directly at the stage. I turned when I heard a knock at the entrance to the box. Elsa stood there, sweat forming a sheen down her face and neck, her hair smoothed down into a simple ponytail. She was still wearing her costume.
"I don't have long before I have to change for the next act."
"I should have paid more attention when you explained the plot." I smiled for her, then my grin turned sheepish. "I kinda forgot your character's name."
"Persephone," she placed an admonishing finger against my nose. "Daughter of Demeter."
She leaned over me, and I was suddenly aware of how tall she was. I swallowed, because—in that moment—anyone looking up from the ground would see what looked like her, on top of me. Dangerously close to me.
"You should have paid more attention," she straddled me in the seat. We were even closer, and I was worried about people elsewhere seeing us. She leaned in to kiss me, hesitating for a moment at my distress. She pulled back slightly, but our lips were still close.
I let out a breath, and somehow I smelled the sweetness of hers, and the salty tang of her sweat. So close to me. In public.
"Did I go too far?" She was pulling back further, and I looked up with regret. I liked looking up at her.
I shook my head slowly. "It just feels very public."
"Can I still kiss you?" So honest, and open, with that hint of vulnerability.
I pulled her down on top of me. I'd seen the fire in her eyes. I didn't care how sweaty she was, or if someone maybe saw us in that moment. I let her have what she wanted. I kissed her on the cheek as she extricated herself and her costume from my sudden embrace.
"I love you."
"I love you too," I winked at her. "I'd say 'break a leg', but…" I gestured towards her scar, just barely visible as she gathered the costume skirt.
She laughed, smiling brightly. "There's at least another fifteen minutes of intermission, and there's food available in the foyer, if you want it."
"You know what, a snack might be nice," I rose, and took her hand for a moment. "I'll see you after the show."
"I might be dead." She laughed softly. "Even with time off treatment, and exercise, it is taking it out of me."
"You can sleep on the way home," I smiled coyly. "I might even carry you up to my bed."
Elsa laughed, calling out quietly behind me. "You'd be making love to a starfish."
I had the good grace to blush for her.
–∞–
"Mom, I swear sometimes you talk about Elsa like you two were a couple of…" I can see the blush and the realisation on Joan's face. She already knows just how much she's incriminated herself by stopping there. "You're gonna make me say it, aren't you?"
"No, actually, I'm not." I give her a smile and a quick one-armed hug. "We both know we've done things with people we like. You don't have to talk about it—and I'm trying to rein it in a bit when I talk about it. Just sometimes when you're being open, you can accidentally be a bit too open for some people, and wind up over-sharing."
"Well, you can." She stuck out her tongue.
"Fair." I shrugged. "Back to the story, after the intermission…"
–∞–
The curtain rose, showing a new underworld backdrop. Elsa—as Persephone—paced the side of the stage. Hades sat near the middle, not on a throne, but on a large rock. Several of the dancers in blue and green moved slowly around behind him, ribbons trailing against the floor of the stage. A few denuded prop trees completed the image. In the wings, the older woman playing Demeter, and the attractive man stood near Elsa. The music was a sombre piece, contemplative, calming.
Elsa stepped onto the stage, walking forward a few paces, facing the audience. Then, upon seeing Hades, she performed a backwards roll to end in a crouch, head low, not meeting his eyes. At a simple gesture she rose, and he strode over to meet her. He took her hand, and for a moment their feet shuffled against the stage before a dance began. The actor playing Hades stepped back and spread his arms wide—then gestured to the side of the stage where Demeter waited.
I almost giggled at the use of that harp leitmotif—you know the one, the one they always use for dream sequences and memories in old shows. I knew it had been deliberate. Elsa—as Persephone—and the older actress playing Demeter faced off against each other, the actor playing Hades standing off to one side, gesturing to Elsa. The music was a slow melody with an underlying beat. On certain beats Elsa and the older woman held their stances, Hades gesturing softly between them. Elsa would nod or shake her head. I realised it was meant to be a discussion, in dance.
Then Demeter left, and was replaced by the attractive young man, his hand clasped around Elsa's. Here the actor playing Hades danced and stepped between them, his hand fell between them, parting them. Elsa smiled as the younger man scurried off into the wings. She gestured towards the centre of the stage. Then she danced, a slow waltz, with the king of the underworld. They broke apart, circling warily. Elsa took a tentative step forwards. So did Hades. Two steps each. The music was becoming softer, almost romantic.
They embraced, he stood at least a head taller than her, and leaned down, waiting. She stood on tip toe, lips brushing against his before she turned away and hid her face—but only from him. The audience could see her smile. I recognised the smile too. For a moment I felt both jealous and betrayed by that. I forced myself to take a breath. I knew in my heart that she would have told me about it, but, as I had admitted earlier, I should have paid more attention. I hadn't liked those feelings either. Not because they were negative emotions, but because they told me I still had work to do on myself. Some things I still needed to unlearn.
I looked back to the stage, and Elsa was being half-dragged away from Hades by Demeter. Next to Hades sat a pomegranate, untouched. I knew I'd probably just missed an important plot point, lost in my own head. At least I could ask Elsa about it later. Demeter dragged Elsa off the side of the stage, and a new backdrop was lowered from above—a different view of the Greek town. Elsa moved on her own, a slow, almost sullen dance, as she shied away from everyone that might touch her. Especially the attractive young man.
Who now wore a fine suit, instead of a toga. To me it seemed rather incongruous, but it certainly made a point. Especially when I saw Demeter placing a floral veil atop Elsa's head. I knew in my heart that one day I would get to do that too. Less floral though, something understated. Elsa would prefer that. I watched her run from the marriage, dancing gracefully across the stage, despite the weight of the extra costume she wore. She stopped, slamming both fists against the ground.
Pyrotechnics fired off, and in a flash of smoke Hades' actor rose through the stage. He offered Elsa—Persephone—his hand, and together they descended from the stage, the town backdrop falling in a crumpled heap as they did so. That little bit of theater helped distract from everyone else ducking away, or dancing between those wearing green and blue costumes. Ghosts, or spirits, I had finally figured out, given they were in the underworld.
The music became a dark melody as Elsa danced across the stage. It seemed her energy was unlimited, circling and dancing around Hades, who just managed to keep up with her. The dance made two circuits of the stage, Elsa occasionally stopping to claps the hand of a spirit, or nod gravely as their dances intertwined. And at the end of the dance, Hades went down on one knee. Elsa half-turned away. The music swelled, and paused. Elsa turned back. Because Hades was not asking for Persephone's hand.
He was offering her a crown.
After a moment's hesitation, Elsa took the crown and began a new dance. The spirits in blue and green danced beside her, following a half-step behind her routine. The way she moved across the stage, weaving between the spirits, with dives, rolls, and gymnastic springs. It wasn't the kind of dancing I knew—even though she'd showed me some practice routines. She seemed to be everywhere on stage at once, trailing out her own ribbons this time.
The music was rising to another crescendo, and the spirits began to crowd around Elsa, almost seeming to pull her down. The music seemed to stop for an instant. A momentary pause before a heavy beat kicked, and the melody sang out with increased urgency. I barely noticed that, because my eyes were fixed upon Elsa. The spirits crowding around her had been a distraction. Because shreds of her white dress now covered the stage.
She rose, crowned with Hades' gift. She wore a corset of rich scarlet, inlaid with gold lace around the bust and down the back. Her new dress was short, layers of red and black pleats that barely came down to her thighs. I swallowed. I fet light-headed. Blindsided, even. And even as my brain fought to catch up with what went on, my body had told me exactly how much it wanted hers in that moment. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, glad that this was, in fact, a private box. I blushed at the accidental double-entendre. I wasn't even sure it was accidental.
In my distraction I had missed something else, the stage now showing the Greek town again. The older actress playing Demeter moved with painful slowness, almost crawling, as she tried to find any sign of Persephone. The riggers performed that half-backdrop trick again, showing the town and the underworld. Demeter looked on in horror as Persephone began to eat a pomegranate. Hades sat beside her, and he talked with his hands, as if offering advice, or a warning. On the Greek side, snow began to fall, and Demeter turned away.
Elsa turned to look at the Greek side of the stage, then recoiled in shock. The pomegranate fell, unfinished. She ran to the dividing line and something forced her back. Demeter turned. They met across an invisible wall. Elsa reached out a hand, Demeter did the same. Then Elsa fell to her knees as Demeter walked away. Hades moved closer, sitting quietly to hug her. I hadn't reckoned on the emotions that little action would raise inside me either. I cursed myself for not paying better attention to Elsa's lengthy explanation of the story. I probably would have been better prepared for moments like this if I'd done so.
There was another dance, the music slow and mournful, almost grim. But it was also determined, patient. Elsa—as Persephone—was navigating the courts of the underworld. She made a part of it like her home, and the spirits thanked her for it. Even Hades was impressed. The dance itself was short, but the lights flickered and flowed, as if it was covering a great length of time. In the middle of the stage a portal rose on another trap door.
Hades held her hands as she approached the portal. He didn't want her to go—but he let her. He stepped back and nodded gravely. I saw the smile she gave him. I understood some of the story better in that moment. She looked back as she walked through the portal, ribbons trailing off her. Demeter was there to greet her. Elsa gestured widely, and the fake snow was quickly moved to the side of the stage—I never saw what did it, because it wasn't the cast or crew. Against the Greek backdrop, images of trees growing new leaves, and flowers springing up were projected. It was meant to be spring.
Another dance, the music fast and bright, with plenty of woodwinds. I was lost trying to track the dancers with how fast they moved. So much movement that I even lost track of Elsa in the crowd for a few moments here and there. Not frantic in pace, but so fast… the choreography must have been insane for that number, so I wasn't surprised that it was only a short dance. The lighting changed slightly, richer green, with hints of yellow, the projected trees starting to show fruits. Elsa danced her way back to the portal, but Demeter tried to keep her daughter on the surface.
So Elsa stayed, for a little while. But her movements became slower. Her posture hunched. Then she wasn't moving. Barely crawling. It seemed all she could do was point to the portal. The people of the town helped to carry her there. She passed through the portal as if part of a funeral procession.
But in the underworld she moved again. Freely. Hades had stood waiting for her. He offered her his hand, then gestured towards the gathered spirits, each with some kind of offering. They seemed to celebrate her return more than had those on the surface. The music became a triumphant refrain as everyone began to dance. Persephone and Hades moved in a slow waltz around the centre of the stage while more and more dancers began to fill the space around them, some of them dressed as spirits, some of them still wearing togas or their other costumes.
The dance was slower than the others, as if they were holding back, keeping themselves restrained. I figured out a few moments later that it had to be deliberate—the previous dances were not that far apart, and were probably exhausting. Especially for Elsa. This dance also allowed the rest of the cast to move about the stage, seeming to mingle and mix between two worlds. The dance stopped, but the music continued. The lead actors and dancers took a step forward, then bowed. As they stepped back the supporting cast and crew stepped forward and did the same. The lights dimmed as the music faded out, and the curtain fell.
I sat, processing more than just the story. I knew I had some things to work on—items to discuss with Doctor Spiros during my next therapy session—and some fantasies to maybe tell Elsa about. When I felt more confident in expressing them. I also hoped she would show up, in costume, while the crowd was leaving. She didn't. It was about fifteen minutes later when she came up to the box, wearing sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a half-zipped jacket.
"I thought you would have gone to the foyer, there was a small event to meet the cast." She gave me an odd look.
"I'm sorry," I shook my head. "I thought you might come here first."
"I could not, the meeting is an obligation for the cast." She gave me a tired smile. Very tired, if she let me see it that much. "Maybe we can just go home now?"
I made a show of checking my watch. "I think it's well past your bedtime, young lady."
Elsa laughed.
"Come on," I put my arm around her shoulders, helping guide her back out the door. "It was a wonderful show. And I was only kind of joking about that thing I said during the intermission." I turned so she could see my nervous smile. "But it would be okay to just cuddle, right?"
"That is always okay," she kissed me on the cheek. "Tomorrow I am thinking I will be dead. Wake me on Saturday?"
My turn to laugh. "Sure."
There was silence for a moment. I leaned in to steal a kiss, not caring who might have seen us in that moment. I saw the way she smiled as I pulled away, leading her down the stairs to the foyer as if nothing had happened. She told me later—much later—that that tiny kiss was one of her favourite memories of our time together. Because it was me, just being myself, and not being ashamed or embarrassed by any of it.
–∞–
"Really?" Joan is staring up at me with a deeply questioning look. "Everything that went on that night, and one little kiss was Elsa's favourite memory?"
"It really was," I give her a lop-sided grin. "We didn't even do anything when we got home, she just kind of collapsed on top of the bed, and I snuggled in next to her. I didn't how sweaty she was, or that it was colder than usual that night. One of us figured out a blanket at some point during the night, but that really was it."
"But the performance, the dances she did… she wasn't proud of all that?"
"Of course she was, baby. So very proud of what she'd accomplished. She would sometimes talk about it too, especially towards the end, when she couldn't do much. Reminiscing about better days. But she always remembered the kiss." I let out a breath, and give her a soft little smile. "Sometimes it's the little things you remember the most. Even with you. the fight you had with Tina, and your tumble down the stairs—do you know what I remember most?"
"Do I want to?" Her eyes are downcast. I know she's still ashamed of what happened. Of what she did. But I also know she's working so hard to make amends, and to be better.
"That little cut above your eyebrow—The way Tina leaned in to be close to you, to kiss it better, then put a bandaid on it. That's what I remember the most."
"That… and not me tumbling down the stairs. Or the fact I hit Tina, and it wasn't the first time. Or how angry and disappointed you were in me?" She's looking at me with some degree of incredulity.
"I do remember all those things," I took her hands in mine, then rested them between us. "But that single moment—that told me so much about your relationship. The things you'd claim you were too old for. Things you stopped letting me do. Letting yourself be cared for. The way Tina was completely unafraid. The way she cared for you—more than just patching you up. It said a thousand little things, and all of them were good."
Joan sniffed softly, looking away again.
"Too much?"
"Maybe," she sniffs again, and I see her moving to wipe away a tear. "But thank you."
"So, any chance you'll let me in on what you, Tina, and Bex have planned then?"
She laughed, then looked me straight in the eyes. "No."
"Okay," I just shrug. "Will you at least let me know if it goes well, or if it doesn't?"
"I guess we can tell you that much," she smiles for me. "But we're still figuring things out."
"Still?" I give her a look of mock incredulity. She laughs again.
"You probably wouldn't have figured it out in three months." She pokes her tongue out at me. "Besides, we gotta try some things first."
She's teasing me, and I deserve it. I know. But so badly do I want to know—at least roughly—what they're getting up to when they get together. I can hear her laughing at my frustration. It's a good laugh, and it reminds me of yours, when you'd finally figured out just how to tease me.
Okay, it didn't take you long, but did you have to give her that ability too?