Page 70
Story: Reverence
She felt more than heard her own voice rising to a scream at the end of the sentence, and yet Gabriel sat silently, watching her, pity and chagrin stark in his eyes.
“Gabriel, honestly, just go already. I never forbade you to speak to her. If you miss her, you should call her, for crying out loud.”
He shook his head, then got up and squeezed her shoulder gently.
“Now who’s silly, Jett? I’d never do anything to cause you pain. She’s allowed to come to my funeral, nothing else. You are my friend. My darling one, who was by my side when hardly anyone else was. Who nursed me, washed my bedding, and changed my bandages when I needed them. I love you. And I’m sorry I even brought her up. I just heard…”
He trailed off, and Juliette sighed.
“You heard what?”
“Paris Opera Ballet revivedSwan Lake. Francesca’s version. And they are taking it on the road.”
Juliette closed her eyes. The memory of Katarina and her dancing the pas de deux together, the gentle arms around her, those fingers in hers, the exhilaration of performing a seduction on stage in front of hundreds of people, wanting those lips on hers…
When she opened her eyes, Gabriel’s brimmed with tears.
“I hate this, Jett. I hate that you are stuck.”
“I’m… I feel like I lost myself, along the years, in between cities, among all the regrets.”
She reached for the cane and stepped away from him. Her leg suddenly leaden, Juliette moved slower, her own tragedy, the reminder of everything she had lost, her career, her legacy, all dead, on various operating tables, in bloody clumps of white sponges and bandages, all wailing along with the damaged ligaments of her knee.
“But I’m not stuck, Gabe. I had a date just yesterday.” Technically they’d had coffee, but he did not need to know that.
His scoff was answer enough as to his thoughts on the hour she’d spent drinking subpar brew with someone Francesca had set her up with.
“I’d ask you what her name was, but you’ll make one up to cover for the fact that she was entirely unremarkable.”
Juliette allowed a small smile. He wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t going to admit it so easily.
“Don’t you have to go, you goof?”
“Ha, I knew I was right.” He raised his arms and did a little hip shimmy. Juliette felt her smile widen. Well, if anyone could change her mood after pissing her off, it would be him.
But then his face turned serious again, and she sighed. He could be like a dog with a bone.
“I want you happy, Jett. Life is circles. They’re all around us. You said goodbye to the most promising career modern ballet has ever known. You’ve established yourself as the most exciting choreographer in the US, if not in the world, and yet you go on dates with women whose names you can’t even make yourself remember the next day. And Katarina Vyatka is coming to New York.”
He exhaled loudly at the end of his long list.
“Which one of those bothers you most, Gabriel? I won’t start a fight with her when she performs on my stage. Are you that afraid of my reaction?”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s the first one. That one hurts me, darlin’. That you aren’t happy. And I’m not scared you’ll fill her pointe shoes with glass… Shit.” He slapped himself over the forehead and fell silent.
“You know that has never been my modus operandi. Maybe Katarina’s, if Rodion Foltin and everyone else is to be believed?—”
“I never believed that. And you never should have believed him, darlin’. He’s a user. He wrung Paris Opera Ballet dry, and he did it for his own selfish egomaniac reasons. Nothing he has ever said was without an agenda.”
“Gabriel…” Juliette felt the years of memories press heavily on her shoulders. “He said what he said, and she never once contradicted him.”
“We don’t know that. You don’t know that. She was a survivor, above all else. And she was afraid?—”
“Do we have to do this now?” Juliette touched his sternum, her own chest almost caving in from the pain of reliving. “I don’t care enough to do anything to her, so don’t worry about glass. I’m sure I will run into her at some reception or another.” Juliette wisely sidestepped the issue of Gabriel’s upcoming wedding since he didn’t yet know about the proposal nor about Francesca burning the phones to Paris to request the presence of all his friends. Juliette wondered if Francesca would invite Katarina. Gabriel, loyal to a fault as he was, clearly loved her and was also grateful to her for being the first to guess his condition, to see his secret and embrace him instead of shunning him.
A thought for another day.
“You will be late for your date, and poor Gustavo is going to be impatient.” She motioned with her cane toward the door, and he nodded.
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