The heavy velvet curtains close, the applause dies and the ambient noise inside the theater returns to the whispering, the program shuffling, the creak of the stage as the hands prepare for the next contestants.
She smoothes her dress, fluffs her hair, gives herself a once over. Her hands run down her breasts, her waist, her hips – she can feel herself, but can’t see herself in the darkness. She’s invisible.
A tight hand closes around her arm, pulls her back into the black. He’s behind her, a possessive hand that hasn’t touched her with love in years grasping her, holding her back.
“Don’t do this,” he hisses in her ear, and she feels physically ill at the sound of his voice. She hasn’t been seen by him in years, but now, this night of all nights, he decides that now is the time for a grand gesture, one final attempt at captivity.
Across the stage, another man waits for her. Tuxedo, tails, refinement in his stature, but shock and questions in his eyes, his face, his body as he sees the grasping hand that holds her back.
They’d been practicing in secret for months, tucked away in a studio that held small teenage girls with ballerina dreams during the day, and private dance lessons at night.
She was going to the store, she was going to visit her mother, she was going to be working late, the excuses came easy to her, lying was second nature in their marriage.
His affairs, his hidden bottles of bourbon, his mysterious withdrawals from their bank account, lined up like dominoes awaiting the first tap to fall.
She hears footsteps on the other side of the curtain, then the tap and rumble of a microphone as they announce their name. She flinches at the sound of her last name, and looks across the stage again.
Months of holding her tight, catching her before she falls, forgiving her mistakes and missteps, he holds out his hand.
She feels the magnetic pull toward him, but lying, cheating hands holds her back.
The music begins, the curtain rises, and, with one strong tug, she pulls away, a flash of red velvet and black stockings, the click of her heels is the metronome in her mind as she runs across the stage toward her partner.
Her captor fades into the darkness, while she turns toward the lights.
She can hear her heartbeat, her pulse quickens. She feels strong legs carry her, the scent of sweat, of perfume, she can feel herself becoming visible again.
Falling into his arms for the first time, he touches the small of her back, pulls her close, and she feels electric, she feels herself open to him.
She will let him see everything.
