Beautiful Monster 2(49)

 
A voiceover narration that was not my own walked the camera in the dark through the theater, and set up on the spot, where months ago, we had sat, crying. If I squinted hard enough, I could almost see the remnants of the ghosts of us sitting there.
 
“Ballerina Porsche De Ritter of the Russian National was backstage helping Liam with the production of Beauty and the Beast, starring Amy, Liam’s now girlfriend. It was a well-known fact that Porsche suffered from AIDS, and no one expected her to live long. But who knew it would be tonight? During Beauty and the Beast, in the final act, Porsche, alone backstage, collapsed, her heart giving out. After a standing ovation, the cast rushed backstage to find their former teacher expired. Porsche was also the first scholarship winner of Leopard Academy, although she was only a student for a few months. Watch what we believe is her ghost perform for the camera.”
 
Another commercial break came in and I thought Liam was going to strangle the TV. He got up and went to my open laptop on the desk.
 
“I really don’t want to watch this anymore, Amy,” he said, turning his back to me.
 
My heart broke and I was about to go over to join him, but he must of read my mind.
 
“You stay there, and let me know,” he said, clicking on the Internet and logging into the school website, presumably to do some work.
 
With a glance outside, I saw that the sun was already starting to set. We had so few moments left, and I felt annoyed. But I understood, I guess, and so I stayed, waiting for the commercials to end.
 
The announcer repeated basically the same thing she had just said, which had always bothered me. They made TV shows these days where you could pick them up at any time, and still understand what was going on.
 
And then I saw the white mist that they had referred to. The white mist I had seen when I was in the Red Theater.
 
It swirled and smoked, and I searched the TV and my mind from every angle, trying to figure out where it was coming from. But then, the camera angle changed and it began to take a shape. It began to stand up like a human being, the misty outline blurred.
 
“Amy…” Liam said, but I held up my hand, staring at the TV.
 
The shape became clearer, and if you looked at just the right angle, a face appeared.
 
“Liam, ghosts are real, right?” I asked, my voice trembling.
 
“Yes, but, Amy, what the hell is this?”
 
“Sssh.” I was rooted to the TV, staring at it. Hair formed around the face, and if I hadn’t seen her face a thousand times, I wouldn’t have known her. But I knew that face, engraved in my memory forever.
 
“AMY!” Liam yelled and I turned my head to the laptop, where he had an article pulled up.
 
On the top, in scrawling black script, was Amy cheats on Liam? Below it, a picture of me at the doorway of the audition room, my hand in Drago’s. I swiveled my head back to the TV from the laptop and then back to Liam. I couldn’t decide if I was seeing things or what needed priority. The media fabricated things all the time, I knew that. In a perfect world, both of these stories would be fake, and Liam would believe me. Yet he looked pretty angry about it.
 
I wanted to believe Sites had faked it. But they couldn’t have known, couldn’t have done it just to mess with me.
 
“Liam.” I pointed to the figure, now freeze-framed on the TV. “Liam, that’s my mother.”
 
 
 

Chapter 15: Amy
 
 
 
“And the worst part is that he doesn’t believe me.” I leaned against my chair on set, keeping my voice low as I talked to Drago.
 
It had been over a week since Sites aired, and Liam had found that article. That night had been the worst night we had ever had. He didn’t quite believe me when I explained that nothing happened. It’s true, I was mad at him when I went to the audition for Ranger, but the anger had come out in my audition, not in cheating on him.
 
And on top of that, I was still trying to come to terms with the fact that I had seen my mother’s ghost. I didn’t quite believe it myself. Even though I was in the Red Theater every day, I had never seen it again. I watched the footage from Sites over and over again, going through it frame by frame, and each time I saw it. I even had a picture of her and got everyone I knew to compare it to the image. Most of them said I was right, even if they were just indulging me.
 
The only person I felt like I hadn’t shown it to was my father. I couldn’t imagine how he would react, and so I kept it from him. If he had seen that part of the show, then he didn’t say anything to me. Or maybe he just didn’t recognize her. I mean, after all, he had seen ever every day, looked into her face. All I had was images to go off of. I didn’t want it to dominate my life, but I couldn’t get it out of my head.