Dances with Monsters(168)

"You better get your ass in gear, Marine," Bunz said. "Or else she'll never forgive you."

"Roger that," he sighed. "Gotta go. See you later." He ended the call and jumped into his car, cranking the engine and speeding off. He truly felt awful for neglecting her this week and forgetting about her performance; he knew he had quite a bit of making up to do.

***

Drew paced around her tiny dressing room. It was fifteen minutes until showtime, and she was fairly certain she was going to throw up.

She peered at herself in the mirror of her small lighted vanity. Her makeup was simple; after covering her face and lips in a heavy, shine-free foundation, she had enhanced her eyes with dark eyeshadow and liner and her cheekbones with bronzer, but otherwise nothing else. Her mouth was going to be covered in layers of duct tape that she would gradually peel away as she illustrated her character gaining a voice as the song progressed, until finally only two pieces of black electrical tape, forming an X over her lips, remained.

Her costume itself was simple; tight black dance shorts and a ripped black top, done strategically to highlight the areas on her own body that she had self-harmed. She had painted over her scars with a special, pale red body paint that would show up under normal lights but glow in the darkness. At the climax of the song, she'd requested the houselights be killed and would be dancing completely in the darkness, with only the glowing red streaks and her silhouette visible. She had painted the scars on the tops of her breasts, on her rib cage, on her lower stomach, on her thighs, and the inner portion of her ankle. She prepared herself for the questions she was sure to receive from her family regarding the placement of and reason for her paint, but she wasn't entirely sure how she wanted to answer them.

Her body shook from the coldness of the theater and from nerves as she continued her pacing. She glanced at her cellphone sticking out of a pocket in her bag. She was tempted to turn it on and see if "anyone" had attempted to contact her, but decided that given that the chances of that happening were slim, based on the last several days, she didn't want to put herself through any more disappointment prior to this performance; taking the stage after so many years of not being on a stage was extremely stressful.

Aside from feeling let-down and sad from Heath's sudden disappearance in her life, she was also genuinely disappointed he wouldn't see the final result of all her hard work. She had put her heart and soul into this dance, and the gradual evolvement of her character being a mute victim with no voice to a strong survivor finding a voice by the end was a subtle dedication to him. Even if they had gone as far as they were going to go, she would forever be indebted to him for helping her heal past her pain. Sometimes, she reasoned, remembering an old adage she'd heard somewhere, people came into one's life for a short season to fulfill some sort of purpose or teach a lesson. Then, the season passed.

She just never expected that she and Heath were just a season.

The opening of her dressing room door was preceded by a short knock, and then a young woman stuck her head in. She wore a pair of headphones with a microphone attached to one side, hanging in front of her mouth. A battery pack was clipped to her belt and she held a clipboard.

"Hi, Drew," she said. "I'm Jen, the stage manager. I just wanted to let you know you're on deck."

"Okay," Drew said, reaching for her footies and sliding them on quickly. "I'm just about ready." She quickly slapped on the layers of tape, starting with the black X and adding three layers of duct tape, positioned around her mouth in an approximation of a starburst shape. When they were in place, she turned and gave Jen a thumbs-up, and the stage manager began to lead her toward the backstage area.

"Hey," Jen said shyly. She put her hand on Drew's arm. "I apologize if this is too forward, or if it's a painful subject for you still. But I just wanted to say that I read your story in the paper. And I think that you're really brave for testifying."

Drew blinked at her, unsure what to say. She didn't want to be rude, so she gave Jen another thumbs-up, her eyes crinkling slightly at the corners.

Jen nodded and patted her arm, then pointed toward the wings of the stage. "When this dancer goes off, you're up," she whispered.

Drew's stomach erupted in nerves as she moved toward the wings of the stage, in between the curtains. Her heart pounded and her breathing increased through her nose. Her hands and feet went freezing cold and she tightened all of her muscles to keep the shakes at bay. She already knew where her family was seated—they were in the second row near the center aisle. She thought she had seen a blonde who looked like Lana earlier, but she couldn't be sure and didn't have the time to take a good look. She reasoned it probably wasn't; if she hadn't heard from Heath all week, she certainly couldn't expect his family to show up to something he wasn't going to even be present for.