There’s a knock on my door, pulling me out of my panic. “Perse?” It’s Delila’s voice. “Can I come in?”
I don’t answer, and she takes that as a cue to enter. “I’m sorry.” I want to ask what she’s sorry for, but my mouth won’t open, and I can’t find the urge to ask.
Because I don’t care.
Bang!
“I know this might not help you right now, but I want you to know I have your RV here. I bought it before we got here, actually. You can decorate it however you like, and there’s enough space in there for five of you. It’s actually around the same size as this ridiculously overpriced hell on wheels.” I can just imagine her looking around my room. She sighs. “I’m not going to lie to you, Perse. I knew everything. I knew you when you were a little girl, and I knew the ratchet bitch who you thought was your mother. The witch.” Her hand comes to rest on top of my leg, pressing through the blanket. I swipe away the tears. “I had a feeling you weren’t Dove when I saw you dance. Dove was good at ballet, but you were always better. Your movements were always fluid. Your precision with dance has always been like art. Dove was the same, but there has always been something else about you. An edge to the way you moved. Like you’d take on a role while the song was played. Dove was always a little shy to do that, silenced by the voices that lived inside her beautiful head.” I remain quiet and still, not wanting to interrupt her obvious oversharing in case she pulls back. She stands, and a loud clink sounds out as she drops something onto my bed. “I understand you’ll need your space, so here are the keys. It’s all yours. When you’re ready, we can start on your recruits, and the tent is there for you.”
Once Delila leaves, I swing up from my bed and throw on a loose shirt and some tights and leg warmers. Snatching up my slippers, I head out of the RV and toward the tent.
I need to vent.
I need to dance until my feet bleed, and my muscles ache, to remind me why I’m here, alive, and I’ll do it finally with my slippers tied around my ankles.
I make my way into the tent, where I see Jay, one of the men who handles the DJ booth. “You want me to hit the switches on, Perse?” News must have traveled fast, and I’m partially thankful for him easing into calling me Perse.
“Yes, please,” I answer, tossing the keys and my hoodie onto the ground outside of the ring.
I tie my hair up into a high ponytail and push play on “You Should See Me in a Crown” by Billie Eilish. Lifting my hands into the second position, I roll my head around, closing my eyes and allowing my mind to drift into another dimension. Rolling into an alignment technique, I flick my foot up as the chorus kicks in, and then twist it out into a turnout technique before coming into a pirouette. I continue to dance until my feet ache, and sweat drips off me. Finally, as the song ends, I jump into a split and then slide into a bravura. The song cuts out, and my deep breaths take over me, tears pouring down my face. It was the first time I’ve danced in slippers since before my parents died. Now that I’ve done it, it feels like clarity. Like a dark cloud has cracked open to allow light through. My mind struggled for years to wear my slippers again, and now that I have, I don’t want to take them off.
“That was beautiful,” a small voice says, and I jump, turning around to face where it came from. The little girl from a couple weeks ago stands there in a long-sleeved cotton sundress and a small leather jacket.
“Hi!” I whisper, unsure on how to approach her. The last time I tried to talk with her, her father had a hernia. “Your name is Ariana, right?”
She nods, bringing her fingers to her front. “Papa says that you were cursed, but that you’re free now.”
I freeze, swallowing. Kneeling down to her level, I smile. “Well, at least it’s lifted now, right?”
Her little face lights up as she nods. “Can we still be friends?”
I chuckle. “I thought you’d never ask.” My phone starts vibrating in my hand and I watch as she waves. “I’ll see you later, friend!”
“Okay,” I whisper. Swiping my phone to answer it, I bring it to my ear. “Hey!”
Richard sighs. “When are you coming home, pumpkin?” His voice shocks me, but I exhale, relieved to have someone familiar and away from this world.
I chuckle. “I’ll come home for a visit sooner than you think.” A thought pops into my head. “Actually, hopefully sooner than I think.”
“To work?” I can hear the question in his tone even though he knows the answer already.
I blow out a breath of air. “Is it too late to hand in my resignation?”
“It’s a strip club, Dove. You don’t need that.” I flinch at that name.
“There’s so much I have to tell you, but my name is actually Perse.”
Silence.
“So Dove was your stripper name?”
I laugh out loud, my hand coming to my mouth.
“Girl, stop laughing at me. I can’t spank your ass when you’re all the way over the fuck wherever you are.”
“I’m,” my chest tightens, “a little bit away. I’ll give you a call tonight with more details, ’kay?”
He grunts, which is Richard’s way of saying yes. He could write an entire dictionary and translations from grunts to meanings.
Hanging up the phone, I decide to seek out Delila to help me find my recruits. I want to throw myself into dance and my act, and build what I know and what takes away the pain. Pain. Picking up my hoodie, I head back to The Brothers’ RV and get started on packing up my things. It’s funny now that I have my memories back how I know the simplest things that I didn’t know before, like The Brothers of Arms emblem, or the “weird star” I once called it. Each point signifies the suburbs in Kiznitch, and the thick lines that make up the star represent the generations of blood. One day I hope to go back there, maybe learn about my heritage, but right now, I need to move into my RV.
“I think that’s everything, which isn’t much, but you know…”
Rose laughs, picking up one of my boxes and making her way out in front of me. “Have you seen your RV yet? It’s fucking red. As in your hair.”
“I’ve seen the outside.” And it’s hard not to since it’s right behind the boys’ RV. Too close for my liking, but at least I’m out of their hair. I haven’t seen King in days, or any of the boys. It’s as though after that night, they’ve all gone ghost. I feel sick to my stomach about everything that has happened, but at the pit of my stomach holds mine and King’s bond. The organic love I have for him. I know I somewhat miss them all to an extent, but I can’t get past the taste of betrayal that King has left in my mouth after his final lick of defeat.
The memories are good. I welcome them, but what I don’t, and what I wasn’t prepared for, was the emotion that came with them. Memories aren’t like photographs. You can’t just flip over them and admire their vivid detail. You have to inhale the same air, embrace the same feelings, and whiff the same scent.
I push the key into the lock and swing the door open.
“Wow,” I whisper, stepping inside as Rose piles in behind me with Maya behind her.