Dance, My Angel

She steps aside a little and I gladly consent to her inspection. Nothing escapes her, and certainly not the dark circles under my eyes that are now visible without the makeup that camouflaged them.

─ You look great, darling. Only you work too hard and it shows. You need to rest.

─ I’ll think about it, Granny.

She raises an eyebrow skeptically. She knows me too well.

─ All right, I’ll make an effort during your stay.

─ Good. I intend to spend as much time as possible with you. I'm sure we have a lot to talk about from last time I was here.

I doubt it, but it does not matter. All I want is to be with her, even if we say nothing. And then, if I have nothing to tell her, maybe she does. I know she loves her new home in the middle of nowhere. And her neighbor. Specially her neighbor. She tells me about him every time she calls me. I think she dreams, secretly or not, that we may fall for each other. My grandmother still has dreams for me. She is so sweet.

─ Are you ready to go Caitlyn? Your parents are waiting for us to go to the restaurant.

Oh yes. The famous family dinner! The one that only takes place the evening of my premieres and which nowadays is my only contact with my parents. Yet, despite our total lack of contact the rest of the year, I have absolutely nothing to say to them, or rather, I cannot talk to them, and this dinner quickly turns into a silent and uncomfortable meal where my grandmother struggles for two hours to re-create family ties that never really existed. I am as pleased by this idea as I am to leave my place of first dancer to Agatha.

─ You are much more expressive than you think Caitlyn kitten. Don't make that face darling. This dinner is important to our family.

─ That is what you say!

─ OK, it means a lot to me. I want to reunite my son and my granddaughter.

Those pleading eyes... for a long time I have wanted to have the same eyes. That for sure would have changed my life!

─ You're a manipulator, Granny. I just have to change and I'm ready.

─ You are the best granddaughter in the world.

─ I have no doubt about that.

She stops just before going through the door to hand me an envelope that had been slipped underneath. I receive it with trembling hands. I have started to fear the mail.

─ And kitten, put on a pretty dress, please. I don't want your mother to have a seizure when she sees you show up in ripped jeans like last time.

Seeing her face at that time was certainly worthwhile. Nevertheless, I do not have the heart to smile. I open the blood-red envelope knowing in advance what it contains. All the threatening letters I have received have been identical to this one. I immediately recognize the angry handwriting all over the paper. It is coarse and violent, both in words and in the handwriting pattern, so dry and sharp pointed that has left holes in the paper under the virulence of the strokes.

” You didn't listen to me. I told you you were mine and I forbade you to show your ass in tutus to everybody. You should have quit on your own when you had the chance instead of being a bitch. Now, I am the one who is taking matters in my own hands. You will only dance for me. I will come and get you“.

My breathing is short and jerky and my hands are shaking so much that the letter falls to the floor. This is the first time that the man writes down his intention to come to see me, because he is a man, no doubt. The first letters that came to me had made me think of a fan a little too possessive. He recounted in his letters the life of a couple that he imagined for us, with a lot of salacious words. Over time, the descriptions became cruder and the words more threatening. He went from “I'm going to take you in every single way” to “I'm going to impale you on my cock and I am going to fuck you until you scream in pain”. He also blames me for my lack of reaction and involvement in our relationship as a couple. What couple? I do not know anyone twisted enough to make up a torrid story with me. The way he imagines me makes it clear that we do not know each other. Apparently, he decided to remedy this fact. I take my cell phone out of my bag trying to regain control of myself. When the letters have become a source of anguish, I have sent them to the director of the ballet who had contacted the police. Unfortunately, at the moment the inspectors have no leads and, according to them, there is nothing to worry about. It seems that most anonymous stalkers never take action. What about the others? I was not given any answers. I think I am paranoid. Okay, I am a little bit. Let's say I have a natural tendency to extrapolate everything. But it is time for those letters to stop.

─ Caitlyn! You've been fabulous. The feedback comments from the spectators are very good.

─ Thank you sir, but I'm not calling you for that.

I hear him sighing on the phone. He does not like me either. He supports me because I am useful to him. I make a lot of money for him and he feels compelled to make an effort with me.

─ What can I do for you?

─ I have received a new letter.

─ We’ve talked about it before. You have to get over it and throw them away without opening them. This man will never act.

─ In fact, I received one at home and one was slipped into my dressing room.

The silence that follows reassures me. Maybe I will finally be taken seriously.

─ Leave them with Security when you leave the theatre. I am going to send them to the police.

─ Thank you, sir.

─ You are welcome Caitlyn. Enjoy your evening. You deserve it. We'll see you tomorrow to talk about the investigation.

─ All right. Good-bye.

I am relieved by this call. I just hope these new letters will make a difference. I am already afraid enough of the world around me without adding the fear of a psychopath.

I get ready in a minute. Not that I am in any hurry to see my parents, but I cannot wait to get rid of those damn letters which I cannot stand to see on my hairdresser. I leave the theater after a last glance in the mirror, entrusting the letters to Security.

Chapter 3Caitlyn

My parents have not changed an inch. My father as always has his unruly graying hair, and his piercing blue eyes same as mine, and my mother is dressed up in her tight pantsuit and her chignon without a single strand of hair sticking out. The way they stare at me is no way different from how they looked at me when I was little. As if I were an alien impossible to decipher.

— Thank you for honoring us with your presence Caitlyn. You took your time to join us! You know your mom cannot stay up for long.

In fact, my mother does have some knee problems due to failing joints, but it is only painful in cold and rainy weather and tonight the sky is incredibly clear.

— Hi, Dad. It's incredibly mild for the season, don't you think? We can even see the stars.

— Don't be rude Caitlyn.

Well, yes. My parents have always stood together, especially against me. My grandmother comes in before dinner is cut short. More than short, since we are not even at the restaurant yet.

— Let's go eat. I'm starving.

Grandma passes her arm under mine and we walk on the sidewalk in silence, at the head of our little procession. I have the unpleasant impression of being observed. It is like a look burning my back, making cold sweats grow along my spine. I might think this is due to the presence of my parents; however, they have never caused me such an epidermal reaction. I shudder when I look around, but the faint glow of the moon and the few scattered lampposts do not allow me to distinguish the surroundings well, creating at most disturbing shadows in the darkness.

— Are you cold, darling?

— No, Granny. I am OK. I just can't wait to get home. I am tired.

I did not tell my grandmother about the letters. I did not want her to worry about me. She leads a peaceful life and there is no question of that changing.

— When are you going to visit me in Virginia? Clean air and large spaces would do you the greatest good.

— I have no doubt, Granny, but the season is just beginning and the Sleeping Beauty shows will continue for several weeks.

— And then there will be the selection of a new ballet, which of course you will win hands down. Then the rehearsals for the new show and again the performances. It never stops, Cat.