Page 20 of Obsessed with Her
I will never die from her pushing me. It's quite the opposite. My obsession with perfection destroyed my toes.
"Thank you, madam," I say, trying not to show how happy I am, as I'm not good at sharing emotions.
Taking advantage of the fact that I'm no longer alone, I go to the clothes rack and put away the costume, like when we were looking for monsters under the bed as children. Of course, there's nothing there and I feel ridiculous.
"What is wrong?" she asks, because she's the type who doesn't let anything go.
"Nothing, Madam. I think I was a little anxious before going on stage and I thought there was someone hiding behind the clothes."
She doesn't smile. "Did you check before or just now?"
"No, just now, but I'm sure there was nothing there."
She walks to the back of the dressing room and moves the costumes even farther away than I did, giving a full view of the room. "Why did you think there was someone here, Serenity?"
I feel embarrassed. I'm acting like a baby. Madam will find me immature.
"I told you, it was just a feeling. I've always been scared," I lie.
I could never be fearful. Having been sent very young to boarding school with its long, dark hallways, I quickly learned to work through my fear.
Suddenly, she ducks as if she saw something. When she gets up again, she has a ticket in her hands. She shows me. "What is this doing here?"
I pick it up and look. "It's a ticket for today's show."
"Yes, but it shouldn't be here." She looks around the dressing room and starts opening doors. Her actions make me even more nervous.
In the end, she finds nothing, but she says, "You should talk to your bodyguards about this."
"Of course," I reply, knowing that I won’t do that under any circumstances. They will definitely report to my new guardian, and all I need is one more person giving up on me, thinking I'm a fool who needs full-time care. I will try to stay completely off Mr. Kostanidis' radar.
Someone knocks on the door, and Madam gestures for me to wait. There's something about her face that tells me she was waiting for whoever is out there.
Five minutes later, I understand why. She’s just introduced me to a famous celebrity agent. The man asks me a lot of questions and seems interested in me. I don't understand the reason. I'm not an actress or a famous model. I won't bring him any profit.
Anyway, I accept his card and give him my phone number. The man is prompt, the kind of person who seems to consider every minute precious, and as quickly as he arrived, he disappears.
Madam follows him shortly after, but first she asks me if I will get home safely. I nod, and when I see her leave, I suddenly feel melancholy.
I think about my parents. If they were here, would they take me to dinner?
I shake my head at the futility of wishing for that. I will never get an answer.
I start to take off my clothes, first getting rid of my ballet shoes. There is a bathroom at the theater, but I prefer to shower at home.
I loosen my skirt and then take out all the pins holding the bun in my hair. I moan with pleasure when I finally feel the tension release.
Someone knocks on the door, and being sure it's Madam Villatoro again, because the bodyguards would intercept anyone else, I invite her in.
I have my back turned, but I say to her, "I decided to take a shower at home. My feet need a hot tub with lots of bath salts, Madam Villat..." I turn around smiling, but then my voice disappears.
It's not Madam Villatoro who is standing in the doorway. It’s a tall, strong man, dressed in an elegant suit.
An intense shiver runs through my body, because I'm sure, somehow, that it's the same person who was watching me from the box.
I would like him to come into the light a little, his face is partially covered.
I don't remember that I'm just wearing a leotard and tights. I don't even remember that I should send him out, because after all, he is a stranger. Instead, I step forward, recklessly, getting too close to the unexpected visitor.
