Henri gave me a gift by keeping Madeleine late, but there will be a price for his help. There always is.
I’m not worried about him breaking our agreement to give Madeleine the solo, but what will he do to her after? What else have I cost her?
I rush past the other dancers on their way home for the evening and out into the crisp November night toward the café. Right now I have to find Zig and send him on his way. Then I’ll focus on outwitting Henri.
“Madeleine!” Zig shouts, tearing me from my thoughts. “Hey!” He sits on the nearly full patio waving at me like a lunatic. A few heads turn in my direction, and I weigh my options.
I’m going to pretend to be Madeleine, but do I tell him we’re done and walk away? Or do I sit with him and make myself so unlikeable that he’ll never want to see Madeleine again?
I need to be unlikeable. Otherwise, he may actually wait for her if he’s as interested in Madeleine as she claims. I can’t have him waiting here every night, hoping for a chance to fix things with her.
With a bit of guilt, I wave back at Zig.
“Hi, Zig,” I say, leaning over the low, wrought iron railing that separates the sidewalk from the patio and letting him awkwardly kiss my cheeks. He smells nice, and even though he looks American with his ill-fitted clothes, Madeleine wasn’t wrong. Zig is attractive.
“Hello, Madeleine Beauvais.” Her last name sounds clunky coming out of his mouth. “How long do you have?”
That’s right. Madeleine told him she had half an hour. “Not long.”
Zig points at the low metal gate that allows patrons to enter and exit the patio. “I just ordered an espresso. Want to sit down?”
“I can’t.” My breath quickens. I shouldn’t pretend to be Madeleine, but what choice do I have? I need Zig gone. “I don’t sit in tourist places.”
He cocks his head and studies me like he senses that I am not Madeleine. My insides quiver. Did she tell him about me and how alike we look? But then disappointment clouds his face like his night has suddenly gone from wonderful to terrible.
“We can go somewhere else.” He signals for the bill. “Or we can walk around. I don’t really care.”
“Walk around in this weather?” I lean against the fence. “It’s freezing, and I have to get back to practice.”
“Right.” He draws his thick brows together. “I don’t mind waiting for you to finish. I’ve got nothing better to do.”
What is wrong with this boy? Does he not understand when he’s being put off? Or is this refusal to give up typical for an American? Either way, it’s clear getting rid of Zig is going to be more difficult than simply saying I . . . Madeleine . . . needs to practice.
“So, what do you say?” he asks as he walks to the gate. I don’t move when he swings it open for me. “Just sit with me until you have to go back?”
“Zig,” I say firmly, “I told you I didn’t have a lot of time. I can’t be hanging out in a ridiculous café when I have an important audition coming up.”
If he’s disappointed, he hides it well. “Tomorrow, then?”
What is wrong with him? Am I not being unpleasant enough? How am I going to ruin his desire to be with Madeleine if he can’t take a hint?
I huff. I’m going to have to have a horrible date with him. Something so disastrous that Zig will want to forget ever meeting Madeleine.
With guilt churning my insides, I channel a happy Madeleine voice. “Okay,” I say in a higher tone. “Tomorrow.”
“Awesome!” Zig brushes his hand over his hair and grins. “Where should we meet?”
I give him the name of a bistro far from the Ballet.
Zig smiles at me. “See you tomorrow.”
“Wonderful,” I say flatly as I pivot toward the Palais Garnier. “I’ll see you then.”
I don’t go back to the Ballet. Instead, I stroll under the dim streetlights lining the Seine. The moonless night is too cold for most people, but I love it and often come here to think. Not to make future plans, because I have no meaningful future, but because water sloshing against the walls combined with the hum of cars remind me that I am still alive.
Even though I shouldn’t be.
My nighttime roaming usually ends at the Place de la Concorde, and tonight is no different. Once, Henri held me high on his shoulders so I could better view the guillotine’s cruel kiss. The Place looked different then: different statues, different buildings, different people; however, when I close my eyes, I see it all. I feel it all. I am there, and not here.
I’m a ghost of the past.
This is my eternally damned life, and the only bright spot is Madeleine’s friendship. Not even ballet ends my heartache, probably because I never wanted it. Henri wanted to be a dancer, and I was forced into the role.
I stop near the towering obelisk to calm my meandering mess of thoughts. First, I should have definitively ended whatever Madeleine has going with Zig. If I had told him to go away and never come back, would he have believed me? Why didn’t I try that instead of agreeing to meet him again?
Is it because deep inside me there’s a part that betrays my most primal, selfish instincts and wants Madeleine to find happiness?
I stare at the black water of the Seine. I’m doubting myself, and I hate it, but getting rid of Zig is the only option, and that means I’m going to have to pretend to be Madeleine for one more night.
I rock side to side, my eyes fixed on the heavens above.
I’ve betrayed her before, so why does this feel different?
In 1921, it was easier to hide our identities than it is now with the internet. Henri and I didn’t have to change appearances often, and we could claim to be whoever we wanted: exiled Russian aristocracy; a well-to-do couple from a remote part of Europe; or even, sometimes, a normal couple making a living doing honest work.
The bawdiness of the 1920s seduced Henri, and in many ways, it reminded me of life at Versailles—the champagne, the dancing, and the never-ending search for a good time. When Madeleine came into our life, she brought her flapper enthusiasm into my increasingly dull and miserable existence, and it was wonderful to have a friend other than Henri.
True to his word, Henri secured numerous nightclub gigs for Madeleine, and I always sat in the audience, cheering her on. Henri even brought her elaborate outfits to wear on stage, and Madeleine would throw her arms around his neck and kiss his smooth cheeks with each gift.
One night, after a particularly captivating performance, Madeleine and I drank bottle after bottle of champagne—her drink of choice. She was still breathless from the rush of her performance, and numerous admirers stopped by our table.
“They love you.” I rested my head on her shoulder. It was well after midnight, but no one except me seemed tired.
Madeleine placed a quick kiss on my forehead. “Dearest Lucie, they love me, but I adore you . . . and Henri, of course. Without you, I would still be forcing my way onto stage.”
I sighed. “I wish we could stay like this always.”
Across the table, Henri raised his eyebrows as he polished off his coupe of champagne. “Would that make you happy, Lucie?”
Even though I had thawed considerably toward Henri over the past century, his devotion didn’t heal the lonely ache inside me. I needed something more than to travel through my eternal life flitting from one party to the next. I needed a true friend, and Madeleine was the only one I had ever had.
I lifted my head off Madeleine’s shoulder. Her bleary-eyed focus was on the dancer shimming across the stage. “She’s wonderful,” Madeleine said without any acknowledgment of the conversation Henri and I were having. “The crowd loves her.” She narrowed her eyes. “I hate her. What if they love her more than me?”
Henri shook his head. “Impossible. You are a delight, Madeleine.”
This appeased her, and she settled back into her seat. Her white, plumed headband matched the elaborately beaded and feathered dress Henri had given her the day before.
“Are you happy, Lucie?” Henri’s blurry, champagne gaze met mine.
I lazily nodded. “I do love our terrible threesome.” The champagne had made my head woozy, and I giggled. “Imagine how the two of us would keep you on your toes.”
Henri tilted his head and smiled. “I don’t have to imagine. I live it every day.”
I brushed my hand over his. “Then, yes, Madeleine makes me happy.”
Next to me, Madeleine clapped as the dancer left the stage. “Maybe she’ll fall down the step and break her leg?” Madeleine chuckled. “Wouldn’t that be terrible?”
That was what I loved about Madeleine—how she didn’t hide her feelings, and she embraced everything with enthusiasm . . . even if that was wishing ill will on a rival performer.
“Girls.” Henri rose from his chair. “It’s a bit stuffy in here. Would either of you like to get fresh air with me?”
Madeleine lifted a half-empty bottle of champagne off the table. “Can I take this with us? I’d hate to see it wasted.”
Henri dipped his head. “Of course.”
An uncomfortable tightness built in my chest, but I shoved my worry aside. Henri held my jacket open, and I slipped it on. He did the same for a very tipsy Madeleine, and we left through the front door. After being in the raucous club, my ears couldn’t adjust to the silence, and everything sounded muffled. Madeleine and Henri walked ahead of me, her clinging to his arm, and Henri keeping his pace slow to accommodate her. Eventually, he guided Madeleine down an empty alleyway with me tottering behind on toe-pinching shoes.
Madeleine casually draped herself over Henri. She never hid her attraction to him and relished his attention. Henri, however, was kind but indifferent to her—like he was with all his mortal playthings.
“And here we are.” Henri’s eyes locked on mine.
I glanced up and down the vacant alley. Somewhere on the main street, a man shouted and people laughed, but we were tucked away from everyone and out of sight. The hair on the nape of my neck pricked up.
“And why are we here, Henri?”
Madeleine slumped against Henri and dropped the champagne bottle. It shattered against the cobblestones, but neither Henri nor I moved.
“Are you happy?” he asked me for the second time that night.
“For now.” The effects of the champagne suddenly lifted, and my brain fog cleared.
“With me?”
I shrugged my left shoulder. “I am happy for now.” My sight landed on Madeleine. “When she’s gone, I don’t know.”
Henri frowned. “Since becoming friends with Madeleine, I have questioned your commitment to me, Lucie.”
This was new. Henri had never expressed any dislike of Madeleine. In fact, he had nurtured their relationship with his gifts and flattery.
Madeleine tightened her grip on Henri’s arm, oblivious to his accusations.
“Commitment to you?” I asked. “You’ve given me no choice.”
Madeleine narrowed her eyes at the ground. “I think I broke the bottle.”
“You did,” I said. “But all is well. We’ll get another if you want.”
“That sounds delightful.” Her light-brown bob had become slightly disarrayed, and her smeared eye makeup gave the appearance of two black eyes.
“Don’t be jealous of me, Henri,” Madeleine slurred. So, she had been listening. “Lucie is my dearest friend, and you are strikingly handsome. I love you both in very different ways.”
My breath hitched as a cruel smile formed on Henri’s full lips. “Yes, you love us.” He studied Madeleine for a moment. “You and Lucie will be friends forever, won’t you?”
“Until we’re old and gray and no longer able to do a high-kick.” Madeleine tried kicking her leg up but stumbled backward into the building with a giggle. “Can you imagine a grandmother high-kicking her way across stage?”
“A grandmother?” Henri said softly. “Surely you don’t want to be a grandmother, Madeleine.”
“Madeleine, you should leave.” A sense of impending doom settled over me, and I pulled her off the wall and straightened her up. “Go, now, and we’ll see you tomorrow.”
Her blurry eyes tried to focus on my face. “Why? The fun is just starting, and I have a gift for you.”
“I’m tired, and you’ve had too much champagne. Your mother will worry about you if you don’t hurry.” I turned her toward the street. “Go on.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to leave?” Henri said.
I grasped his hand. “Henri, let’s go back to our apartment. I need sleep. It’s been a long night.”
He held out his free hand to Madeleine. “Madeleine, would you like to stay with Lucie forever?”
The wickedness in the curve of his lip and the delight in his eyes chilled me, and in that moment, I understood what my true desire was. I wanted Madeleine to be with me forever. I wanted it, and Henri knew it.
Panic welled in Madeleine’s eyes as Henri’s magic surrounded her. She reached for me and screamed my name.
I turned away.