Dance, My Angel

─ 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.

I lower my head, ashamed to be such a bad granddaughter. These remarks are entirely justified.

— I'm sorry to disappoint you, Granny.

She stops so abruptly to look me in the face that my parents stumble upon us.

— You will never disappoint me Caitlyn Cat. Do you hear me? I'm extremely proud of you and so are your parents.

She gives them a strong look to which they can only respond positively.

— Of course Caitlyn. We're happy for you.

It is not really the same as being proud, but I would settle for it. I know I would not get anything better from them. We resume our slow walk.

— I just want you to discover something other than dance. Besides, I'd like to introduce you to Baraqiel.

— Your neighbor?

She agrees, nodding.

— You never told me his first name. It is very strange.

— Don't judge him without meeting him. He is an angel, darling.

Of course! My grandmother loves everyone regardless of anything. The good-natured conversation could have ended there, but obviously my mother had to get involved once we are sitting at the table.

— In any case, mother-in-law, you know well that Caitlyn has no time for love. For that she would have to be interested in someone other than herself, and this is not about to happen.

My mother is getting more and more bitter. I wonder why she forces herself to come to see me when she clearly does not want to. No doubt that is not my grandmother's fault. She knows how to be very persuasive. I would like to be able to tell my family that I love them, but that would require my parents to accept me as I am and they would never do it. Today it is too late and my silence is always taken as a rejection. In fact, it is more an acceptance of the situation. As always, my grandmother serves as a buffer in our conflicting relationships. I believe that without her, there would be no interaction at all between my parents and me.

─ Let's order. It's getting late for an old lady like me.

I choose my dishes, but I feel oppressed between the heavy silence at our table and the hubbub of other customers' conversations. My grandmother knows me well and squeezes my hand under the table.

─ Go ahead, you have time.

I get up hurriedly, ignoring my mother who is already starting to grumble. The air from the outside makes me feel good. The light breeze caresses my bare legs and makes my cheeks rosy. I take advantage of the calm of the night to take a few steps before leaning against a wall and looking up at the sky. There is not a single cloud and the stars twinkle on this beautiful black velvet carpet. I could stay here for hours to let this peace invade my tormented soul. When I was little, I dreamed of flying away and dancing on a cloud. Nevertheless, a sound of footsteps on my left makes me startle and realize where I am. I am a lonely woman in a dark alley in New York. I straighten up, an uneasiness choking my guts. I turn back to get to the door of the restaurant. I am not very far and yet the distance suddenly seems enormous. I feel like someone is following me. I am sure of it. Footsteps. Heavy breathing. I do not like it and a dull anguish squeezes my stomach while my heart beats fast. I quicken my pace, relieved until I finally reach my goal, and I thank the doorman who takes the lead by letting me pass without me having to slow down. In the shelter of the glass doors I turn around, but I only see the deserted and silent street. There is no one on the horizon. My heart resumes a calmer rhythm, but my head is stuck in anxiety. Emotions mix in me, threatening to cause an autistic crisis like I have not experienced in a long time. I take refuge in one of the toilet cubicles, I lock it, I curl up on myself on the floor, and I start to swing back and forth. I need to dance to externalize the fear that consumes me. Only it is impossible to do it right now. So I try to refocus on myself and to clear my mind. Easier said than done!

There is a click of heels on the tiles in front of my door. I back off instinctively, but I am blocked by the toilet bowl behind my back.

─ Caitlyn kitten? You're okay? I saw you in the lobby, but you didn't come back to the table.

Hearing Grandma's voice makes me feel good. I choose to focus on that, on her and her voice, counting in my head. Inspiration, 1, 2, 3, 4. Expiration, 1, 2, 3, 4. I repeat the exercise five times in a row. My grandmother, after making a round trip along all the cubicles, stops at my door.

─ Open up kitten. I'm sure you're here.

I extend my arm to unlock the lock and Granny opens it gently. Her eyes are sad when she looks at me. She squats in front of me and strokes my hair as she always does when she feels I am tormented.

─ What's going on, darling?

I do not want to talk about it. Not now, and certainly not here. I am going to tell her everything. I need to. But I would do it at home, in the safety of my apartment. If I am still safe there, which I'm not sure about anymore.

─ Your parents love you Caitlyn Cat. They just don't know how to behave with you. They can't understand you.

─ I know, Granny. It doesn't matter.

I prefer that she thinks my reaction is due to this awkward dinner, for the moment anyway.

─ Come on, come on, darling. Don't stay on the floor, you'll catch a cold on that frozen tile.

She helps me get up and arranges the bottom of my dress which is slightly pulled up.

─ You are past the age of showing your panties, my dear.

Her comment draws a smile from me and we join our table hand in hand.

─ Finally here you are again. What were you doing Caitlyn? Were you handing out autographs?

I could laugh about it if only I did not want to cry. My mother is convinced that I prefer fame to family life by their side. How wrong she is! What I have chosen is normality, freedom. In the end, I chose to free my mind from all the feelings that bombard me all the time, to live an ordinary life, even if most people do not think it is that ordinary. It is true that a picture of me dressed as a classical dancer is on half of the buses of the city and that I regularly make an appearance in all trade magazines. However, all I see is that I do what I love. And until recently, I was able to ignore all the crap around me.

— You could at least sit down, so we can finally start!

— Sorry. Of course!

Indeed, as usual, I was lost in my thoughts and I remained frozen next to the table. Then I sit on my chair and the meal goes like all the others, in an almost religious silence, only interspersed with phrases from my grandmother who desperately tries to renew the dialogue between all of us.

— Maybe tomorrow we could visit the city together.

— Certainly not! Our national star surely has better things to do than spend time with us.

Definitely my mother will never forgive me for being who I am: independent. When I was diagnosed with autism, she was upset, my tantrums being unmanageable, but she also thought that I would always need her by my side to succeed in life, and she liked that idea. She thought I would be mommy’s little girl forever. The future has shown her otherwise.

I would rather answer grandma so I do not argue with my mom.

— I'm not working tomorrow. We are given a day off. I just have to practice in the morning and then I'm all yours.

— A real miracle! It doesn't have to happen often, because you don't even take the time to call us!

Grandma intervenes, as always.

— I'd love to visit Ellis Island. We have never been there before.

I have never set foot there either. Being stuck on a ferry has never excited me more than that, but walking away with my grandma from the Big Apple and my worries, even for a few hours, is a very seductive idea.

— That's a great idea, Granny. We will go there after lunch. I'll get the tickets before my rehearsal.

— And you don't even ask us if we would like to join you, of course!

I swallow the lump that is blocking my throat. My mother will not spare me anything tonight. Looks like it is time to settle our accounts. Unfortunately, I can't stand it but I'd rather be docile than face it, even if I break the armrest of my chair by clenching my fingers on it.

— Dad, mommy, would you like to come with us to Ellis Island tomorrow?

— Well, it so happens that we cannot do it. We are working tomorrow. We are not available when the lady decides to give us some of her time.

That is what it is all about! And after that they are going to blame me for making no effort. I bite my tongue to avoid screaming, so hard that blood fills my mouth. I cannot wait for this meal to end so that I can finally take refuge at home and get rid of my overflow of tension. I have set up at home a whole room for this single purpose with a mirror and a crossbar on the wall. A mini personal dance hall that will serve me well if I want to be able to close my eyes tonight.

Finally home! My comfortable income allows me to have this big 3-bedroom apartment in the heart of New York, close to the American Ballet Theater, so I do not have to take public transportation. A real luxury for me. I can walk everywhere and that suits me very well. I open the door and ask my grandmother to come in before me. She may be fit for her age, but I feel she is tired and I am sure she will be looking forward to go to her room. Because she has her own room in my house. I never invite anyone but her, so the third room has been furnished according to her tastes and desires.

— Look, Caitlyn Cat. A letter has been slipped under your door. Is it that you have a secret admirer whose existence you have hidden from me?

 

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