I Went Down (NaNoWriMo Read-Along)

29 Emmy Jane

Emiliana finished the night as a diva should: with a sweeping exit to the dressing room beneath a cover of appreciative applause.

Nearly all of the other girls were there already, peeling off the costumes now slick with sweat and carefully wiping off the colors from their faces. Reddened cheeks and dark shadows beneath tired eyes reappeared in the mirrors. Emiliana sat down in front of one of the tables and set her feathered headdress down on its stand to wait for the next show. She dipped a cloth into the cold cream and began to smooth it over her skin. In the mirror, she saw the door to the dressing room open. She had not seen Mister Primrose in the audience tonight, but her heart seized suddenly in her chest.

It was only Harper in the doorway, with the same half-shy, half-proud smile that he always wore when he was sent into the dressing room: shy to see the girls half-dressed, proud that they trusted his presence when they were half-dressed. Emiliana pressed the cloth over her eyes, rubbing away her eyeshadow and willing her pulse to stop racing.

Davina squealed happily and there was an excited little murmur from the other girls. Emiliana removed the cloth and turned around. Harper was carrying a tray of champagne glasses.

He must have come back. Her heart would not stop racing.

“Drinks on the house, ladies,” Harper said. “We made a mint tonight, so this is special from Cal for all of you who hypnotized the audience into drinking like fish tonight.”

Emiliana let out a long, ragged breath. Keep breathing. And straighten that spine—better posture makes better voice, better projection. She untwisted her fingers from the cloth. It had transferred streaks of green, blue, and black from her face to her hands.

“It was all you,” Luessa said. The other girls nodded, even Pearline.

Harper held one of the crystal flutes out to Emiliana. She took it and set it down on the table before anyone could see her hands shaking. “Thank you,” she said. “I’d rather have something a bit stronger, though.”

“I’ve got something,” Pearline said. She crouched down and felt underneath one the vanity tables until she pulled out a half full bottle of amber liquor. “Marietta left it there,” the Gusotti girl said, “and she won’t miss it.” She plucked an empty glass off another table and poured two fingers’ worth into it. “And our dear Contessa never sang like that.” She held the glass out to Emiliana.

It was sturdier than the delicate flute of champagne, and she wrapped her fingers around it without fear of crushing or dropping the glass. A thick aroma wafted up from the alcohol—of course Marietta had preferred one of the Angiers liquors left to steep with some herb or berry until it picked up the flavor.

“To Emiliana Jospehine,” Luessa said.

“To Emiliana,” the other girls echoed, lifting their glasses. Harper’s voice added a contrasting tenor.

Marietta’s liquor was sweet, with some herbal bite that might have been anise or fennel. Her mother would not have approved. The flavor filled her mouth and Emiliana swallowed quickly. There was little of her life in recent weeks that her mother would have approved of.

“Thank you,” Emiliana said. Everyone was looking at her expectantly. Should she burst into tears, or tell them that this was just the beginning of her rise to fame? She set the empty glass down on the table, where the mirror immediately doubled it. “Thank you,” she said again. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Luessa reached out as Emiliana stood up, but stopped before her hand reached Emiliana’s arm. Harper stepped aside to let her pass through the door and she left the dressing room, suddenly quiet, for the comfort of the running water.