His Dancing Star

Chapter 10

Ed stood on the catamaran, feeling it gently bob beneath him as if it sought to soothe his fractured soul. He'd spent the night there as he sometime did when he was feeling fragile, but his sleep had been ragged and the morning light seemed brutally bright and exposing. His coffee tasted bitter and he wondered how he'd manage to keep himself occupied today.

It wouldn't be with Lina. That was twice he'd managed to screw things up with her; he couldn't imagine she'd want to see him again after he'd slammed her life choices and stormed off. Even as the words were leaving his mouth, he knew it was a bad idea to allow his feelings show. It wasn't about him at all; he should have stayed out of it.

But it was bullshit – that much was true. In the same way he wouldn't have stayed silent if he saw someone getting beaten in the street or noticed a child being abused, he couldn't shut his mouth about this issue. In a perfect world, maybe Lina would take his words away with her when she left; maybe it would make even the slightest difference.

Or maybe she wouldn't. Victims often didn't realise they were suffering. Lina seemed to view her suffering as art. Who was he to argue? Art was supposed to be pain. Mozart died young, Van Gough lost an ear. Perhaps generations to come would view her dance in the same way, an outpouring of beauty borne in agony.

His dark thoughts were at odds with the brilliant sunshine dousing him as he finished his morning caffeine. Perhaps it was time for him to move on from the island, sail away and never look back. Being here was supposed to be a clean break from his old life, but after the last few days in Lina's presence, all his old wounds had been uncovered, and instead of healing scars, he'd discovered festering, infected pus. He sighed deeply. Maybe more sleep would help. He felt as though he could sleep for a thousand years, and that if he never woke up, it might not be a bad thing.

"Hey."

The soft voice caused him to spin. Lina stood on the deck of the cat, wearing a green and blue bikini under a floating kaftan in silver. "Good morning."

"Lina." He staggered forwards, a parched man in search of water. "I'm so sorry for last night, I shouldn't have said anything."

"Don't be." Her smile was pained. "I've been waiting for someone to tell me for years that I wasn't crazy for not wanting this life. No one's really been on my side since my dad died."

Feeling the fragility in the air between them, Ed didn't dare move. He stayed frozen in place as he asked, "When did he die? You haven't spoken about him before."

"I was ten. He was more than just my dad; he was my friend. He had heart disease, died of a heart attack. I miss him so much."

Something occurred to him. "Lina... You said he was on your side – what do you mean?"

"I don't know. He was always there for me. My mother wanted me to get really serious about my ballet when I was really young, but Dad always insisted that I was allowed to have a childhood." A ghost of a smile crossed her face. "Let her be a kid, he used to say to my mother. Let her be happy."

"What do you think he'd say if he was here with you now?"

Tears had begun to fall in heavy drops down her cheeks, and much as he wanted to comfort her, he sense this moment wasn't his to share. She whispered, "I think he'd be proud of everything I've done. But I think he'd support me in wanting to be happy."

She broke down, sobbing into her hands and falling into the nearest chair. Ed moved forwards, treading with care as if she was a wild animal, easily spooked. "Lina. I'm sure your dad would have wanted you to be happy. All good parents want that for their children."