Read Online The Ballerina and the Revolutionary by Carmilla Voiez - Free Book Online Page B

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    ‘You guys have chemistry.’
    ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Chrissie! Don’t you know me at all?’
    ‘Falling in love won’t turn you into your mother.’
    I growled at her. ‘I thought you understood, Chrissie. Shit! You really think that’s what it’s about? You think I’m afraid I might become my mother!’
    ‘Shhh, sweetheart. I love you.’ Chrissie clasped my hand and lifted my fingers to her mouth.
    Trembling, I pulled away. My eyes glistened. ‘No,’ I whispered.
    ‘Close your eyes.’
    ‘No.’ My voice was louder this time, more assertive. ‘I don’t want this.’
    ‘What do you want?’
    ‘I don’t know. To be left alone, maybe?’
    ‘You’re not an island, Crow.’
    ‘No, I’m not an island. I’m a mountain.’
    ‘Shit.’ Chrissie’s face turned pale. She stood up from my bed and shook her head before running out of the door. ‘Dinner.’
    I lay there for a few moments, thinking. Why didn’t Chrissie of all people understand? I’d told her enough times. Oh well, I thought. I guess I’ll have to try and explain myself yet again. I sighed, it was exhausting being me. So many people took who they were for granted and anyone outside of that, like me, had a constant struggle against erasure. I got dressed and stumbled down the staircase, still shaking.
    Chrissie stood by the stove, the lid of the stew pot in her hand. ‘It’s okay. Nothing’s burned. Here ...’ She held out a wooden spoon for me to taste.
    I nodded appreciatively and made socially acceptable noises to show her I found it delicious. She grinned and filled two bowls.
    The flavours of Chrissie’s curry were intense. Spices danced on my tongue as I devoured bowlfuls of vegetable curry, pausing only to smile appreciatively. The room fell silent except for the sounds of eating. Chrissie seemed thoughtful and I was still trying to decide what words to use to explain how I felt, yet again. How sex and romance were things I had never craved. How I couldn't even accept the treachery of my body and its soft curves. How I was not and would never be a damsel in distress, waiting to be saved.
    Mozart’s Sonata in C, its beauty all but destroyed by the tinny chiming, broke the silence. Shaking myself free from my reverie, I peered through the kitchen door and into the shadowy hallway. It must have been Vivienne’s doorbell. I wondered whether it would be Tomas or a door-to-door salesman. When I opened the door, I was greeted instead by Scott.
    ‘Is it okay? I mean are you guys busy?’
    I hovered by the door, confused. ‘I thought ... Didn’t you say Monday? ... Sorry, yeah ... I mean, sure - come in.’
    ‘Hi Scott,’ Chrissie called from the kitchen. ‘I made curry. Want some?’
    ‘No, thanks. I’ve eaten ... Is it a bad time? I brought wine.’
    ‘It’s never a bad time for wine,’ I said. ‘I’ll find some glasses.’
    I led Scott to the kitchen, and asked him to sit at the table. As he entered the room everything seemed brighter, colours more vivid and anything seemed possible. Scott confused my senses, feelings of security and excitement seemed to radiate from him and the air crackled with energy when he was close. Closing my eyes, I forced myself to look away from his face, hunting instead for three wine glasses. When I found them, they were too high to reach. I looked for a ladder and decided instead to use a chair. Without waiting to be asked, Scott arrived at my side. As he reached above me, I smelled his warm, musky scent. Seconds felt like hours until, exhaling, I moved away.
    ‘Your mum okay without you?’ Chrissie asked, breaking the spell.
    Scott grinned. He seemed to know he was being teased. ‘She’s fine. I just like to cook for her, you know, when she gets home from work. It’s only fair. After all, living with Mum gives me freedom from financial worries.’
    I nodded. ‘Gainful employment isn’t my cup of tea either. Even so I couldn’t live with Vivienne.’
    ‘I think I have some