Read Online The Shadow of the Bear: A Fairy Tale Retold by Regina Doman - Free Book Online
Authors: Regina Doman
Ads: Link
time, she forgot her doubts about reality in the sheer delight of illusion. But, as Rose reminded her during the intermission, perhaps it wasn’t illusion. Perhaps it was a glimpse of what reality was really like.
It was a puzzle. Which was more true? Their own dark existence or the grace and brilliance of Susanna, Figaro, and the Countess? Most people would say that daily life is more real, Blanche supposed, and that the opera was merely a frivolous and expensive diversion. Then why was the loveliness of Mozart’s creation filling a hungry gap within her that no “reality” could fill?
Many people left after the second act, so Bear suggested that they should snag some seats. Blanche didn’t want to, in case the people came back, but Rose thought it was a good idea. So they found three good seats much closer to the stage and huddled there to enjoy the rest of the show. Despite Blanche’s nervous glances at the ushers, no one ordered them back to their posts at the rear.
“We should always get standing-room-only seats!” Rose gushed when they came out into the frosty night air. “It was wonderful!”
Bear chuckled. “Well, I’ll only accept those kind of tickets from now on, if you say so,” he said.
They all laughed, and Blanche felt the metaphysical heaviness she had been sensing lift. She felt lighthearted suddenly.
“Come on, there’s another subway down this way a bit.” Bear led them off in a different direction. “It’s a little safer this time of night.”
This time, they were in no hurry. The snow continued to come down in heavy showers, and there were fewer people around. The streets in this part of New York were broad and the sidewalks were wide. Huge glass windows looked into all sorts of upscale shops. Rose and Blanche dawdled, looking in the windows of the shops they passed, and Bear let them take their time.
“Oh, just look at that dress!” Rose breathed, coming to a stop and gazing at one of the mannequins in a fashionable boutique. “Now that’s what I would buy if I had the money!”
“Yes, but it would be almost sinful to buy it—it probably costs so much,” Blanche agreed, looking longingly at the dress in question. It was a long white linen dress with a lace collar and covered buttons. The slim mannequin wore white ballet shoes and a modest straw hat with white ribbons trailing down the back.
“Couldn’t you just die? Imagine wearing that—on a windswept field—surrounded by wild flowers—ah, rapture!” Rose whispered.
“Couldn’t you make a dress like that?” Bear asked, looking critically at the motionless figure in white. “I thought you girls sewed a lot.”
“Oh, probably,” Rose agreed. “But it would be so elegant to buy one—just once, you know.”
“The material is nicer than what you can get in the fabric stores, and those dresses really are well made,” Blanche added.
“Although I suppose we could scour the garment district for fabric like that, if we really wanted to …” Rose trailed off. “But it wouldn’t be the same, somehow.” She sunk into thought as they continued walking, the girls giving a wistful farewell to the white dress.
“It’s more the idea of the dress than the actual dress that attracts me,” Blanche admitted to Bear as they walked on.
“That’s it! I mean, how often do you have a chance to wear a white dress like that?” Rose pointed out. They passed another clothes store where a tall mannequin modeled a fluted silk gown with a long train. “Oh! How exquisite! I intend to have one some day, just to wear around the house for fun.” Rose gave another sigh.
Bear whimpered softly and put his hands to his face in pretended despair. “I had no idea you girls thought so much about clothes.”
“You should be grateful that we think about anything else,” Blanche said with a straight face.
As they reached the opening of the subway tunnel, Bear halted. “Say, would you girls like to see a special place of mine?
It was a puzzle. Which was more true? Their own dark existence or the grace and brilliance of Susanna, Figaro, and the Countess? Most people would say that daily life is more real, Blanche supposed, and that the opera was merely a frivolous and expensive diversion. Then why was the loveliness of Mozart’s creation filling a hungry gap within her that no “reality” could fill?
Many people left after the second act, so Bear suggested that they should snag some seats. Blanche didn’t want to, in case the people came back, but Rose thought it was a good idea. So they found three good seats much closer to the stage and huddled there to enjoy the rest of the show. Despite Blanche’s nervous glances at the ushers, no one ordered them back to their posts at the rear.
“We should always get standing-room-only seats!” Rose gushed when they came out into the frosty night air. “It was wonderful!”
Bear chuckled. “Well, I’ll only accept those kind of tickets from now on, if you say so,” he said.
They all laughed, and Blanche felt the metaphysical heaviness she had been sensing lift. She felt lighthearted suddenly.
“Come on, there’s another subway down this way a bit.” Bear led them off in a different direction. “It’s a little safer this time of night.”
This time, they were in no hurry. The snow continued to come down in heavy showers, and there were fewer people around. The streets in this part of New York were broad and the sidewalks were wide. Huge glass windows looked into all sorts of upscale shops. Rose and Blanche dawdled, looking in the windows of the shops they passed, and Bear let them take their time.
“Oh, just look at that dress!” Rose breathed, coming to a stop and gazing at one of the mannequins in a fashionable boutique. “Now that’s what I would buy if I had the money!”
“Yes, but it would be almost sinful to buy it—it probably costs so much,” Blanche agreed, looking longingly at the dress in question. It was a long white linen dress with a lace collar and covered buttons. The slim mannequin wore white ballet shoes and a modest straw hat with white ribbons trailing down the back.
“Couldn’t you just die? Imagine wearing that—on a windswept field—surrounded by wild flowers—ah, rapture!” Rose whispered.
“Couldn’t you make a dress like that?” Bear asked, looking critically at the motionless figure in white. “I thought you girls sewed a lot.”
“Oh, probably,” Rose agreed. “But it would be so elegant to buy one—just once, you know.”
“The material is nicer than what you can get in the fabric stores, and those dresses really are well made,” Blanche added.
“Although I suppose we could scour the garment district for fabric like that, if we really wanted to …” Rose trailed off. “But it wouldn’t be the same, somehow.” She sunk into thought as they continued walking, the girls giving a wistful farewell to the white dress.
“It’s more the idea of the dress than the actual dress that attracts me,” Blanche admitted to Bear as they walked on.
“That’s it! I mean, how often do you have a chance to wear a white dress like that?” Rose pointed out. They passed another clothes store where a tall mannequin modeled a fluted silk gown with a long train. “Oh! How exquisite! I intend to have one some day, just to wear around the house for fun.” Rose gave another sigh.
Bear whimpered softly and put his hands to his face in pretended despair. “I had no idea you girls thought so much about clothes.”
“You should be grateful that we think about anything else,” Blanche said with a straight face.
As they reached the opening of the subway tunnel, Bear halted. “Say, would you girls like to see a special place of mine?
Similar Books
