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“Nora, hun, why don’t you soak your feet for a little while?” Mom’s voice comes across the line, loud and crisp.
“I know; I will. I promise.”
I’ve neglected them because I’ve been so tired when I finally get back to the hotel to do much more than eat and shower. I look toward the bathroom, then back at my phone laying beside me on the bed. Turning toward the window, I note that I need to close the damn curtains at some point, but everything hurts, and I don’t want to move.
“Are you there?” Mom asks as I now stare at the ugly popcorn spackle on the ceiling.
I can’t let my aching feet go any longer. I muster up what little energy I have and swing my legs over the side of the bed and make my way to the ensuite in my hotel room.
“Yes, I’m here. I’m just tired.” I walk into the small but efficient bathroom and flip on the lights.
“I know, baby, but all your hard work is paying off! Your dad and I can’t wait to see your show in a few weeks.”
My heart warms at the thought of seeing the two of them after months of traveling. It’s been an exhausting but exhilarating experience, and I’m so thankful to be a part of it.
I turn on the water in the tub, and I plug the drain before setting my phone on the back of the toilet. I drop my shorts and pull my shirt off quickly before stepping into the rising hot water. Another sigh leaves my lips as it caresses my toes. I wiggle them a little before I sink into the water.
“Hun, we need to talk.” Mom’s tone sounds strained, and I brace myself for where I’m pretty sure this conversation is going.
“I thought we were already doing that, Mom.”
She chuckles slightly. “You know that’s not what I mean. Your father and I are worried.”
And that’s the worst part of all of this. I know they’re concerned, and that makes me feel so damn guilty.
A whispered and broken, “I know,” slips past my lips as I sink further into the filling tub.
A knot forms low in my belly. There was another bouquet of dead roses left after tonight’s show. When it first happened, I didn’t think much of it. It was just some dead flowers. No note, no clue as to who they came from. I tossed them in the trash and thought nothing else of it…until the next bouquet.
I remember that night so clearly.
I bend down in front of my dressing room door, and a chill runs up my arm as I pick up the decaying flowers. A few dried petals fall from the bouquet. An elegant ribbon is wrapped around the stems, preventing any thorns from slicing my skin.
What really catches my breath is the bow wrapped around the top of the ribbon with the message, “With love, forever,” scrolled across the tail of the ribbon.
Once was strange, but twice within a few weeks doesn’t feel like a coincidence. It feels intentional, and that has an ice-cold chill racing up my spine as I turn and look down the length of the hallway. My head swivels left then right, but I see no one I don’t know. Fellow dancers as well as those who wear a venue uniform, which consists of matching polos.
I storm back into my dressing room and slam the door shut behind me. My thoughts run wild with endless possibilities. Maybe they weren’t meant for me? That seems unlikely since this year I scored a leading role in the production, which came with the perk of my own dressing room. No other dancers share this room with me, and my name is printed on the door.
My mind races with other scenarios. Maybe it was just someone’s weird but harmless way of showing their support? I don’t know who would think dead fucking flowers would be flattering, but maybe?
I decide I could stand here all night while running through every possibility and drive myself crazy doing it. I don’t have the time or energy to do any of that, however, so I throw the flowers in the trash and slam the lid down with a resounding clunk.
My anxiety eases some after the flowers are out of my sight. That is, until the next bouquet comes… Then the one after that. Every show, every city. “With love, forever” seems to always find me.
“It’s time, Nora. We need to call someone in to help with this. Your dad and I can’t be at every show.”
I groan as I lean my head back against the tub wall and rub my feet together softly to soothe the ache in my heels and toes.
“I’m not ready to do that, Mom. It’s just been flowers. No one has approached me or done anything threatening.”
“I’m not willing to wait around until something more threatening happens, Nora.” Her voice rises in panic and anxiety.
I know this is hard on them, and if I’m being completely honest, I’m a little more than just freaked out. However, I don’t want to show that to my parents. I don’t want them to worry any more than they already are. My parents have sacrificed so much for me. This is just one more expense, one more worry that I don’t want them to have.
When I don’t respond, Mom softens her tone. “Baby, we’re just so worried. What if something happens when we aren’t there?”
“I don’t want a bodyguard. I’m surrounded by people all day, every day. The venues have security. I don’t think it’s needed. It’s just some flowers,” I reply, trying to ease her worry, but I know it’s a futile effort.
