Katie just stared at Riley, shaking.
“Katie, what’s wrong?”
Katie just kept repeating Quinn’s name until she finally said, “Quinn’s gone.”
* * * *
Katie rotates her body around the pole and hangs upside down, her shirt hanging awkwardly, like it was never meantto be there. She hugs the pole with her arms while she slowly lowers her legs down, pulls them up, and lowers them back down again. The pole holds her up like Quinn used to. Katie grabs part of the awkward, dangling, black ripped up T-shirt and holds the material in her fist. The fabric, already compromised, tears easily. She throws the shirt to the side and continues her dance on the stage.
* * * *
Visions and memories of Quinn flash through Katie’s head like they are stuck on rewind and fast forward, rewind and fast forward. They won’t stop. Katie sees Quinn sitting at a table in front of her. The memory of Quinn is see-through and faded and nothing like the actual Quinn at all.
* * * *
“Monolith” pours into the room like a message from another world as Katie crawls, her tears flowing freely. She doesn’t try to stop them. Everyone in the room understands the weight of this. She isn’t performing. Not tonight. She leans back, chest rising, throat exposed, offering herself up like a sacrifice. Katie knows she will never be the same again.
She quickly flashes back to her and Quinn walking home from the bars, arm in arm, stumbling down the city streets in the early hours of the morning with the daylight creeping in behind them, laughing like there was a joke only the two of them understood.
* * * *
Riley, still watching Katie, realizes she is crying. She wipes the tears away and continues watching, afraid to lookaway.
She once again replays that awful night in her head.
Katie just kept saying, “Quinn’s gone.”
“Gone where, Katie?”
Katie pulled a cigarette out of a crumpled pack. Riley lit it, noticing that every part of Katie’s body was shaking. Riley felt sick. She knew the answer before Katie ever managed to get it out of her mouth.
Quinn had decided she’d had enough of this life. She’d planned it out. She made sure it would happen without any interference.
Riley had seen Quinn a few days before at the bar, without Katie. It wasn’t a weird thing, really. Both of them had their own lives, although Quinn was the more secretive one of the two. Katie and Quinn were never apart for long. They would find each other and tell each other all about the adventures they’d had in each other’s absence. They would hoot and holler and high five each other and say things like, “Oooooh, girl!” and laugh harder than Riley had ever heard two women laugh together. They were like twin souls in spite of how different they were. Katie still had a softness about her that Quinn no longer had. Quinn still had a confidence about her that Katie no longer had.
* * * *
The lights on the stage land on Katie’s body like she’s locked in an interrogation room, like there is nowhere left to hide now, like Quinn is on stage with her, like Katie has something so incredibly important to say. It transcends the laws of communication with the dead. She moves as if she is in the middle of bargaining for Quinn’s soul, rolling her hips, uncontrolled, giving this dance everything she has inside of her. Katie is always on fire, but this time is different. Everymovement is a confession of a pain so loud, louder than any scream could ever possibly sound.
The beat pounds on around her while she dances like she is busy summoning ghosts. Katie rises slightly from the floor and feels Quinn’s energy circle her. Katie catches her breath before she gets on all fours and arches, deep, deeper, crawling and then rolling onto her back. She folds herself in half, gets back up and grabs the pole again. She moves around and down the pole only to pull herself back up, holding herself there, legs crossed and wrapped around it, boots locked together, thighs gripping the pole as a last defense. They are. Katie’s upper body dips backward, and she holds herself there, hanging, demanding that everyone in the room feels something. And they do.
Katie spirals down the pole and rises again, her hips circling with a force so powerful, so desperate, she wonders if the entire universe can feel this plea.
She prays in her head to whoever is listening, “Give me my fucking Quinn back.”
* * * *
Katie remembers her legs running to Riley that horrible night, running without asking her permission or even thinking about where or who they were running to. More muscle memory. Riley meant safety and Katie was afraid that she would forget how to breathe that night.
Katie is afraid she will forget how to breathe right now.
She slides down to the ground. Her thighs part slightly at first, and then wider as she slowly makes her way across the stage on her back. She thrusts her hips up and off the floor as she takes her hand and traces her stomach all the way up and across her ribs. The crowd holds its breath collectively. It is so personal that no one is sure if they should be watching, but no one looksaway.
The song is almost over now.
Katie makes her way up the pole one last time, holding herself at the top with her legs. Her body is numb with grief. She presses her face to the cold metal; not sure she can move anymore. She closes her eyes and sees Quinn. She tries to hold onto the image of her for as long as she can before it disappears, trying to memorize any part of her she might forget. Katie doesn’t want to forget. She pauses, causing some of her tears to fall onto the floor, creating tiny splatter patterns on the ground. Once in motion again, she spins and slides down the pole, falling to her knees at the bottom, imitating prayer.
* * * *
