Page 19 of The Wilder Widows

“Just thinking.” I took a stilling breath when James opened the door. It brought back memories of my years here when this door would open, and fans would cheer while the dancers poured out. I missed the sound of them as I climbed out absent the cheers. Instead of glittering dancers filing out behind me like clowns in a clown car, the three little widows were my entourage.

Even though I wasn’t dancing tonight, I still felt the jitters that used to preface my dancing in the early years. When I claimed our tickets from will-call and headed toward the entrance, they only amplified. The ladies trailed behind me while I searched for the doors to our section, but I was too in awe of the atmosphere to speak to them when they continued with their constant barrage of questions. The crowds gathered, and the lights dimmed and flickered, warning us the show was about to begin. I looked to the usher dressed in a formal red uniform similar to the old days and remembered how they used to join us after the show on occasion at the parties we dancers flocked to.

“Alice? Do you know where you’re going?” Doris asked for the fourth time, and this time I huffed a breath and turned to face her.

“Yes, Doris. It’s section twenty-two. This one.” I pointed toward the numbers above the door.

“Tickets?” the young usher asked when we stepped up. He was handsome, and I thought back in my dancing days, I would have flirted with him mercilessly only to leave him hanging when the high rollers came calling.

Too excited to see the show, I forwent my usual routine of flirting with handsome men and handed him my ticket. Then I saw my trembling hand and snatched it back before anyone noticed. Glancing over my shoulder at the girls to make sure none of them witnessed my weakness, my excitement, or maybe it was fear, I was glad to see their eyes all roving around the elegant room instead of fixated on my momentary lapse of confidence.

“This way,” the usher said, and I motioned for the ladies to follow. When we stepped inside the theatre, my feet stuttered to a stop. The dark stage caught my eye first. I remembered standing at the edge of the curtain, staring at the dimly lit stage, just waiting for the moment the lights flicked on and beckoned me to dance beneath them. Now I viewed the stage from a different angle, from the audience, but still, I waited for the moment the lights would flood the darkness and the stage would once again call my name.

“Here you are,” he said, gesturing to the fourth-row seats I’d managed to snag.

“So exciting,” Sylvie whispered in my ear while we made our way to our seats. “Are you excited?” She took her place beside me. Marge sat on my left, and Doris landed just beside her.

“It’s just research,” I lied, unsure why I couldn’t let on how overwhelming this was for me. How much pain and resentment I felt sitting in the seats instead of standing on the edge of the stage. I could picture them—each girl standing in her spot, stretching, preparing. I knew the excitement they felt, whether it was their first time on stage or whether it was the one girl who proved herself over them all. The one girl who would shine the brightest. The star.

The girl who was supposed to be me.

The lights flashed on, and I blinked as fast as my heart raced while I let my eyes adjust. One by one the dancers fluttered out, a sea of long legs much like my own. The sparkles on their costumes glimmered in the light, and my breath trapped in my throat while I took them all in. Their movement. Their beauty. The smiles they wore not knowing that one day this could be gone, and they could end up alone with nothing but the remnants of their shattered dreams.

“I’m taping it so you can learn the routine,” Sylvie whispered, and I glanced over to see her phone pointed at the stage.

“Thank you,” I whispered back, letting my eyes snap back to the stage and the dancers kicking and leaping in unison.

Then she appeared. The star. Her feathered headdress towered above her, and I fought the tears, remembering how proud I was the day they gave it to me. The day I became the star of the show. When they placed it on my head, the weight of it had surprised me, but I had lifted my chin and straightened my spine, proud to be the one to bear the burden.

She danced to the center of the stage, and I recognized the steps while she moved with precision and grace. The routine was different, but I could envision every move before she flowed into the next. I fought the urge to close my eyes and fade away into the memories of dancing on stage. The ones I saw each night when I closed my eyes. Instead, I kept them open, trained on the dancer I should have been.

Anger seethed inside me at the envy I felt. I was the one people were supposed to be envious of. I was the beautiful one. The talented one. And later in life, I was the rich one. It was my life everyone wanted, yet now I felt the cold grip of envy wrapping around my soul. I would give up all the money and all the jealousy bestowed upon me for just one moment to stand on that stage again and feel what that dancer felt. To relive my youth and feel myself come to life once again. To go back. Everything here transported me back, and I wanted to stay there, trapped for all eternity in a moment in time.

Even the smell was the same. A bouquet of perfumes, sweat, and determination. It was an aroma I would bottle and inhale every minute of my life if it could ever be replicated. But it couldn’t. It was a smell derived from years of hard work, sacrifice, and a desire to shine brighter than the sun. And I hadn’t inhaled it in over forty years. As I watched the show, I let the smells and sounds transport me back to a time when I thought I was invincible. A time when I thought I held the world in the palm of my hand. Instead, I ended up living in a subdivision... alone and unknown.

When the show ended, the crowd launched to their feet, and their cheers rose into a chorus I would never forget. The sound of applause. Appreciation. Adoration. The soundtrack reserved for only the chosen few. The ones who fought through the pain of training eight hours a day. The ones who clawed their way through the rubble to come out on top. The ones who sacrificed everything for the dream of hearing it. Tears stung my eyes while I remembered the feeling of standing in front of it, the sound waves wrapping around me like a warm hug. When I watched the star take her bow, I envied the fact she got to feel the strongest embrace. An embrace that was stolen from me just before I could enjoy it myself.

“Those ladies have legs for days,” Marge said as she sat back down. “I definitely think I’m a lesbian. I’ve got those feelings... down there.”

Even though I usually had a cocky comeback for everything Marge said, I was too busy fighting my tears to say anything.

“You okay?” she asked. “I’m waiting for your backhanded comment.”

“I’m fine,” I said, barely able to choke the words out.

“I got the whole thing on tape.” Sylvie shoved her phone in my face, and I saw the dancers replaying on the small screen. “Now you can watch it and learn all the moves.”

“Thank you,” I said, but I knew I didn’t even need the tape. Even after all these years, I could still memorize a routine in a glance.

“Place is clearing out. We should go.” Marge bumped me with an elbow, and I nodded my response.

One by one we filed out, and I listened to the girls chatter about the incredible show. Silence was all that I could muster while I tried to battle the anger ripping apart my insides. I’d expected to feel excitement at seeing the show and the chance to dance again, but instead, all I felt was regret.

“Over there!” Doris shouted, pointing to our limo.

James saw her waving and grinned before opening the back door. “Welcome back, ladies. Did you enjoy the show?”

“Oh, yes!” Doris nodded as she climbed in. “It was incredible. So shiny!”