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Flo’s eyes flashed. “Yes, there is—is it true you’re married?”
And suddenly, it all made sense. Roy. Roy had done this to her. Hadn’t he vowed revenge?
“I can see from your expression that it’s true. That solves our troubles. We’ll arrange for an exclus
ive with Harriet about your sudden wedding. How happy you are. The public can’t get enough of love stories. That’ll throw any vultures off the scent of scandal.”
“This ain’t a love story,” Theta mumbled. Roy. She’d never be free of him. Her hands grew hot. “I-I need some air. I think I’m gonna be sick.”
“Miss Knight!” Mr. Ziegfeld said crisply. “This is my show. I have a reputation to protect, and that includes your reputation. Without me, you’ll be nothing. Ask yourself whether you want to be a star or a nothing. I’ll expect your answer by tomorrow at the latest. I hope you’ll make the smart choice.”
On the way out, Theta tried to ignore the stares and whispers coming her way. She wanted to put her hands on the walls and watch the place burn down with everybody inside. Just thinking that frightened Theta. She really did feel sick now. Looking back, it seemed like her life had been a series of traps and snares. And every time she got free, somebody else tried to tie her up again.
There was a note waiting for her when she got home, and this time it wasn’t from Memphis. It was wrapped up with an insulting picture of an actor in blackface. Told you I’d get even, Betty, it read.
Theta sat at her kitchen table staring dumbly at the note for some time, until she heard Henry whistling as he came through the door.
“What’s the matter, cher?”
Theta took a shuddering breath, trying to draw it deeply into her lungs, but she couldn’t. “He said he’d get me, and he did. I thought I could outrun him. I was wrong. Flo knows. About me and Memphis. It was Roy. He told Harriet Henderson and she called Flo.”
“Did he can you?”
“No. But if I don’t break it off with Memphis and move into a nunnery where he can watch me, he will. I’ll lose his ‘protection.’ Harriet’ll run with her story. I’ll be finished. And who knows what’ll happen to Memphis then?”
“Aww, Theta.” Henry pulled her into a hug, and if Theta hadn’t been completely numb, she would’ve broken down in the kindness of his arms.
“If I say yes, Hen, he’ll own me. Everybody always wants to own me. If I don’t say yes, I’ll lose everything.” The room’s edges kept blurring. Theta’s eyes stung.
Henry kissed the top of her head. “Not everything. You still got Memphis. And me. You’ve got all of us. You got your family.”
And Roy. She could picture him at home in his room, smug and mean, ready for the next fight. That was the trouble with men like Roy. They just kept coming.
Unless you stopped them.
Theta pressed away from Henry. Her body didn’t quite feel like hers, like when Roy used to hit her and she’d slip away to the ceiling, as if it were all happening to somebody else. She put on her coat.
“Theta? Where are you going, darlin’?”
“To end it. To end Roy.”
“Theta? Darlin’. That’s not the answer.” Henry laced his fingers through hers, and she barely felt it. “Let’s talk it over. I’ll put on some shoes and change my shirt, and we’ll go down to the Automat and have some lemon meringue pie, and we’ll figure out this whole mess. Okay, cher?”
“Sure,” Theta said. She floated in her skin. Nothing felt real.
Henry’s voice drifted out from the bedroom, where he was getting dressed. He was telling her some story about Sam and Evie. It was just blather. He was trying to cheer her up. She wasn’t really listening. She picked up the day’s newspaper. In her hands, the edges blackened and curled up. And then she slipped out the door.
The street lights blurred into halos as the elevated train rumbled into the station. Theta rested her head against the window and watched the city fly by. He’d done it to her again. Not with his actual fists this time, but it was a punch all the same. Theta had spent so much energy trying to convince herself that she could never be anything like Roy. That there was not the same violence in her soul.
She could. There was.
What was it Dr. Jung had called it? The shadow self. Right now Shadow Theta enjoyed the heat pooling in her palms. Shadow Theta wanted Roy to know her power. She wanted to see the fear in his eyes.
Theta exited the train. She walked the crowded, dirty sidewalks of the Bowery, ignoring the men calling after her. Theta was barely aware of her body. She pressed against a wooden post and didn’t care as it warped and browned under her touch. Sweat dripped down the valley between her shoulder blades. Her internal temperature soared. She dropped her coat in the street. She didn’t need it. Her mind whirred:
“Where’s my supper, Betty Sue? You need reminding that I don’t like ham?”
The village burning. The men shooting. People bleeding into snow like trampled petals. Her frantic mother trying to run. The basket left on the church steps.
