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She seemed genuinely curious as she asked her question with the innocence only a child can have. “When are you going to tell Frost you love him?”
My eyes bugged and darted around the room, but obviously no one was there to hear. “Trina, why do you think that I do?”
Trina shrugged delicately. “I know you do, Poe. No one else does. Not even Frost. Maybe least of all Frost. But he’s always loved you.”
I fell to a seat on the edge of the bed, still staring at her in awed disbelief. Trina continued, “My dance teacher says that when we dance we should put our hearts and souls into it. She says the dance should be the pure image of what we feel. You should dance for him, Poe, before you can’t dance anymore at all.”
I shook my head in confusion. “I don’t believe you.”
“What don’t you believe?”
I swallowed hard, trying to blink away the wetness forming in my eyes. “That he loves me. I don’t even know what love is.”
Trina smiled encouragingly, a smile identical to the one I’d probably been wearing when I told her she was beautiful. “No one really knows what love is until they have it, Poe. I don’t think loveisanything. It is what you make it to be. I think it’s trusting each other with everything and understanding everything about each other. Maybe I’m just a dumb kid, but isn’t that what you and Frost have?”
I shook my head again in skepticism. “How could you possibly know any of this? How could you possibly evenconsiderany of this? You’re only, what? Eight? Where did you come up with this stuff?”
She shrugged and smiled. “I’m eleven, actually. I just look younger. Besides, you’re only twenty-four, but you sometimes seem much older. Sometimes people underestimate just how much we know and how much we understand.” She let the words sink in for a moment before adding, “Thanks for talking me out of the stage-fright, Poe.”
Just as she opened the door and turned to go, I jumped to my feet. “Wait! Trina.” She turned back towards me, slowly, expectantly. Mentally, I kicked myself for not letting her go. “Um…has Frost ever…has he ever told you that he…liked me?”
Trina smiled sweetly. “Frost and I tell each other everything. He never specifically said he loved you, Poe, but it’s obvious in every word he says. He gets this look in his eye when he talks about you…like he’s talking about a queen.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re not getting this from a movie or a storybook?”
“I’m sure,” she answered with the sort of tone in her voice that conveyed the knowledge of an adult, contrasted with the pitch of an eleven-year-old girl. She smiled again and left, closing the door quietly behind her.
After she left, I fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling in sheer confusion. I wondered vaguely if Trina had actually had stage-fright or if she had used it as an excuse to try and talk me into treating my relationship with Frost more seriously. Every word she’d said to me was ridiculous. I didn’t love him. I didn’t know what love was, so how could it exist in me? I’d never been loved, so how was I to know how to love someone else? Besides, why would Frost ever in a million years love me? Frost was the most amazing person I’d ever met, followed closely by his little ballerina sister. How could a guy that incredible lovemein any distorted universe? He was in the highest league available and I had a league all my own, one that couldn’t be described as desirable in any sense. A league didn’t even exist for people like me. Freaks.
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I climbed into the Frosts’ sleek SUV in one of the middle-row bucket seats. Mr. Frost had managed to get out of the hospital for one night and was decked out in a nice suit jacket and tie behind the wheel. Mrs. Frost looked like a winter angel in a sparkly white sweater and silver snowflake-themed jewelry. Trina sat in the bucket-seat beside me. In the back bench-seat, Maddi and Ryan sat together, Maddi in an ice-blue sweater-dress; Ryan in a red button-down shirt and black slacks.
I bit my lip anxiously and fingered the hem of my skirt, which lay across the top edge of my knees. I couldn’t remember the last time I had worn a skirt. I probably hadn’t since I was four. At first, I had been terrified at the prospect of Maddi dressing me. Maddi’s idea of dressing up seemed to usually involve sequins, glitter, obnoxious colors, and lots of make-up. I was surprised by the nice ensemble she was wearing tonight.
It hadn’t been as bad as I had expected. I was dressed in a clingy black skirt that fell to just above my knees, sparkly silver shoes with just barely an inch and a half of heel (which was still enough to terrify me), and a white top. At first when the girls had suggested the top, I had shaken my head and automatically said ‘I don’t wear light colors.’ Unfortunately, they’d forced it upon me. The shirt was pure white and clingy, like the skirt. The neckline was low, the shirt falling off both shoulders and folding over. The hem of the fold was silver. Sleeve-less. Cold. A very simple, classy kind of pretty, though. But I didn’t know if I could pull off the simple, classy, pretty look, especially with how blatantly I thought it showed off my scars and anemic body. When I had protested about the bare arms and shoulders, about how exposed much of my skin was, the girls had offered to cover my scars with make-up or let me change if I was really uncomfortable. Changing clothes sounded like an act of cowardice, but something seemed very wrong with covering my scars as well. They would never be able to make me look healthy or sexy, even if they covered the scars. At last, I had agreed to let them cover the scars on my wrists, marveling at the metaphorical implications of hiding them beneath fragile, temporary make-up. There was something very mask-like about the concept. Both Trina and Maddi had said I looked amazing, but I did not believe them. They would have probably said anything to placate me with how panicked I was about this. And I knew they were dressing me up for Frost, which did nothing for my nerves.
Finally, we got to the ballet studio where the recital was taking place. We piled out of the SUV, Trina immediately darting off with Mrs. Frost to head backstage. As I got out of the car, I slipped on the ice and a hand caught mine to help me regain my balance just before I hit the pavement. Maddi steadied me, a sympathetic look in the set of her mouth, and I groaned quietly in frustration at my clumsiness.
We made it into the studio without further incident and got our programs, then proceeded to the large closet where everyone was hanging their coats. Finally, we headed into the theater-like room where the recital would be. We were barely in the room before I got a chill. No sleeves and a large, cold room didn’t work well together. I raised my eyebrows at all the people milling about throughout the rows of seats set up before the stage. It was quite a crowd.
“There he is!” Mr. Frost said, motioning towards the front of the room. Sure enough, Frost stood in front of the stage, having saved front-row seats. He waved us over and we hurried down the aisle, struggling to get there through the throngs of people. For a minute, we were lost in the masses and had only the slowly descending floor to point us in the right direction. Finally, we broke through and joined Frost. As we approached, Frost smiled broadly at me, eyebrows raised as he indicated my outfit with his eyes. I rolled my own eyes and looked pointedly at Maddi.
As we approached, I grinned widely at Frost. “So that’s where you were.”
Frost chuckled and nodded, showing me the bouquet of white roses he held. A silver tag on the bouquet bore Trina’s name. “Did I do okay? I don’t know much about flowers.”
I smiled up at him. “Yeah. Roses are beautiful.”
He gave me a warm smile that made my legs feel like jelly. “Perfect.” From behind his back, he produced a single long-stemmed red rose with a black ribbon on it and, holding my gaze with those eyes of molten ice, he offered it to me.
It was like we were suddenly the only ones in the room. My eyes widened in shock and awe. I had never even seen a gesture so pure and sweet, save for in a movie or two, much less had it happen to me. Never. The rose was not remotely perfect, but I think that’s what made it so beautiful. In the center the crimson petals were molded together in a tight bud, but as my eyes followed the layers of petals towards the outside edge, they grew more open and the edges folded slightly, turning a darker shade of red. One petal alone was the darkest by far and looked so frail it was about to fall off. It was that petal that I loved the most. “Frost…” I couldn’t even find words to say. I was in shock. Finally I pulled my gaze from the beautiful rose to meet his eyes. “Thank you,” I said so quietly, I wasn’t sure he heard, heat and unshed tears in my eyes.
He didn’t say a word, but I could see something different in his eyes right then, something I had never seen before. He had always seemed worried, sad, sometimes happy, but most often guarded or anguished. Broken. Just like me. Right then was different, though. I didn’t know what I saw in his eyes because I had never seen it before. I took the rose delicately in my fingers, being cautious not to touch one of the thorns. Something about it seemed eerily familiar, but I didn’t know then why.
Just then, quiet music began to play behind the curtain and the lights dimmed. Frost and I broke out of our reverie and hastily took our seats, he beside Maddi, I between him and an empty seat.
As the curtain opened and the spotlight fell on a tiny girl in pink and gold, I checked out the program. Trina was last on the long list, dancing to a song calledWishing You Were Somehow Here Again. It didn’t sound familiar to me.
