Haley Thistle
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The Theatre Statues: Part Two (rough draft)
🕑 Added 2021-09-30 20:01:01 +0000 UTCOnce I returned to the theatre, rehearsals got tougher. My mother wasn’t giving us any slack as the days drew closer. Since I had the solo, I was being wrung out twice as hard. Lately, I have been noticing Carmine sitting in the seats. Sometimes he’ll be out front, hidden in the shadows. Other times I’ll catch him from the corner of my eye in one of the boxes. My mother hasn’t said anything about him, but all the other dancers were talking about him. Some spoke of how he’s so handsome. Others whispered they felt Carmine went odd during his journeys.
Carmine only spoke to me. Between my rehearsals and his dealings with the theatre, and that was a rare occasion. We often met around the statues, he could hide behind them with ease, and I loved being near them anyways.
“Do you enjoy the statues?” The question came out of a pleasant silence we shared.
“Of course,” I answered. “Why? Do they bother you?”
Carmine’s eyes trailed down Tullio’s form. “When I was little, I used to have dreams about a figure wearing a mask with many faces.”
I had seen a figure fitting that description before the statues became unveiled. My pulse began beating faster, so I reached out and touched Tullio’s leg. “Then these must be frightening to you.”
Carmine gave me an astute look. “I never said I was afraid. I quite liked them. The figure would appear to me in the dark theatre, sometimes they would walk across the ceiling or down the walls. Sometimes they’d be in the high windows. But they were always there for me. They would do tricks for me and tell me stories. It was a strange dream, but it was never frightening.”
“Who were they?” I asked.
He looked me over, and his pupils dilated. “Dasamiza."
My breath caught in my chest. The statues had spoken that name before.
Carmine sighed. “They showed me so much of the world, but it all came within my dreams.” He tilted his head up to look at Tullio again. “These three, none of them look exactly like them, but they all remind me of them. There is something missing though.”
“Missing?” I wanted to hear more, but then my mother called for me from inside. I stood up and smoothed down my skirt. “Back to work.”
“You dance like a beast,” he said as I turned away. “I can’t wait to see you when there’s an audience.”
My cheeks felt hot as I looked at him and I scurried back inside.
Once when I was little, my mother was busy and I was left on my own within the theatre. I don’t think she meant for me to wander off, but I did. This was around the time my father was engrossed with the statues and he rarely left the house so mother was the one to deal with the business end of things.
I had gone quite a distance from the office, finding myself in a back room close to where they stored costumes. It was quiet back there, unearthly so. I was standing there at a fork in the road with two directions I could go. I considered turning around, but then I felt some strange pull at me. I looked down the left hall, where one of the lights didn’t work and so it flickered, making the hall change from something ordinary, to something frightening.
I was pulled down this hallway, following an instinct in me. It brought me to a door which I opened, and inside the room was mostly empty, save for a large covered slab on the floor. I stepped closer, kneeling down to see if I could look under the tarp without touching it. When I couldn’t see, I pulled back the tarp where there were large chips of paint and plaster, along with bits of stone. Under the tarp was a large carving of the traditional theatre masks of tragedy and comedy. It was broken and in horrible disrepair. The golden paint and plaster that had covered the rough stone was falling away and the masks looked undistinguishable. The carving, too, was so large that I crawled up on top of it to get a closer look. As I looked down upon the masks, I felt sad. I knew tragedy was meant to be forlorn, but the comedy mask seemed to be just as sad.
It didn’t occur to me until I was a bit older that it was that carving that the owner’s wife wanted used for the statues. My father used pieces from the carving to complete the two broken faces, using his skill to make one that represented the serious expression that Athos now held upon his face. My father put a piece of comedy and tragedy within each mask, as he felt the world of theatre could not be condensed so easily.
Everything has a touch of humor and sadness to them, he told me. Life is about moments of bitterness and sweetness. Without one or the other, we wouldn’t appreciate the moments as they come. Comedy makes tragedy sadder. And tragedy makes comedy funnier. I didn’t get it back then, but as I got older, it came to me more and more.
That evening I left the theatre while my mother talked to the owner and Carmine. As I exited the front doors I saw the owner’s wife staring up at Athos with that look she held from the party. There were tears in her eyes as she gazed into their golden face and they rolled down her cheeks as she bowed her head.
“Is everything alright?” I asked her.
“Adriana, glad to see you’re feeling better.” She wiped her eyes. “I was admiring them."
I placed my hand upon Athos’ foot as I approached her. “But why are you crying?”
She took a deep breath and sniffled. “I was remembering that person I told you about the night of the unveiling.”
I looked up at Athos and their stern expression. “Can I ask you something?"
She nodded. "Go ahead."
I took a step closer to her. "Why did you want that carving used for my father's statues?"
She chuckled and rubbed her hands. “It is a long story,” she murmured. “But it was guilt.” She looked into my eyes, her own brimmed with tears. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. But I know it was too late.”
I furrowed my brow. “Sorry?”
She smiled and reached out, tucking a loose lock of hair behind my ear. “I turned down a remarkable and wonderful gift. One that could have given me the career your mother holds now.” She pulled her hand away and held it to her chest. “But now, I look back and wonder-”
“Adriana!” One of the other dancers called to me from the door.
“You best go,” she shooed me with a smile on her face. “None of my old stories matter anymore.”
I looked at her before I left. I did not feel sorry for her. We make our choices and we have to stand by them. If she feels guilt now, that is her own fault. The past is the past and we move away from it. And right now, whatever step I take, I want it to move me closer to Tullio, Bruto, and Athos. She happened to be the first cobblestone under my feet.
That evening, I waited outside for the statues to arrive. They always came at the same time, so I didn’t have to wait long. They approached me from the shadows. Their golden faces shining and capturing the light. Something felt strange that evening. There seemed to be a nervousness in their approach.
"Is something wrong?" I asked them. "You feel different tonight." I reached out and took Athos' hand.
“Something feels off. I will confess to that," Athos replied.
Bruto posed, throwing their forearm over their head. “There’s a charge in the air, a spirit of warning,” Bruto began. Tullio cut them off by striking their violin to show their urgency.
I looked between them. “Is it bad?”
“Not exactly,” Athos replied. “I’m not sure how to describe it.”
Bruto rubbed their hands together, waiting before they spoke again. “It is the same feelings as when you are waiting for someone to come to the door. Yet you know there is a chance that, when you answer, it is not who you want. So you stave off the excitement, but it only grows."
“The air has been heavy with it the past few days, but we have not known what to make of it. Today, the feeling grew stronger than it ever has.”
Tullio plucked their violin and looked at me. They seemed to know, but they didn’t know how to get it across. They made a motion with their hand, sweeping across the back of their head as if stroking hair that wasn’t there. It reminded me of Carmine. That thought struck me and I let out a gasp.
There was a stiffness that Anthos took upon hearing that sound. "What is it?
Tullio began playing their violin, bringing from the strings a soft, melancholic tune.
I then remembered the name that both of them had spoken. “Who is Dasamiza?”
Tullio played a sour note and brought down their bow. They held the violin close to their chest and looked towards their brothers.
“Someone who is long gone.” Bruto was shockingly brief.
“But Carmine knew who they were, and you said their name too.”
Tullio touched their face, caressing their hands down the gold. They dropped their hands to their side. They then started to play the violin, once again playing that sad song.
“Dasamiza shattered. They became lost and heat broken,” Bruto's voice was softer than usual. “From the sorrow of Dasamiza, we were born. Made from them, part of them, almost like Eve came from the rib of Adam. But our bodies were-”
Athos huffed. “Dasamiza was the spirit of the theatre, but when the comedy and tragedy masks broke, they splintered.”
“When you say it, it sounds so boring,” Bruto scoffed.
“The spirit of Dasamiza became split once your masks were made,” I murmured as I pieced it together. “Is that what that is? I thought I had something to do with it!”
Bruto chuckled. “In a way, you did, over the years your love gave the statues a certain power. But it is our masks and the spirit of the theatre that make us what we are.”
I felt a bit miffed it wasn’t me who brought them to life, but I supposed this made much more sense. “So now that you exist, Dasamiza doesn’t?”
“Not exactly. Actually, I’m not sure how it works at all.” Athos stood. “But today, that presence we felt, it felt like another one of us had been there.” They held out their hands, having me stand with them.
I held onto them, ready to dance. “But that’s impossible, isn’t it? My dad only made three masks. There can’t be four.”
“I wouldn’t make much of it,” Bruto replied. “But since we all still feel it, it’s not something we can ignore any longer. If there is a missing piece of us out there, we need them.”
I decided to ask Carmine about Dasamiza; if the spirit had visited him in his dreams, perhaps he knew more about them. The next day, before rehearsals started, I found him as he was sneaking into the seats. I grabbed him from behind and he jumped.
“You scared me!”
“I need to talk to you.”
His silvery eyes brightened and he followed me into the hallway. As we got into a quiet spot, a smile appeared on his lips. “Do we have time before your mother starts yelling? The office should be empty.”
“What?” I cocked up an eyebrow. “I wanted to ask you about that Dasamiza character. What can you tell me about them?”
He frowned. “Why do you want to know?”
I didn’t know what to say. I should have prepared, but I had hoped to slip away with it. “I have my reasons. But you tell me first.”
Carmine’s eyes darted around and he lowered down to my ear. “Dasamiza is my real father.”
My whole body prickled with his words. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.” Carmine put his arm above my head on the wall. “They told me so themself. They and my mother made love before they broke. She shattered them, but they planted the seed. Now tell me, why do you want to know about them?”
I swallowed hard. “The statues-” I hesitated so I could think about how I was going to put this together. “You’ve seen the statues, right?”
Carmine furrowed his brow. “Those made from the comedy and tragedy carving. Why? What about them?”
“The statues-” I murmured.
“Out with it, Adriana,” Carmine brushed his fingers against my cheek then tucked away my hair. He then stopped as if it clicked in his own mind. He turned and looked down the hallway with a serious look upon his face.
“I guess, in a way, they’re like your brothers.”
Carmine stepped away, a distant look coming to his eyes. His brow furrowed and his long fingers slipped around his jaw. “Well, I should meet them, shouldn’t I?”
“Maybe,” I said the word slowly as I tried to calculate in my mind.
He started to laugh. His hand slipped away from his face and he took that step back towards me. “Maybe? Adriana, don’t tell me you want to keep them all to yourself.”
I hated feeling caught like that and I looked away from him.
Carmine’s hand caught my chin and he pulled me back. He turned my face to look up at his and I felt that same swirling desire I did for Tullio, Athos, and Bruto. “Look at me,” Carmine said in a deep voice. “You brought them up, if you didn’t want to share them, you’re doing horrible at keeping the secret.”
My lashes fluttered. “Let go of me.”
Carmine’s long fingers slipped around my jaw and grazed down the side of my neck. “I don’t think I will.”
“Carmine-” I looked back into his eyes, and for the briefest flash, I thought I saw a mask around his face. “If it is you, then I suppose it would be safe to show you the statues.”
Carmine leaned in, placing a soft kiss upon my cheek. “Why not make it easy on them? We’ll stay here at the theatre tonight.”
I had only ever been kissed by my statues, and yet the kiss from Carmine felt no different. “They usually come and find me.” I tilted my chin up and looked down at his lips.
Carmine smirked and he came so close I could feel his lips brush against mine as he talked. “They won’t have to search hard.” He pressed the kiss to my lips and I was drawn in. I put my arms around him then quickly pushed away as I heard voices. He laughed, sweeping his hand across his face.
“Tonight,” I huffed. “I’ll convince my mother I need to stay and practice on my own.”
“I’ll just stay,” Carmine grinned.
Once the theatre was empty, Carmine and I came out of our respective corners to meet in the lobby. The whole place was quiet and all the gaslights were off. I had seen the theatre this dark maybe once in my whole life.
“Are you shaking because you are scared or because you are cold?” Carmine strutted towards me, looking like he belonged in darkness and shadow.
I didn’t enjoy appearing vulnerable. I placed a frown upon my face and clicked my tongue, sighing dismissively just like my mother. “Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not. I’m admiring.” He lit a lantern and set it aside. As he smiled at me, his dark clothes appeared to be fading into the shadows and receding from the light. It almost appeared as if he had long fingers clawing from his back and twisting into long tendrils.
I stiffened my neck and lifted a shoulder. “Even when you were little, you admired me.”
“I wanted your confidence back then. Even with that nose, you thought of yourself as the most beautiful girl in the world.”
I cupped my hand around my nose. “What about my nose?”
Carmine stepped closer. “I like your nose.”
I moved my hand away as music began to swell outside. We both turned as the doors opened. Tullio was playing on his perch while Athos came through the door. Carmine smirked and stood before me.
“I expected an entrance much more dramatic than this.” Carmine placed his hands upon his waist. “I suppose the the essence of Dasamiza must have dulled if it was split four ways.”
“Four ways?” Bruto tried to claw out from behind Athos, but they were held back.
“We don’t have time for you to talk,” Athos scolded them.
Carmine chuckled and walked forward. He and Athos stood at the same height, both were similar in build as well. But one was flesh, and one was marble.
“Boys-” I started but Tullio’s music struck such an urgency, I decided to stand back.
“What should we do?” Carmine asked. “Do we get to know one another, do we decide who deserves to live?”
Athos remained stoic and quiet.
“How do you come to claim your inheritance?” Bruto once again tried to push their way past Athos. “Son of Dasamiza, you claim? What proof have you?”
“Bruto,” Athos scolded. “He is the same as us. Look at him.”
Carmine smiled, holding out his arms so they could see. “I don’t have a mask like the rest of the family. I inherited my mother’s good looks.”
Bruto took a step behind Athos, going as still as he could. “Impossible.”
“Unlike the three of you, I was an accident.” Carmine lowered his arms and let out a heavy sigh. “I had felt for so long I was alone. When Dasamiza stopped coming to me, I was frightened. But now I understand why-”
I approached Carmine, placing my hand upon his back while meeting Athos’ gaze. “I get it,” I whispered.
Carmine looked down at me with a curious look.
“Comedy and Tragedy were the two faces that always portray the theatre.” I started speaking with a low murmur, but it grew louder as I went. “But it’s more than that. Theatre has so much more. Dasamiza used to be the spirit of this place, right?”
Bruto nodded from behind Athos. Tullio stepped down from their spot, lowering their violin as they came closer.
“You represent the best of the theatre, the dancing, the acting, the music.” I looked at Carmine who had tears in his eyes. “The humanity.” Dasamiza was alone and shattered from their loneliness, but since there are four of you, you’ll never be technically alone.”
“This one can die though.” Bruto flourished a pointing finger at Carmine.
“But he can pass on that part of Dasamiza,” Athos spoke with a soft tone that was strange for them. “With a lover.”
My cheeks grew warm at the very thought. “Yes, with a lover.”
Things went quiet until Tullio began playing their violin again. The tune was happy and bright, and they came close to Carmine as they played. Carmine smiled at them, clutching his hand over his heart.
“Tullio is right,” Carmine said. “We should celebrate. We’re a family now.” he held his hand out to me. “And we have our Adriana to thank for that.”
I smiled and reached out, but Athos grabbed my hand instead.
“I’m the dancer. I’ll take this.” Athos swept me up into a dance, spinning me and flying with me through the lobby.
Bruto approached Carmine and pulled him aside. “I have the most wonderful idea for a play. It begins with a man who cannot speak-” They continued on, as did our celebration. Come dawn, Carmine and I watched as the three took their places. The sunlight illuminated their masks and they shone more brilliantly than ever before.
“I’ll take you home.” Carmine took my hand. “I’ll tell your mother I found you asleep backstage.”
I pulled Carmine down, and when I kissed him, I felt as if I was kissing all of them. “Who is this lover you mentioned before?” I stroked my fingers down his cheek, touching Tullio’s smile.
Carmine chuckled, and his brow pursed like Bruto’s. “Coy doesn’t suit you.”
I touched him, smoothing my hands down his chest. “Then take me backstage so you can find me there. If you do, it won’t be a lie.”
“That is more like you.” Carmine’s eyes became as severe as Athos’. He took me back inside and we walked onto the stage. As we laid there, kissing and touching, it felt like there were more than Carmine’s hands upon me. The shadows crept out, brushing against my skin as Carmine removed my clothes. Athos caressed my legs, Tullio cradled my head, and Bruto kissed each fingertip. Carmine’s hot breath scalded the curve of my neck as he started to moan.
“When I touch you, it’s as if I feel everything tenfold. I’m overwhelmed.” Carmine’s face was illuminated as he looked at me.
I pulled him back down to me and I pulled him into me. I could feel it all too, every breath taken, every desire met. Not from Carmine alone, but from all of them. Eight hands, eight lips, forty fingers, they were all mine and mine alone.
“I am terrified,” Carmine finally spoke as we laid upon the stage.
I played with his fingers, spreading them out then curling them. I kissed his knuckles and chuckled to myself. “Of what?”
“Your mother.” Carmine breathed out loudly. “I do not know how to broach this subject. She hates my mother.”
“I wouldn’t say hate.” I rolled onto my side. “But I think she’ll look at this as a victory for herself.”
Carmine frowned. “How so?”
“Her daughter will one day become the owner of this place.” I kissed him then pulled away, sitting up and looking out across the rows and rows of seats the theatre held. “And I will carry on the spirit that will continue to grow in this place.”
Carmine kissed my shoulder. “Then maybe I’ll survive. But I am still terrified of her, regardless if it makes her happy.”
As we left the theatre, I looked back at the statues and smiled. They were still mine, and they would remain mine always.
Carmine then tugged my hand. “Tell me something, Adriana. How can someone like you be happy with someone like us?”
I gazed up into his shining eyes, beyond his thick brows and long lashes. In his eyes, I saw myself reflected there. All his focus, all his desires, they were all because of me. But it wasn’t just his eyes I saw, I saw through gold and into a future beyond us.
“How could I not be?”
