Haley Thistle
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The Theatre Statues (rough draft)
🕑 Added 2021-09-28 20:01:01 +0000 UTCThe theatre was being renovated and the owner was going to use my father's artwork. The owner’s wife wanted my father to create statues that would greet guests as they came inside. Her one stipulation was that he use pieces of an old carving that used to hang in the theatre to make them.
My father made three statues for the garden before the entrance. One to stand in the small garden before the stairs, and two more who would flank the stairs. They represented the greatest attributes of the theatre; dancing, music, and acting. My father was skilled and talented, but back when he was first approached, he was up and coming in his craft. His friendship with the owner got him the job, and that made him nervous.
My father told me stories of the theatre when he first arrived. Performers still came to the theatre despite the renovations. My father would study the performers to catch the essence of the theatre. Rumor had it that the stage was good luck to performers, so my father filled pages upon pages with sketches. All used to inspire his statues.
It was there that my father found his muse, a beautiful and fiery dancer who refused to let anything get in her way. Marlena was known for being a temperamental woman, but that didn’t put any fear into my father. He fell in love with her, and would create many works inspired by her passion and fury. One such work was me.
I was born as construction on the statues began. My father began work on the dancing one first, since my mother couldn’t dance after my birth. My first memory is of his hands, though gentle they were rough and covered in dust. He would hold me and show me how the marble would become something more.
As I grew, my mother insisted I dance as well. She gave me my first lesson as soon as I could walk and continued to teach me until I was old enough to join a class. Many times I heard that I was too much like my mother. I had too much fire in me, they said. I treated dancing like a fight for my life, they said.
“Never let them dampen what power you have, Adriana,” my mother said to me. “It is not their fault they are mere candles against your roaring fire. Stay strong, because you will need it in the future.”
“Be careful what you say to her,” my father chuckled. “I don’t want her getting into the fights that you used to.”
My mother crossed her arms and glared up at him. “You do not want our daughter standing up for herself?”
“I don’t want people to have to stand up against her.” He stepped away from his statue. He had started working on music while he waited for the pieces of the old carving to arrive and finish dancing. “I don’t want to raise a bully.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you calling me a bully?”
I would say my mother was a bully to anyone outside her family, but my father had her wrapped around his finger. He liked her power and it swayed him as one would with romantic poetry.
“What would you like me to call you?” My father’s dusty fingers left my mother’s black hair gray when he touched it. I thought was so beautiful when I was young.
By the time the statues were complete, I was working in the theatre as a dancer. My mother had become the choreographer for the theatre and looked after the dancers. The night the statues were being unveiled the owners threw a lavish celebration. They invited patrons of the theatre, as well as celebrities from all over. My mother gave me a dress from her youth.
“When I had my first starring role, I wore this for interviews.” The dress was a lavender shade with cream lace. As she laced me up in it, I could see her look of pride in the mirror. “I also wore it for my wedding dress.”
I smoothed my hand down the side. “Why would you wear this for your wedding?”
She smiled into the mirror as she placed her hands upon my bare shoulders. “Because it made me feel powerful. Now, I grant that power to you.”
My father was already at the theatre while we dressed. While it excited him to reveal his work, he had been nervous during the weeks leading up to this reveal. The theatre was full once my mother and I arrived. There were so many people roaming about in the gardens as well as inside. There were waiters walking around with drinks and food, which I indulged in.
“Adriana! Be careful,” my mother warned me. She took the treat from my hand and placed it back upon the tray. “I don’t want you eating so much of the food tonight.”
“But the portions are tiny,” I tried to argue.
“But they are very rich.” She moved me away, turning me from the waiters with food and back outside with the covered statues. “Isn’t this exciting? Your father has been working all this time. Since before you were born. It’s almost like these statues are family.” She then patted my back. “Go out and mingle, stop hiding in corners.”
I nodded, saying nothing but I rolled my eyes as I descended the stairs. I went down into the crowd, watching people. I then came across the owner’s wife who was looking up at the statues with a look of concern. She had once been a very popular dancer but suffered an injury that ended her career early. My mother spoke of her as her rival.
“Is something wrong?” I asked her.
She gave a heavy sigh. “These statues, I wonder if they were a good idea.”
I furrowed my brow. “Weren’t they your idea?”
Her smile was a sad one. “I know they were, and yet-” Her eyes became distant and hazy. There was a sense to her expression that gave her a melancholic yet romantic air. “There was someone here at the theatre I knew a long time ago. They vanished when the old carving of the masks broke. I wonder if they’ll ever return.”
“Were they a friend?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” she murmured. “But they loved so much.” She then snapped from her haze and smiled at me. "Carmine has come home you know? I'm sure he'll want to see you."
The news did make me smile. I had grown up with Carmine. I practiced danced while he snuck about the theatre. "It'll be be good to see him. It's been so long."
"He's here somewhere." She reached out, smoothing down a bit of lace ay my collar. “You look like your mother in that dress,” she sighed. She touched my hair and tilted her head to the side. “I hear you have your first solo coming up, Adriana.”
I nodded. “Do you think I got it because my mother is the choreographer?”
She smiled. “Not at all. I know your mother would make you earn it like everyone else.” She then furrowed her brow. “Why? Are people saying such things?”
I looked towards the dancing statue placed at the front of the stairs. “Of course people talk. They think I am the favorite because of my mother. But I know I am the favorite because I am the best out of them all."
“You sound like your mother too,” she murmured. “I know then you do not care about making friends with any of the other dancers. But I do recommend that you-”
“Dull myself for them?” I scoffed.
“No,” she shook her head. “Share your fire with them.” She was then called away and I was alone. But before I could enjoy it, someone else came and stood near me. I looked up at them and saw a figure clad in strange clothing and wearing a mask with many faces. They looked at me and the mask split. I gasped in alarm but then someone touched my arm and I whipped towards them.
"Easy there!" He laughed.
"Carmine!" I blurted. My heart was racing. The figure I saw had given me a horrible fright.
"Did I scare you?" Carmine's attempt at holding back his laughter was failing.
"I thought I saw something." I shoved him. I then stared at him, taking him in for the first time. "You don't look like the Carmine I know."
Carmine laughed, running his hand through his lush, dark curls. "Have I changed so much?"
I stared agape at him. He had changed so much from the last time I saw him. Back then he was short and pudgy and always hidden behind his mother’s skirts. He had gone away for school. Then he took to traveling and buying shows for his father to produce at the theatre. I never thought he would return when I heard stories that he had become somewhat wild on his own.
“Yes! You look like you're possessing another person!” I fussed.
He chuckled and moved around me. There was something odd about him, something not of this world. He had dark olive skin, dark hair, but pale gray eyes that appeared silvery green in the light. I kept looking him up and down. There was something odd about his visage. He used to resemble his father so much when he was young, but now he looked nothing like either parent.
“I see you haven’t changed at all. Still a little viper like your mother.” Carmine walked with me as we left that dark corner.
I felt more relaxed with Carmine. Even though he looked nothing like his former self, something about him felt the same. “I heard you’d become something of an animal yourself out there.”
“Nothing compared to you, little viper,” he smirked at me. “But you know how growing up goes. I found my wings so I spread them.”
“For anybody is what I heard.”
Carmine broke into a big, vicious looking grin. “Glad to see the rumor mill is going as strong as ever.”
We stood beneath one of the veiled statues and Carmine rubbed at the covering. “Why are you back? Will you be home long?” I asked.
Carmine’s eyes appeared distant. “Mama asked me home. She’s not saying anything, but she’s worried about her health. Her leg is bothering her more and more. Plus dad needs help with this place.” He looked at me with a smile. “I’m home for good, little viper. Perhaps we’ll get to know each other better now.”
Something felt seductive about his smile, and I hated how eager I was to indulge in it. Unfortunately there came a tap upon my shoulder.
“It’s just me,” my father said. He offered his hand then looked at Carmine suspiciously. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”
“It’s good to see you, sir. I am excited to view your works.” Carmine smiled, knowing it wasn't easy to recognize him now.
I took my father’s hand. “It’s Carmine, Father. He came back home and we were catching up.”
My father gasped. “My goodness, son! You look like someone else.”
“I should be hearing that often.” Carmine shrugged. “I’ll go find my mother if you need her.”
“We’re getting ready to unveil the statues. So if you’ll excuse us.” My father led me towards the stairs. “I want you and your mother with me.” He took hold of my hand and I followed him. I stood at his side while the statues became revealed.
All three looked so proud and bold. Their faces were golden, made from the remnants of the carving that the owner’s wife gave to us. Music and acting stood on either side of the stairs. Music held a violin, poised with a foot out and their body flowed along with their song. Acting stood with arms outreached as if aiming for the stars. Their body was rigid and tense, racked with the feelings of their performance. Dancing was before the stairs, poised in a small rose garden that greeted guests as they arrived. It was my father’s greatest work, based on my mother and the way she threw her body into her dance. The back arched, the legs were alive, the arms caught upon the breeze. The gold faces on each had once been stone. My father dipped them into gold to hide their cracks and breaks, as well as piecing them together.
I had not seen the statues with their faces on. Now that I had, it was as if they had become real in that instant, as if I could feel them breathing. I was awestruck and deep inside me I wished I could grant each of them a kiss.
As the night wore on, my mother went home, but I lingered with my father. We soon were the only ones left at the theatre. He stayed, watching his art the same way he would watch me.
“Let’s go home,” I coaxed him.
“I hate to leave them alone,” he murmured.
I helped him to his feet. “They’re not alone, they have each other. Come now, mother will worry about us.” He went to fetch something and I stood at the foot of dancing, waiting for him. I looked up at their face and smiled.
“You’re the eldest,” I told them. “Take care of your brothers.”
Once my father returned, we left and went home. I laid in bed, remembering those gold faces. As a child I had imagined what these statues would be in my mind. I gave them each a voice in my head, an identity I clung to like some children made imaginary friends. With their faces now in place, they felt so real. To me they were alive.
Rehearsals for the next production began the next day. My mother didn’t give an inch. She worked all of us hard, especially me since I had an important solo. During breaks, I liked to go out and visit the statues. I would try to give each one some time, but I was partial to dancing, who I named Athos. I named acting Bruto, and music was Tullio.
One afternoon during rehearsal I began to feel ill. I had a fever and I went to the back where I could rest. It was dark back there, and cold as well. I laid there and tried to rest, but my body felt raw and unable to settle. My eyes closed and I felt a hand upon me. It felt cold to the touch, which to my feverish body felt so nice.
“Who's there?” I opened my eyes, seeing only a shape in the darkness.
“No one to worry about,” a calm voice murmured. Their hand smoothed over my face, which felt like a furnace. “You’re so warm.”
“You’re so cold.” I reached up, touching their arm which felt as hard as stone. “Who are you?”
Their finger slipped over my lips. “I won’t bother you long. I only wanted to see you.”
Perhaps it was the fever making me see things. “Are you one of the dancers? Did my mother send you?”
“Shh.” Their finger pressed to my lips. “Get some rest. I’ll tell you later.” They placed a kiss upon my forehead, one that felt as hard as their arm.
I tried to reach for them as they left, but they moved too fast, and soon I fell asleep. I woke up in my bed at home in the dead of night. I looked around, getting out of bed and going to the window. I must have slept all day and my father must have come to take me home.
I looked outside, seeing that the moon was almost full. As I looked around the midnight world, I saw three figures standing outside the gates. I furrowed my brow, looking closer. The three stood in a group. Looking very similar in shape and form. One leapt up upon the wall and began dancing there. Another climbed the fence, landing on the other side. I grew frightened that they were robbers. I started to run to fetch my father but I heard music.
The sound of a violin began to fill the air, and the figure on the wall began to dance with it. I opened my window, letting the music inside. The dancer then turned and saw me. They posed upon the wall and extended their hand to me as if asking me to dance.
“Come with me.”
The voice had me leap from my body and throw my soul into space. Beside me there was a figure upon the lattice which held the vines. They held their hand out to me. “I’ll take you down so we can play.”
I squinted through the shadows and upon their face I saw gold. I held my breath in my chest, and as the moon came from behind the clouds, I saw their face was gold. I smoothed my hands along the contours of their face. They formed upturned brows and a downturned mouth.
“Bruto?” I breathed.
Bruto took my hand and helped me from my window then carried me to the ground where the other two met up with us. One golden face held a smile with raised brows, that was Tullio. They other held a serious expression, the brows pinched and the mouth set in a firm line. They were Athos.
“I must be dreaming,” I said under my breath. I reached out to touch Tullio, who bowed and extended their violin behind them. I then reached for Athos, placing my hand upon their chest which they then took and held.
“Come and dance.” Athos pulled me into the yard, sweeping me along the grass before holding me. Tullio began to play their violin while Bruto began reciting poetry. As Athos led me in a dance, I began to move on my own. I matched their body, their movements, I flowed along beside them and kept pace. I beamed proudly, not questioning how they were here. I had said they were alive, so to me, this was a chance to celebrate rather than question.
I danced over to Bruto and Tullio, spinning around them and laughing. Bruto picked me up in their arms, tossing me into the air and catching me. Tullio played their violin, jumping and dancing along with me. But Athos pulled me back, wrapping me up in a dance that fueled my passion and inspiration. It felt wild and unburdened, I could thrash and lunge as I wanted. I could be a wild animal while Athos was before me.
Athos then lulled me into a slow intimate dance. Our bodies touched, and our arms wrapped around one another. Bruto took me from them, holding me in an embrace. Tullio took me from behind, sweeping out my arm and kissing my palm.
“I’m so glad you are here,” I said to them. “All I have ever wanted was for the three of you to be in this world.”
Bruto kissed my hand. “And we have wanted to spend time with you. To us, you are the muse.”
“Be careful what you say, brother.” Athos’ hand wrapped around my waist from behind. “You are so quick with your passions.”
Bruto laughed. “And you are not? Dancing with her like that. You might as well have been making love.”
Tullio struck their violin with a harsh note then snapped their fingers.
“But I am careful,” Athos scolded. “We broke once, I will not let us break again.”
Tullio played their violin in a panic and I went to them. I cupped their face in my hands and they laid it upon my shoulder.
“But we are hers,” Bruto said. “And she is ours! We grew together. We molded together. How can you not believe that we were made to be together? Us and Adriana.”
“We thought that once,” Athos scolded. “We thought our love would return to us, but she gave our gifts back, and in the process we shattered. Though we adore her, we must guard ourselves so we are not hurt again.”
“What happened?” I asked as I comforted Tullio. “When did you break and who did it to you?”
The two brothers went silent and stood still. “It happened long ago,” Bruto responded. “And it shouldn’t matter now. We are new. We are now children of that incident. Born from it to grow and change. We are not fate to the same turbulence as our-”
“Stop monologuing!” Athos snapped at them.
Tullio held me tighter and raised their head from me, pressing their cheek to my forehead.
“Dasamiza is dead, we are not them, and they are not us,” Bruto snipped
Tullio turned me away from their bickering. They showed me their smile then picked up their violin again. They began playing me a gentle tune and we swayed back and forth together. The two behind us began to quiet and they came up behind me.
“We’re sorry. We meant for this to be a wonderful evening.” Bruto took one hand and kissed it while Athos took the other and kissed it.
I smiled, leaning forward to give Tullio a kiss. I then turned to Bruto and Athos, giving them each a kiss as well. “I am happy to finally have you. I have waited all my life for the three of you. I will let nothing come between us.”
I woke up in bed, my body sore and my face warm. Sunlight poured in from my window, which was still wide open. Had I been dreaming? When I pulled back the covers, I saw my feet were filthy and the ends of my nightgown stained green from the grass. It hadn’t been a dream, they had actually come to me that night.
I stayed at home that afternoon as my mother was still worried about my fever. I went and stayed with my father in his workshop, watching him as he prepared for his next piece.
“It feels so strange here now,” he told me. He rubbed the back of his head. “This room feels so empty, like something is missing.”
I looked up from his sketchbook. “Because they are gone?”
My father sighed. “Yes. It feels like such a shame to break up the set.”
I turned to him confused. “But they are all together at the theatre. What are you talking about?”
His smile turned gentle. “I always considered you one of them.” He came and sat down beside me. “The four of you were born together, grew together. I always thought of you as my masterpiece alongside them.”
“I felt that way too,” I murmured.
That evening, the three of them came and I let them into my room. I kissed them each, feeling my heart grow so full with them all there.
“You did not come to the theatre today, we got worried.” Athos cupped my cheek in their hand.
“My mother was worried about my fever, but I should be alright.” I held their hand to me, smiling as they ran their fingers through my hair. “Can you only move during the night?” I ask.
“It's complicated,” Bruto replied. “We are not exactly statues, but we are not exactly alive either.”
Tullio plucked the strings of their violin.
“Exactly, brother,” Bruto began to pose. “We do not exist in this world alone. We exist between and, like ink spilled upon pages, we bleed through them so that we come into one and the other.”
“Monologuing,” Athos scolded. They put their arm around my waist. “I’m sure she understands from a glance we are not all that we appear to be. But there is so much more to us. More than she could ever dream.”
“I always knew, even before I saw your faces. I knew the three of you were something special.” I kissed Athos again, causing Tullio to play their violin softly.
Bruto turned my head, taking the next kiss. Tullio stole the next and I was smiling and giggling as Athos struggled to take another.
“Are you three so starved for affection? The whole world loves you now.”
“But it is not the world we strive for,” Bruto murmured.
Tullio’s fingers curled through my hair and then their fingertips danced upon the nape of my neck.
“If we had to choose a world, we would choose you,” Athos murmured against my ear.
I caught my breath and rose to my feet. I began to dance, and as I did, Tullio played their violin. Athos and Bruto watched me as I danced for them. The moonlight shone through my nightgown, and I knew they could see my body.
