Page 80 of A Shade of Myself
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New book clubdidn’t drain me like the original one would have, and Marsha even hugged me stiffly at the end, which was odd but not unpleasant.
Before Jude left, I spoke to her about Emmett taking longer to snap out of it when he gave me the prophecy. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell me why that had happened, but she said she’d look into it and report back. For all that she complained about the golem, she looked as worried as I felt about this unwanted development.
Neither my hostess duties nor my fears about the golem explained why I didn’t go visit Laurent that night. It was because Sadie and I had our Buffy rewatch. We were deep in season six with “Normal Again,” the episode where Buffy believes she’s in an insane asylum.
After Sadie moved next door for the week, I watered the plants, wondering if there was a takeaway from the show to be applied to Giselle’s case. Buffy had been hit by the demon’s illusion magic when she’d gone after the Trio because they summoned it.
What if someone had sicced this demon on Giselle in retaliation for something? But what? Her best friend had described her as bighearted, which was my impression of her as well. Or worse, what if Giselle was caught in an illusion that had been placed on Rory? I had to learn more about her sister.
Bright and early Monday morning, I returned to the Bronx to visit the Muellers. They lived in a large older apartment off a busy street. I introduced myself as a PR person from the ballet company who’d come to get some quotes for a spotlight piece we were doing on our website about Giselle.
Mrs. Mueller was delighted and led me through a large living room filled with plants and into a kitchen that was immaculate save for the line of white powder running along the wall. “Damn cockroaches,” she said. “It doesn’t matter how much I clean, poison is the only way to stay on top of them.” She filled the kettle and placed it on the stove, then sat down at a small table with me.
She possessed the same willowy beauty as her daughter, dressed in jeans and a soft scoop-neck shirt in the exact light pink as a ballet leotard. I started the conversation asking about any funny anecdotes from when Giselle was a child.
Her mom laughed, recounting the time when Giselle was three and insisted on wearing a crinoline in a half-tutu shape that was supposed to be tied around her waist. Giselle tied it under her chin and wouldn’t take it off, insisting everyone call her Princess Giselle Hedgehog.
While we drank Darjeeling, she told me a couple other funny stories, none of which mentioned a sibling. There hadn’t been any family photos hanging in the living room to check out. One of my concerns with asking directly about Rory if her mother was stuck in this illusion as well was that I’d trigger that same kind of deafening scream that Giselle was suffering from. I didn’t want to induce any trauma, so I decided to tackle the issue obliquely.
Mrs. Mueller placed a hand against the teapot. “I could make more hot water if you like.”
“I’m good, thanks. You must be so proud of all your daughter’s success.”
“Overjoyed. I always knew she’d make it. Some kids just have the spark and drive and the talent. Giselle was one of them. Becoming corypheé and now Candide? All our dreams are coming true.” Interesting that she was still so fixated on Giselle’s career when her daughter was estranged from her.
It was a timely reminder that this woman hadn’t gotten help for her child’s eating disorder, placing body shape over the well-being of her own daughter. If she’d behaved that way toward the favored child, how had she treated Rory, who hadn’t been as talented?
Could that be at the heart of this? Could Rory have chosen to erase herself from a family that didn’t appreciate her or her talent? Even Giselle had distanced herself from her parents, so what might Rory have been driven to do to escape the scars of her past?
Was it possible that Rory had illusion magic and she’d come after me as a warning to leave this alone? Nav had said kargh thurt were easy to summon and bind.
“Giselle is also the second understudy for Aurora,” I said, continuing the conversation. “She’s being asked to take on more responsibility, which is great.”
Mrs. Mueller flinched like I’d hit her. “Giselle would never be Aurora. She’s so much better.” She said it with such vehemence that I leaned back in my chair, worried she was going to attack me.
“I beg your pardon?” I said carefully. “She is understudying the role in The Sleeping Beauty.”
“Of course she is,” the woman said calmly, taking a sip. “She’s good enough to be the first understudy.”
The back of my neck prickled. We all believed that I’d broken the illusion of Sadie’s death because I refused to accept that reality, but hadn’t something specific twigged me to the fact that it didn’t feel right? I grasped for the memory, hazy as a faded bad dream.
Sadie’s scar. She didn’t have it in the illusion. It was a broken seam in an otherwise flawless presentation.
Was Rory’s real name Aurora? I gripped the table. That had to be it. Rory was a nickname, a shortened version of the name Aurora. No wonder this all became churned up for Giselle a month ago when she got the understudy part in TheSleeping Beauty. She had her sister’s name being shoved in her face constantly.
“Is Rory still dancing?”
Mrs. Mueller blinked at me. “Who?”
I checked the notebook that I’d been jotting things down in. “Her dance studio mentioned a girl called Rory that Giselle was close with?”
Mrs. Mueller frowned, gathering up the mugs and putting them in the sink. “I knew all the dancers in Giselle’s class since I carpooled them all at one point or another to different competitions. They were a close group, but there wasn’t any Rory.”
“I must have heard it wrong.” I closed the notebook and thanked her for her time, promising to send her the link when the article went up.
Finding Aurora Mueller had shot to the top of my to-do list.
