No Longer Their Understudy

Chapter 3

When the black swan no longer danced, I chose to pursue a stage where I could shine.

Emma was a renowned dancer abroad, who had transitioned to choreography as she aged. Her company had won many international awards.

She had invited me several times to go to Austrina and join her company, but I couldn't bear to give up everything back home, so I always declined.

This time, the Black Swan stage finally made up my mind.

Before I left, I went back home once.

The home I had not set foot in for twelve years.

The key still worked, surprisingly.

In the entryway stood a photo of Chloe, smiling brightly. In the living room hung her awards, and on the coffee table was a picture of her and my brother, leaning close together.

There was not a single photo of me on the walls. This home had long since had no place for me.

I pushed open the door and went upstairs.

My room had been turned into a storage closet. The desk was gone, the bed was gone. My certificates of merit had been torn down and thrown on the floor, with shoe prints on them.

My mother's notebooks were scattered everywhere, her manuscripts crumpled into balls, and the scarf she had knitted for me had been cut in half.

I knelt on the floor and picked them up one by one, my hands shaking.

Then I noticed the red dance dress was missing. That was the dress my mother had worn when she was young. She used to wear it and dance with me, like a blooming flower. That image had stayed in my memory.

I found it on the rack in the practice studio.

The cuffs had been cut, the hem was frayed, and it was covered in sweat stains. Chloe was wearing it, doing leg stretches.

I said, "Take it off."

She didn't even turn her head. She replied, "I found it on the floor, and it's quite comfortable for practice."

I insisted, "That's the dance dress my mother left me."

Chloe finally turned her head, looked at me, and then smiled. She said, "Your mom's?" She stood up and tugged at the misshapen hem in front of the mirror. "Well, it's mine now. See how well it fits me? Your mother had good taste."

I repeated, "I said, take it off."

She laughed, "Why? What in this house isn't mine now? Your brother left the house to me. Your mother's clothes are in my house, so they're mine."

I lunged forward and yanked it. She wouldn't let go, and her nails scratched harshly across the back of my hand, drawing blood. With a ripping sound, the dress split in two down the middle.

I held half the fabric, trembling all over.

Chloe glanced at the tear and tossed the remaining fabric to the floor. She said lightly, "Oops, it's torn."

Just then, the door was pushed open.

In an instant, Chloe slumped to the floor, her eyes reddening just right, her voice laced with tears. She whimpered, "Olivia, I really didn't mean to break it, please don't be mad."

Caleb stood at the doorway, his face livid. He snapped, "Olivia Fisher, what are you doing?"

Chloe's tears came on cue. "Caleb, I really didn't know that was your mother's dress. The moment she came in, she started pulling at me, and no matter how I tried to explain, she wouldn't listen..."

I clutched the torn fabric, my blood rushing to my head. I said, "That's not true. She was the one who..."

Caleb cut me off, "Is a tattered dress worth it?" He looked at me as if I were a complete stranger.

A tattered dress.

My voice shook. "Caleb, she didn't leave me a single thing of Mom's. The notebooks were torn, the manuscripts thrown away, the scarf cut. Even this dance dress—is this a tattered dress too!"

He stepped forward, his voice low. "You dare to bring up Mom? Would Mom have died if it weren't for you?"

I turned away, clutching the torn fabric. Only when I walked out the front door did my tears fall; I didn't look back.