was a black and white of me that Violet had taken at the studio for her project, titled: The Contrary Ballerina. I had on what Brando called my ‘frilly wear’—all pink—and my hair came down in loose waves around my head. Wild even.
She had me sit forward, one of Mick’s cigarettes in my mouth, the pink lipstick she had given me vivid even in mercurial tint. My feet were en pointe, but covered in Converse.
A Polaroid sat in the middle. The picture Violet took at the cabins of Brando and me.
The third picture came from Harper’s Bazaar. Maja Resnik and I had teamed up to do the photo shoot.
“Why did you pick those three?” I waved my free hand toward the dash. The paleness of my skin could rival any ghost. “The pictures.”
He stared at me for a moment. “The two girls I know,” he said, his voice soft. “The girl who’s so stubborn she won’t get out of her own way. And the classical ballerina who glides and moves like she’s floating.”
I tapped the third picture with my fingernail, the one he dubbed classical ballerina. The sound of it was loud in the silence—tap, tap.
“The magazine had wanted both of us for the photos. My mother was thrilled from her fingers to her toes. Think of it!” I said with false bravado. “Two generations! Such a reflection! The old ballerina and the young!” I brought my voice down to a normal level. “Not this one, but another. We were both in silhouette, nose to nose, hands to hands, like a thin layer of glass, or even an era, had separated us.”
I shook the picture. “We also recreated the famous paintings that were done of Maja by the famed Italian artist Matteo Ballerini. He was obsessed with her, you know. Her eyes. Her breasts. Her legs. After he died, his art exceeded even his expectations, I believe.”
He kept his face forward when he spoke. “Maja tell you all of that?”
“I read his memoirs.” I smiled, remembering how much I had enjoyed it. It felt torrid. The perfect Maja exposed as human. “Their letters were included. He was in love with her. Truly, madly, deeply in love with her. And I quote: Their love was full of naked days and nights of endless pleasure. Oh—” I sucked in a breath, released it in a loud whoosh “—he was obsessed with her belly button too! He said it reminded him of a perfectly shaped grape.”
Grape had come out with a pop on the ending p. We both laughed, him more than me this time. After the humor faded, silence filled the empty space once again.
I ran a fingertip over the middle picture, the one of us. “Tell me about this one.”
“Mine. All mine.”
Again his deep thoughtfulness, his silence, took up all the air inside of the car. At this point, there was nothing more to do or say to sway the outcome of the inner war that raged. Whatever he had planned seemed to be causing havoc on his mind and heart—whatever it was seemed to come at a price for him.
Looking up, I studied the stars. For reasons beyond me, intuition perhaps—a need to see him every so often—I looked to Brando, expecting his stare to still be forward, but instead, he stared at me.
“What?” I asked, giving him a small, simple smile. “Do I have residual stars in my eyes?”
He opened the glove compartment, took out a clean handkerchief, and informed me that I’d be blindfolded. I gave in, not wanting his silence any longer, not wanting to change the direction of the wind. He secured it around my eyes and tied it in the back, rendering me sightless. A moment later, the Chevy moved forward.
Decision made.
“Are we there yet?” Didn’t seem to be working for me. Surprises were all good and well, but not the elongated ones. And Brando seemed immune to my charms. Perhaps he was teaching me the art of delayed satisfaction, or perhaps we really had some miles to burn, but either way, I felt childish and wondrous and not just a little impatient.
We'd been driving for some time, and I honestly had no clue where we were headed. There were times when it felt as though we were going in short circles. Other times the destination felt straight and far. So when we finally stopped the first word out of my mouth was, “Hallelujah.”
I attempted to remove the blindfold but he stopped me with his