Don't Fault Me--It's Been Both of Us

They looked at each other, she taking off her mask of glittering gold wings, and he looking over from his partner’s butterfly-decorated shoulder, he taking off his cerulean and black silk top hat. She, his new partner, touched his chocolate-brown skin, but he ignored it, studying her. Is it her? That girl in that basement, all alone, surrounded by the stench of abuse and slimy stickiness of indifference?    

The woman in turquoise strived taking him back, waving her glittering turquoise fan in his face, but he pushed it away. Never averting her eyes, she smiled like she had a secret. He grinned. His pouting partner called out to him, but he grabbed the young woman’s hand amongst the many other fashionable carnival ball dancers, whispering she’d be better off with him than “that man over there with the pathetic costume.” They looked over, and he bowed, dancing with a different woman—one he said “was loyal!”                      

The young man laughed, returning to his partner. You can have my partner! He mimicked, and the young woman laughed, too. The pain of her throat ache making it a little raspy. “Ow!” She protested, grasping her throat. “I don’t think I can laugh at a time like this. It hurts too much. Please—can we go sit down? I’m tired of—”

“Dance with me. Just wash it all away. Let all that pain swirl away just like all these carnival ball dancers are reveling in the slow music and the colors are being swished and swayed every which way. Besides, this ballroom. So colorful—like a rainbow—”

“Threw up in here!” She sighed.                                                       

“What a night!” He exclaimed. “Besides, the night’s coming. It may be dawn now, but just you wait—we could probably see the shooting star. Make a wish!” He said all this to her as they stepped together, holding hands.

“Besides, distract yourself. The colors of the rainbow are not just for amazement written on the faces of the people witnessing such a site. It’s also here—in this carnival. What’s a party without excitement?”

“The red slap marks on my cheeks and the burnt marks on my hands don’t vanish beneath my dress’s sleeves or mask. People can see them! And they don’t blend in. they stand out—like my past. Like my life that I had run away from. That I still have burned into my mind.”

“Well, that’s because you don’t have such a good ability to forget everything—”

“How can I forget when I was there? How can I just look at colors when I don’t even see any of the colors except the scarlet red marks on my face and body and black and blue marks on my arms and legs? I don’t see anything but those ugly wounds—”

“Maybe because you’re not looking at the right colors—”

“Well, you ran away as well. Not that you needed to or anything, but you’re not in the right to tell me to just wash it down the drain—”

“Victoria, I’m not!” He clenched his hands, ripping them away from her. “I’m not. Just—I’m in the same boat. I had a hateful past just like you, but I’m not still living it like you. You may be here, but be here. We’re here until tomorrow. I know that sounds like a long time, but we can’t leave. If you want to leave, fine. But I’ll be here, waiting for you.” He sighed. “I’ve been through pain, too, Vic. Though my name’s Victor, I was in the same spot as you. You may know that my parents have hurt me, too. They were my biological parents, not just foster parents. Please understand I don’t want my past, either. But you need to know I too would be upset, but I’m not, at least the way I would be if you weren’t here.” He smiled warmly. “Just because I’m not suffering like you right now, doesn’t mean I didn’t. My parents didn’t even throw me a baby shower, much less love me when they got a divorce. They dragged me to that courtroom. They blatantly let me cry when I heard they’d kill my chances of living with both of them. They squashed my dreams of watching them watch me grow up with both of them instead of one of them each every summer and schoolyear. Please—” He yanked a cobalt and gold sleeve up to reveal some marks. Victoria gasped.

Victor pulled the sleeve back down after showing her the scars and placed both hands on her shoulders, looking her dead in the eye. “Dancing—”

“Doesn’t entail—”

“Forgetting? Yes.” He didn’t smile brightly or bob his head. Instead, he merely gazed at Victoria, she looking up at him. He was tall, and she was shorter, but the couple cut a cute figure. She smiled a little bit, and he smiled vaguely. She lay her head on his shoulder, and he swirled her. He didn’t mind, it seemed, and she gave a small smile. He gave a hanging one.

“How is it?” Her eyes were half-closed.

He didn’t answer but calmly stretched out a hand, and she turned reluctantly. Orange, pink, rose red, blue, green, yellow, purple, white, brown, silver, gold and bronze all soaked the costumes, feathers, wings, long top hats, spiked high-heels, flamingo headpieces, bat wings and angel wings. Mini stages were ringed with illuminated rings of white as their stairs descended to a floor spotted with the disco ball’s flashy pink, yellow, green and blue strobe lights. Every woman wore a cake of black makeup with red or cobalt eyeshadow, and every man donned a top hat of checkers, dice or stripes of gold and white or strawberry and blueberry. An event frustrated the young woman, as the young man saw from her cold eyes. She balled her fists, and bit her lip, scarlet blood soon bubbling to the surface. The young man grabbed her hand, pulling her away from all the fanciness and ball and carnival—

“Come on,” he frowned as she shook her head, her beautiful brunette curls shaking as if to agree, “it’s a ball! Dance with me.” he stood still out of respect, but clenched his teeth together. Then he spoke firmly. “We’re here. I pulled you out of your dungeon of suffering. Please—don’t leave me!” His eyes begged, as if she was already thinking it.

She looked at him, her eyes mysterious. “I took off that mask. Why can’t you just see that I’m not going to just agree? I’m not just hiding anymore. Please? What do I do—I just want to dance with you. Why is that so difficult? We’re two different people with two different backgrounds. Why can’t you see that?”

He took a long wig of pink cotton candy from one of the servers going around with silver platters of wine, cotton candy and lollypops. Popping a little in his mouth, he wiggled his eyebrows. “Yum, yum.” He took a thumb, running it understandingly along her bruises and red cheeks, the black and blue marks on her face. She studied his gorgeous olive eyes.          

She told him, as he lead her over to one of the banquet tables lined with red and white wine, funnel cakes and caramelized apples, that she was hurting because she was so recently hurt—that he had said he was hurting so long ago. That maybe it was okay to still hurt, although she was somewhere beautiful and lovely. That, yes, there was the flower, but there was also the thorn that took some blood. The thorn was still there that caused the pain.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Emotions bring me back.” He admitted. “Unlike you, I live in the present—at least emotionally. Emotions do go in both directions, but we can go in both directions, too.” He turned around. “Not when you just count the marks. Colors—”       

She nodded stiffly, ignoring him. He then ignored her.           

It was much quieter over here, a little ways away from the party and all its glitter and sparkles and sparklers now being lit for the guests. They all stood, Victor and Victoria had noticed briefly. A man in a black and red tuxedo with playing cards fanned decoratively onto the velvet pelt told them to wait until every person had their sparkler lit.        

“What?” Victoria’s voice trailed faintly to his ears. “I thought we weren’t speaking to each other. I guess not anymore.”      

“I want you to—”

“Forget. Well, I can’t stand this glitter, glamour and costume from the Whig Party back in the mid-1800s. I can’t—the colors. They remind me. I don’t see how you could just run away from everything and jump into the night of your life. You’ve had a pretty ugly past. I’ve even witnessed it!”

“Do you just not appreciate my efforts?” Victor unclipped his glittering night sky-blue bowtie. “Just—”

She pursed her lips. “Dance with the colors! I get it. But just because you have a smile on doesn’t mean I need to be you, either. I just...I’m not victorious so quickly.” She beckoned for him to lean an ear down to her, and he did so. Then he leaned back up, smiling tersely. She shook her head, blinking back tears. He shook his head in frustration and intolerance, telling her to let go of the insufferably life she had endured at the hands of her neglectful foster parents. She strived to keep it all straight, looking into his eyes.

My emotions…they dance with me. You’d befriend new things, too, if you had suffered. She held it up high. All I do is hang it up—for others to see my hurt.

Your hurt doesn’t have to be hidden. Emotions don’t have to mask your ability to wash it all away—just do so. You know I have. So—  

Be you?

Victoria’s lips trembled. Victor took her hand gently, and whispered they should go dance. She let him, reluctantly going. As with the other carnival dancers, the young man and woman spun, stepped in line, the young man dipping the young woman and the young woman spun, twirling when the other women twirled away from their partners. He cheered for her. She smiled stiffly, and her eyes flittered with half-gloom, half-distaste. He stopped her, sighing and then just danced with her with everyone else, twirled and dipped.       

“What’s wrong?” He threw out, and her eyes grew hard.

“Easy for you to say!” She dashed away, pushing past some dancers, their gasps going unheard as he chased after her. Stopping her with his hand, he told her to tell him everything. She took deep breaths. He asked why she was so out of breath. She said she was wearing a tight that didn’t fit her quite well. He stayed silent, knowing she was forced to wear these stupid things because that’s all she had. If she were going anywhere, she had to wear a dress to look pretty so her bruises wouldn’t show. The red slap marks on her face wouldn’t distract from her pretty dress.

“Well, I don’t see the point in wearing these dumb things if you’re already beautiful. Cleanse the wounds, and you’ll be all good to go!”

“It’s not that easy. These are permanent.”

“You know what else is permanent?”

She turned around, looking at him.

“My parents’ indifference. So, I don’t see how I’m any different.”

She looked away. “Well, you are.”

He put an arm around her, and looked at her, flashing a big smile. She just looked at him. “Taking me under your wing doesn’t tell you everything is okay now. Since you rescued me, I am eternally grateful. But aren’t you blind to the fact I saw what I saw? Just because you’re not in any pain anymore doesn’t mean I’m not!”

“What’s more than a man rescuing a woman from that so-called care system—”

“And a woman rescuing a man from that ugly divorce?” She looked hard into his eyes. “Sorry to stare into your beautiful eyes. But pain is there. You just need to scrub it away.”

“I have. Why so cold? If it hadn’t been for you, I would be in the same spot—”

“You are. You just are too good at masking it. Stop telling me to hide it when you’re hiding the fact that you hurt, too. You just want me to wash it all away. I can’t if you don’t, either.”

“What?” His face twisted into confusion. “Why do you think I’m referencing the colors and the costumes—”

“What I mean is, don’t just want it to go away. Ease the pain away. But you didn’t do that. Because of that, you want me to know deep down, I didn’t rid myself of my past. But I should. Because you did. Why else are you just referencing all the colors and costumes?”

Victor looked at her. “I want you to be happy. Please?”

“You’re not happy. Maybe if you were, you wouldn’t be so happy. Win-happy. So—”

“Stop being so glum-happy. Distraught. Distasteful. You can’t paint beauty with ugly.”

She searched his face. He looked for any signs of change. She didn’t show anything. He didn’t know whether she even knew his language. She admitted she didn’t, just admitted it. Nothing else. He sighed. She sighed, too.

They danced together. Later that night, she said she wanted to go. He said they had to stay for the sunrise. It was gorgeous, he claimed. She nodded. Hours and hours later, they both stood there, watching for the sunrise through one of the many ceiling-high windows. Soon, the sunrise appeared, peeking its yellowness above the earth. The young couple inhaled simultaneously, Victor commenting about its brilliance.

“The colors are pretty. I like them!” But she didn’t say this to him.   

“Yep.” He nodded, and waved his arm over to the banquet hall. “It looks they’ve prepared us a feast for breakfast.” As all the guests gathered around the four massive elongated tables full of fruit, yogurt, pancakes, waffles and apple pie, the young woman gathered her breakfast and so did the young man. Jostling and pushing were the name of the game until the young friends separated themselves from such a struggle. They emigrated to one of the back tables, gathering a spoonful of something each. Laughing as they both took to a table in the back room, the young woman and young man sat. Victor then said, “You’re pretty, but you’re also pretty frustratingly fake when it comes to laughter.”

Victoria let her breakfast consume her attention as her head was bent and her posture poised towards the table.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He said in mild patience.

“Well, I’m not!” Victoria’s voice was raised. Victor stared at her, stunned. “Please—just wear a frown. Even if it’s a mask. I just…”

“Hate comfort?” He hissed. “Besides I pulled you out of there, don’t you remember? And you me. When I told you. You may not have visited the law court, or met my parents, but you helped me forget. And I want to thank you for doing so by making your nightmares vanish by swirling you around in a new dream—a dream of wonder and color and love—”

Voice dripping with horrible sarcasm, he grabbed his chair, dragging it somewhere else. She sat up, looking sadly at him, wishing she had never been rescued—she’d rather be back there at that nightmare of a foster care system. He looked back at her after calming down, wishing she was with him again.

The guests were all staring at them. Cheeks burning, the young dancers looked around. Then they buried themselves into their breakfast, consuming more and more until they had had enough. Then they said they’d rather go home than return to the dance floor.

He wished she would respect him like that. She said she wished he wouldn’t smack her with his—

“What? Lack of love?”

“No—seemingly beautiful attitude of difference. You’re not so different from me. You just color it all away.”

“What are you doing, living in that care system? I mean, don’t you hate it?”

“No. I…” She shook her head. “I just don’t see the point in escaping. I can’t—the marks are still there. There to remind me how—”

“Pretty you are.” He sighed. “Sorry. Maybe if you would just dance with me, the night sky’s stars whisking us away to memories together. If the stars formed to make a story, we’d be together. No need for a shooting star—we’d be together instead of wishing to be.”

She looked up at him, and grinned a little. He smiled, taking out a hand after her breakfast items had been cleared. “Come on.”

She picked her head up from off his shoulder. “Wow. All that remembering makes me…”

“Be with me in the emotional present. Welcome back!” He nodded, all smiles. “I’m glad you are dancing with me, and I you! Besides, we’re in the present—both of us. No more talk past here.” He opened his arms, and she jumped into them, both all smiles.

Only reality swept them away as they danced to the gentle dance music.  

And even them, in perfect harmony, never missing a beat. They both wanted to escape the ball together. 

It didn’t last forever—but it felt it did.       

She looked around in awe of all the dancers with their livery and then turned back to him. He focused on her, glad to see her beautiful grey eyes looking into his olive ones. She put her hand on his shoulder, and they entwined their hands, focusing just on each other and danced with everyone else. Just together.     

They were together, happy together.