Authors: S.K. Munt
Callie felt yet another flicker of guilt. ‘What happens to him when I’m gone? He said something about being locked here?’
‘That’s true. Ardos cannot leave Helicon unless you ask him to come.’
‘So what does he do when I’m gone?’
Hendra shrugs. ‘Like me, he flickers in and out of Oblivion, reads, eavesdrops on all of us to keep track of what’s going on...’ She made a face. ‘But that doesn’t matter right now Callie- you’re really not getting the ‘hurry up’ part. As a human your influence was weaker than usual but at least then you were actively singing and dancing. I fear that the music of the past few years that you’ve spent here has fallen slightly short of your usual standards.’
Callie’s eyes widened. ‘What? How short?’
‘Nothing awful, but Imogen was bragging about Metal and Rhythm And Blues being overtaken by Rap… and something about letting dogs out and a Jay-low?’
Callie scowled at the idea of Rock ‘N Roll fading away and felt, for the first time- a stirring of desire, not for herself, but for the music- the need to be what she was supposed to be for it; the source of inspiration. ‘So she’s really out for me huh?’
‘Just be wary of her. You’ve said that she approached you several times… and even spoke directly to your protégé and friends?’
Callie nodded hard. ‘Yes! She did.’
‘Then do not let her get so close again- a Muse making eye contact with another Muse’s protégé is just asking for trouble!’ Hendra took one of Callie’s hands and led her to the rise. ‘Now come on! I’ve sent word, assembled some reinforcements and now Thespia is waiting for you. Don’t forget, every minute here is days on earth so she’ll be getting impatient!’
Callie was fairly certain she would never forget that again. ‘And I can trust this Thespia person?’ Calliope asked with a quickening heart mentally running over names: Lania, dead. Hendra, fading but seems helpful. Thespia, trust-worthy and into acting if the name is anything to go by… Renee… Art. Urania, Raina- Internet. Clio, nosey bitch. Polyhymnia; sell-out. Imogen; Cunt.
‘Yes. You are the only two of all of us whose existence helps the other without threat of overwhelming each’s cause. Thespia is the Muse of Comedy and Tragedy or as the modern world would label it: Acting.’
Calliope nodded. If there was a beauty greater than song and tragedy, working as one and celebrated by dancers, she couldn’t imagine what. Wasn’t that what she’d always wanted to do with her life? The BIG dream? Broadway? ‘Thank you!’ Quickly, Calliope enfolded Hendra into a hug and almost yelped when she felt the girl’s skin warm from that of the air, to the temperature of her own. Calliope pulled back, and stared at the girl in amazement when she saw her ashen cheeks flushing, and her previously plain dark eyes sparkle in delight.
‘You are more than welcome.’
‘Hugging you isn’t going to you know... start a war or anything down there, is it?’
Hendra rolled her eyes. ‘You need to turn on the news when you get back down there Calliope- there’s always a war raging.’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking dismal. ‘But they don’t need me. They have their hate as inspiration and no worthy cause aside from what damn Clio plagues them with.’
‘And Clio’s cause is…?’
‘History. She was the second of us born, and the closest to our mother in potential.’ When Calliope opened her mouth to ask about Memoria, Hendra groaned and shoved her. ‘Ask Thespia! And send her my love!’
Callie stumbled into blackness.
Araulen Valley, 2004
‘This is bullshit.’ Ryan grumbled, kicking a pebble into the wall of the convention centre before stuffing his hands into his pockets. ‘Can’t we just bail and practice instead?’
Hunter lit a cigarette and exhaled the initial drawn smoke into a cloud in front of him, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet to Lose Yourself, which was shaking the windows of a car in the McDonalds drive-thru across the street. The movement was reflexive to the beat and a means to keep himself warm. ‘I’m telling yah man, Eva’s best friend is hot! She’s got-’
‘Long blonde hair and long blonde legs and long blonde eyes, I get it.’ Ryan waved at him with his own cigarette, leaving a squiggle of smoky annoyance in the air before him. ‘Just like every girl you try to hook me up with. But I like brunettes, you know.’
Hunter wanted to guffaw at the idea of Ryan Weaver having a preference of hair color- as he’d not returned the calls of as many brunettes as he had blondes over the years. ‘I’m not trying to marry you off here, you know- just to get you laid. I can tell it’s been a few months because you’re chain-smoking lately.’
‘Hunter Marks!’ Hunter twisted and his stomach fell to see that Eva and Jo had arrived while they’d been talking, and Eva was now pressing her mittened hands to Jo’s ears and giving him a poisonous look. He felt Ryan’s elbow jam him hard in the ribs and grimaced.
‘Hey!’ Hunter recovered from his mortification and internal bleeding and waved his smoke dismissively. ‘Come on girls- you know I talk crap.’
‘You should be forbidden from talking at all,’ his girlfriend muttered, still looking pissed. Hunter felt bad, for Eva had been begging him to set their best friends up on a blind date for a very long time and now he’d gone and made them both look like neanderthals before the ballet had even started! But then he glanced over at Jo and realized that his tactlessness didn’t matter anyway, for Jo was gaping at Ryan like every other woman on the planet did; her tongue practically rolling out like a red carpet, her eyes soft and unfocused as she drank in her blind date, clearly saying a silent prayer of gratitude for her eyesight.
‘Hi Ryan…’ she ducked her head coyly, sweetly. ‘I’m Jo. I’ve heard a lot about you.’
Ryan looked mortified still, but he shook the girl’s hand, doing that thing he did when he put his other hand on top like a hand sandwich and used the action to pull the girl slightly closer. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and pulled back, still clutching her little hand between his long fingers and smiling intimately at her. ‘Lovely to meet you Jo. And contrary to Hunter’s belief, I do not need to get laid. I smoke because I’d kill Hunter if I didn’t- and it gives his voice a bit of character.’ He released Jo’s hands and jerked his thumb towards the convention centre behind him, which was softly lit from down lights around the edges, making the squat building glow prettily amongst the ferns surrounding it. ‘And this would be the last place I’d expect to pick up anyway. In fact, this is usually the last place I’d ever come.’
Jo’s head tilted to the side. She was wearing a red beanie and a matching red tweed coat over skinny black jeans and knee high boots. Very stylish and cute. Her hair fell like a blonde curtain as she asked: ‘You don’t like the ballet? Eva says you’re at the AVPAC with her?’ She asked, naming the local performing arts college there in Araulen Valley that Ryan had bullied Hunter into applying to back in ‘oh two when they’re ‘on the road’ dream had fizzled and died after three years of literally playing for peanuts in Brisbane.
‘I am. But I skip the dance modules and spend my time in the music rooms.’ Ryan offered his arm. ‘So I might have to insist that you sit next to me despite the horrific first impression I just made, and explain what’s going on when I get lost, okay? I’ll be on my best behavior if you do.’
‘God I hope not!’ Jo was clearly a goner. Hunter didn’t know how she could even see where Ryan’s arm was to link with it given how quickly her eyelashes were fluttering! ‘You look like the type who’s more fun when they misbehave.’
‘That is also true.’ Ryan leaned close to her ear and whispered: ‘But don’t tell anyone, okay?’ Jo giggled and Hunter shook his head in disbelief as Ryan escorted his now melted puddle of a date towards the entrance doors. He glanced at Eva, and was relieved to see her grinning at him.
‘Fuck he’s good,’ she whispered, winding her long, delicate arm around Hunter’s and snuggling into him. ‘But you still need to watch that mouth of yours Hunter! I swear you have the people skills of a four year old sometimes.’
Hunter snorted. ‘Hey listen lady I was babbling in fear.’ He motioned towards the steps that Ryan and Jo were ascending. ‘I’m going to the ballet for you. You need to cut me some slack.’
She pinched his butt through his jeans. ‘I went to The Big Day Out last year for you, and almost got trampled,’ she reminded him. ‘Besides, I told you, this isn’t a classical ballet; they do uptempo songs and have a live orchestra. I’ve seen every production this company has done over the last four years and I’m telling you that they’re fantastic. They might even do some metal like last time!’
Hunter smiled tightly, trying not to look like he was going to throw up on her coat at the idea of wind instruments doing Zeppelin. Against her back, his fingers thrummed picking out the opening chords to Stairway To Heaven, wishing he was back on campus practicing with his band rather than being forced to watch another.
The truth was that he didn’t hate ballet- and neither did Ryan. It just bothered them by association. Hunter had once been very interested in ballet technique for the sake of the girl who’d had the best technique in Horizon; the girl who had run from him, ruining his life, almost getting him a criminal record and raping his peace of mind in the process. The girl who was apparently content never to see him again!
Hunter hated how little he knew about Callie now, and watching the ballet was going to dredge up all sorts of anger and misery. Her parents had reunited with her in the U. S. back in two thousand, but Dr Clay hadn’t spoken to him since the charges had been filed against Ryan and himself after Callie’s vanishing act, and Hunter didn’t blame him. Hunter knew that Callie wasn’t dead because Lauryenne Clay had been kind enough to inform his mother via e-mail when they’d eventually tracked their daughter down, but that had been four years ago and none of them had heard from Callie or her folks since. After Hunter had graduated and taken off with Ryan, his parents had moved to Cairns to escape the lingering gossip, perpetrated by bitches like Meredith- rumors that were never officially denounced because he and Ryan’s ‘victim’ Callie had fallen off the face of the earth. Just thinking about it all made Hunter feel sick. And the fact that he still wanted nothing more than to hear Callie’s voice or see her smile again made him wonder if he was sick. They’d behaved poorly that day, but how could she have cared for them at all to never want to see them again?
‘What’s the story again?’ He asked, trying to look interested, trying not to think about Callie.
‘The Princess And The Pea.’ Eva said, smiling up at him. ‘One of my favorites. And as my boyfriend, it’s now officially one of yours.’
‘Not yet,’ Hunter joked. ‘But it will be!’
Laughing, they walked inside together but as he crossed the threshold Hunter paused and turned, certain that he could feel eyes on the back of his neck. But there was no one there. He shrugged and stepped inside, but the shiver of being watched didn’t leave him.
*
Hunter was hooked on the entire concept and willing to worship at the feet of the director during the opening of the first act of The Princess And The Pea. He’d been to the theatre a few times in his life, but never had he seen anything like this! The red curtains had parted on a cheerful forest where the trees were actually people in shimmering green costumes adorned with branches. On the left proscenium arch sat a solitary girl, a harpist in a long white gown and her fingers were deftly plucking rapidly at the strings in a cheerful and repetitive tune Hunter knew well but couldn’t quite place. On the opposite arch was a band -a real one- and as a stunning blonde ballerina tip-toed out onto the stage, flanked by what looked like maids-in-waiting, the band launched into action, accompanying the harpist in the open beats of Spiderbait’s Calypso.
‘Sunshine…’ The ballerina sang sweetly, fluffing her gown, while her maids primped her hair. Then one snagged her dress as the song began to rock out and the girl’s disposition changed in the blink of the eye as she stomped after the girl, throwing a hissy fit.
By the end of the song, the ballerina was going off at the harpist and then turned on her heel and stomped off the stage, her ladies-in-waiting whirling after her. Some of the white light faded and the harpist jumped up from her stool, hoisting her dress in an un-ladylike fashion and stabbing a tiara hurriedly into her hair and immediately Hunter understood: They were sisters going somewhere important, but the latter didn’t care and was second tier to the first anyway.
Then the light became greenish-black, the forest creepy and foggy. The trees began to shift, one by one, hitting contorted poses that made Hunter wince. There was an orchestra in the pit at the front plucking out some screechy notes, but then the energy of the band shifted and to Hunter’s delight, a lone guitarist with an 8-string was playing the opening bars of Enter Sandman with spot-on accuracy. As he strummed out the first few repeated chords, each tree twisted to sneak up on a prince who had sauntered on from the wings. Each time, the prince would turn behind him and the tree just froze in yet another painful and gravity-defying angle. Hunter caught his breath, expecting one to stumble each time, but none did. The first four hits to the cymbal made Hunter’s palms smack against his knee in time, and his eyes kept sweeping between the band and the spectacle on stage, desperate to snatch an instrument and join in.
And then the second guitarist kicked in just as the drummer launched into the soft tempo and another dancer, a girl in a medieval looking ball gown, did a flying leap onto the stage and landed in the prince’s arms. The prince caught the woman easily, dipped and twisted her parallel to the floor, as though studying her from every angle, and then hauled her up again and sent her skittering back into the trees, still in time to the pace of the music. Enter Sandman had always excited Hunter, making him want to jump and celebrate life by punching or knocking over something and then falling himself and he felt doubly intoxicated now to see the graceful but fast and almost sexy movements of the dancers keep up with his rock anthem of choice.
Eva’s hand found hers and squeezed: ‘God I want to be up there!’ She whispered and Hunter nodded, not even able to look away long enough to grin at her in agreement. A few beats later, the exchange between the princess and another female dancer was repeated with a petite Asian girl in another elaborate dress. The fact that the prince was assessing each girl for a wife was clear.
‘Holy shit!’ Hunter hissed when he saw the girl spun like a basketball, and his hand was squeezed again, a silent: I told you so. And then the drummer went nuts on his kit and the room exploded into early applause as the prince, now alone on the centre of the stage, began to do a whip and whirling, leap and falling, twist and curling solo dance to the cacophony of sound. And then the most incredible thing happened- and the last thing Hunter had expected- the prince strode across the stage and began actually singing along to the song- pointing to the crowd as though addressing them directly. Hunter hadn’t seen the small microphone attached to the dancer’s jacket collar and now that he did he was convinced that it was a pantomime situation. No way could someone so graceful sing like that after such an exhaustive dance! His voice was raw and gruff and perfect for the scathing song.
‘Oh you’re kidding me?’ He was almost panting. ‘For real?’
‘The whole thing is live, Hunter. Incredible, isn’t it?’ Eva asked.
Hunter nodded dumbly and glanced at Ryan, whose dark eyes were practically falling out of his head. He was oblivious to the girl staring at his profile adoringly beside him, but he must have felt Hunter’s smile because he looked over and grinned back.
Hunter turned back to the stage, feeling a tightness in his chest and tears forming in his eyes; not only because he was so jealous of the dancer’s stage presence that he couldn’t see straight, but because it felt like everything good in the world had collided in an explosion in front of him and it was too much for his heart to take. He honestly felt that if he released the arms of the chair, he’d get to his feet, storm the stage and take the moment for his own- and if they’d had better seats, he might have! But they were halfway down the theatre and even though the ushers were almost all little old ladies, there were umbrellas in the stand behind them and Hunter didn’t want to go down that way considering he couldn’t actually dance.
The song faded out halfway through and the applause in reaction to the close of the scene was deafening. The princess from the first scene then rushed across the front of the stage, swirling and leaping, followed by her maids and then, the sound of lightning could be heard. Hunter saw the harpist stumble alone across the stage after her sister, stumble and then fall. Then, the scene blacked out. Hunter leaned over to Eva and whispered: ‘When will this come back?’
‘This show won’t. They’ve got one more here tomorrow night and then they go to Rockhampton and Brisbane before returning to Sydney. Then the cast will start reassembling for another production and hopefully, come back next Winter.’