London Velvet

[Pride-is-Free]

London Velvet
The streets of London are usually filled to the curb with rain water, and the clouds hang over top of Big Ben, waiting to cry upon the city. Men in business suits walk briskly in the storms, and vendors withstand the downpours, both for the same reason. For someone who doesn’t live in London on a regular basis, the city may come off as a depressing, concrete wasteland: where it constantly rains and the sun only comes out one third of the year. For me however, London is my home, and by home, I don’t mean the flat which me and my parents reside, but rather the city itself; the musty alleyways, drenched roads, and best of all, the damp wood on the pier. On a normal day, you can see families and tourists alike walking up and down the wharf which lines the outer city limits, playing carnival games, riding the Ferris wheel, and eating on benches. It becomes stale after some time, seeing the same type of activity on such a regular basis. After all, the pier is my favorite place to go; regardless of the type of day I am having.
But the pier itself is not what truly captivates my mind, it’s the studio located on the furthest end. “Charlotte’s Wing’s”, or as it’s more commonly called “Wings”, is the most beautiful building I have ever stepped foot in. The stained glass windows reflect a light only emitted by angels, and its bright blue paint soaks into the unforgiving depths of the water beside it. It is a place of true magic; a realm where the troubles battling my mind take armistice and relax while watching the dancers. When you walk inside, a long hallway stretches into what seems like infinite space, with large panes of glass on both sides, separated by rich oak wood. At the end of the hallway there is a set of double doors plated with bronze and inscribed with the words “Dancing will give you wings”.
The auditorium truly has a hold on my heart though. It’s the place where I used to watch magnificent dancers such as Caren glide across the waxy wooden stage, and then take a curtsy before the curtains closed. Oh the curtains. A sign of how well a dancer performed in “Wings” was reflected by the state of the rich red velvet cloth. Those who exceed got an extra pinch of red in the form of roses. And for those who failed to meet expectations, the once friendly velvet turned a deeper shade. Almost seeming darker than it was before the performance began.
On this particular day, I had been walking to Wings from the school. Roughly a two kilometer distance, but with all the pedestrian crosswalks and traffic jams, it could take much longer than expected. I couldn’t wait to get to Wings. School had always been a drag for me. My parents and teachers both claimed I was intelligent. In fact, some believed I was brighter than the students who were graduating valedictorian that year. I just “didn’t apply myself”. That’s what they called it: “application”. If I was so smart, I would be able to fix any of the personal problems I have with the flick of a wrist, like those wizards in films that make us English look like a bunch of sorcerers. Poof! And everything from my dysfunctional family, relationship life, and sometimes disheartened thoughts would be functional: every gear turning in unison without a single squeak. But this was too good to be true. The way I saw it, the only escape from this sorry pit I was in was Wings.
“Oh, hello there Christopher! It’s a pleasure seeing you on such a crummy day.”
Ah, the sweet voice of Mrs. Kourin. She had been the director of the dance studio for as long as I could imagine. Probably since the dawn of its existence. Crazy it may seem, but it surely showed in the wrinkles embedded into her cheeks. “It’s great to see you too Mrs. Kourin. How have the competitions been lately?”
“Quite excellent, thank you for asking Christopher. Who would have thought that a boy, especially one who does not dance, would be as interested in the matter as you?”
“Good question. I guess I’m just not the normal type.”
I knew that I wasn’t the normal type. Most boys my age are out picking up girls at the pubs, or playing football behind the school, not watching girls dance. Come to think of it, I was never one to want to follow what everyone else was doing. I was the type of individual who stayed true to himself, regardless of what others said, and if because of it I ended up in a bad spot, then so be it. I would rather be in a pit of snakes than jeopardize my integrity or who I was as a person. I was proud of my uniqueness, and unafraid to show it, even if others looked at or talked about me like I was strange and didn’t belong.
“Is Caren in today?” I asked with a smile while viewing the trophy case on the wall. The expansive variety of awards was probably enough to melt down and make into a studio of gold itself.
“Hm?” Mrs. Kourin was filing her fingernails and studying a sheet of paper awkwardly lain across the front desk. “I’m sorry dear but she called in claiming to be on personal business”.
“That’s okay Mrs. Kourin; I’ll just have a seat and watch like I usually do if you don’t mind”
“Not at all dear. Would you like something to drink?”
“A coffee will do ma’am”
“Sugar or Cream?”
“No thank you ma’am. Jus black today.”
Mrs. Kourin didn’t respond as she normally did. Perhaps she had caught on to my routine with coffee orders. I tended to only go straight black if I was having a rough day, or if a lot was weighing on my mind. I drank a lot of black coffee.
“Something the matter dear?” I whipped my head around, catching myself midway and slowing down as a means to look casual.
“Not at all Mrs. Kourin. Thank you” She handed me the black porcelain cup. The sides had shimmering gold paint them which read “Wings”, accompanied by an angelic figure.
“If you say so then.” She walked off down the hallway towards the auditorium entrance, fiddling with her keys for a few seconds, and then opening the doors. I was upset that Caren wasn’t available that day. She was always so friendly, and beautiful with her slender body and brown hair. She had a quality about her which reminded me of something mysterious like a ghost. She sort of captivated you in a way that made you freeze, and take in everything. Every word, every facial expression, and every inflection in her voice meant something to me, and I made sure to never forget them. I felt like I had created another brain in order to store all of this information.
After about an hour or so of watching the ballet class in the room in front of me I became bored. It wasn’t that the dancers were uninteresting; I just longed to see Caren. I stood up and looked for Mrs. Kourin to say goodbye, but she was nowhere in sight. Tiredly, I wandered down the hall, slowing down to look at the dancers in the rooms. Behind one pane of glass sat a group of little girls dressed in pink dresses, watching their instructor go through a series of slow motions. On my right hand side, a girl in a blue leotard danced slowly, with her chin raised to the air and body flexed in a perfect curve.
I came to the double doors at the end of the hall. Slowly, I pushed on the bronze bar on the right hand door, and slipped my body into the auditorium like a snake. No one was around. The velvet curtains were pulled tight, to the point where the ruffles they once had were faint and unrecognizable. I leaned my back against the wall behind me and took a look around. This was the most lifeless I had ever seen Wings before. There was a faint light, illuminating only the edges of the stage, but other than that, every seat was empty, and the air sat still, as if it were sleeping. This was not the Wings I had known. Almost every day there was a competition going on, regardless of whether there were dancers from Wings involved or not. I was puzzled. Something had to be wrong. After sitting for what seemed to be twenty or so minutes, I heard a faint cry. My right ear seemed to twitch, and I followed the sound with my head, It was clearly coming from somewhere near the front row. Carefully, I walked down the center aisle toward the source of the noise. I was right; the whimper was coming from the seats by the stage.
“Hello?” I gently asked into the strangeness before me.
“Christopher?” A faint womanly voice replied.
“Mrs. Kourin? Is that you?” I walked closer towards the weeping figure; I could see the glistening of tears on the sleeves of her coat. When I got within three meters she turned her head and cradled it in one hand.
“Oh dear I’m so sorry you have to see me like this. I’m such a…”
“No no no, it’s okay you can stop crying. What’s wrong?”
“The studio...” A terrified look came upon her face; twisting itself at the curves of her cheeks and lips into a sad, and disgruntled expression, beginning the flow of more tears. “The bank is coming to foreclose.” I immediately felt my face contort itself into the same shape, feeling the tears fill up to my eyelids.
Abruptly I walked out of the theatre and stormed through the crowded streets of downtown London, pushing and shoving those who were in my way. Nothing mattered anymore. Where was I to go when my parents yelled and fought? Where was I to run after school to get away from the cruelty of my classmates? I began crossing the street when the thought of Caren hit me like a bat to the chest. I skidded on the wet pavement and quickly changed direction. The rain pelted my face and stung my cheeks but my tears made a protective layer for my eyes.
I finally arrived at Caren’s apartment, both my hands were placed on my knees and I was breathing heavily while standing on the topmost step of the porch. Part of me wanted to barge open the door and go inside to dry off. The other half of me longed for the rain to cool the raging fever of hatred and fear burning in my skull. Why did something as beautiful as Wings have to be destroyed? Was it because of the hate of men? The longing for money? Or was this simply an act of God? I didn’t know, and at this point I didn’t care.
“Christopher get yourself out of the cold you maniac!” I violently turned my head at the sound of the familiar voice. It was Caren. Without speaking she grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into her coat, all while nearly forcing me up the stairs into her apartment building. I had never been this close to Caren before, though something similar to this may have happened in a dream I had before. My body melted into hers, and subsequently into the warm sheets of a freshly made bed. I lay on the bed quivering and shaking from the cold. My vision was a tad blurry, but came into focus once Caren walked into the room and shut the door.
“What the hell were you doing out there? You could have caught pneumonia or something!” I stared into her eyes, they were angry, but there was a thin layer of love behind them.
“I’m sorry. I just needed to tell you. Wings is…”
“I know I know! You don’t have to tell me, I’ve already heard”
She sank back against the headboard and sighed. I stared at the ceiling, hoping to get the chance to continue speaking to her. I had always loved Caren. The two of us had been best friends ever since I could remember. Every year I would conjure up deep feelings for her, but they were quickly smashed by someone getting in the way. This time, it was her boyfriend Tyler. Tyler was the nicest guy in the world. You could almost say that there was no one better than him. He was athletic, muscular, and into the popular crowd, the exact opposite of me. From a firsthand look, Tyler was unmatchable, but Tyler was also like a rotten Easter egg; painted colorfully and decorated on the outside, but deep down is decayed at the very core. All respect for others gone, and all sense of true love and care completely absent. Caren didn’t see this though; she was just too young to understand, even if she was 18. To her, nothing could be better. I had thought to myself that I would be a better match for her. After all, the two of us were almost mirror images of one another. We both loved the same kind of music, the same style of clothing, and had a very creative side. Best of all though, was that Caren and I had been through the same things: depression, anxiety, family troubles, and struggle to find a true self identity. That’s what I thought made me and Caren special. A couple so tightly linked, that God himself would have trouble splitting us, and if He did, He would feel ashamed for what he had done.
“Chris, I have something really important to say to you.” I looked up and over towards Caren. Her face had a worried look on it, like she was ashamed. “I’m…pregnant”.
My heart stopped. I couldn’t breathe. Every bit of love I had left for something in my life had been crushed my Tyler’s steel toed boots. My life had already been going downhill, but this was the pit. Not just a pit, this was the very center of hell, and I was melting before my very eyes.
“I thought I would tell you Chris. I don’t know what to do. I need your help. Tyler won’t answer my calls, and some of the kids at school are even saying that he left town with his cousin last night for Liverpool.”
I began thinking in a panic. I couldn’t take this anymore, my life was collapsing right before me, the very last thing I had left to hold onto had already been pulled under the quicksand by Tyler’s grimy hands. I stared at her and saw tears beginning to roll down her face. “I love you.” I said, and ran out of the room.
There was only one place left to go. Not home, not back to Caren’s, and not underneath the bridge like I normally did…Wings. I rushed through the backstreets, knocking over trashcans and making cats flee beneath my pulsing feet. The blue building came into view in the distance with a violent flash of lightning. Startled, I jumped back. My heart was racing. Why did all of this have to happen to me? Was God playing some sick joke on my already waning life? It had to be. I was the center of this sick prank.
I stood at the front of the Wings building, breathing heavily with every passing second. My mind was whirling still, and I could not come to grips with the reality I had come face to face with. Something caught my eye though. I turned toward the waste disposal container and saw a red box with a yellow tube protruding from it at an angle. A voice arose from the side of the structure. “Christopher dear, it’s time for you to go.”
“Why are you doing this?!”
“You wouldn’t understand, just move along and go!”
“I’m not leaving! This is my only true home! How could you do this to me?! Do you even realize what this will do to me?!”
“You can find somewhere else dear. Now go!” Mrs. Kourin walked inside the front doors. After waiting for a minute, I followed. She was nowhere to be found in the entire building. I made my way to the auditorium, the entire journey smelling intensely of gasoline and propane. Half choking on the stench, I stumbled in the large room, completely pitch black. Not a single light was on. The smell was at its strongest now, and I could feel the dampness beneath my feet. With the sound of stepping in shallow puddles following me, I made my way to the stage and sat down right in front of the velvet curtains. I could nearly taste the gasoline, and now there was a steady stream of it flowing from the top of the cloth onto my head, drenching my hair. I must have sat in that auditorium for hours. I saw the girls to my right, dancing away to the Nutcracker Suite. In front of my I saw an audience applauding and throwing roses. And to my right I saw Caren. With a loud creak in the ceiling I shook my head and realized that nothing was real. Not a single bit, and my life was just as miserable as it was when I started coming to Wings ten years ago.
I pulled a steel Zippo lighter out of my pocket. Engraved on one side was an angel, and the other, a rose. With a brush to the top, and several strikes of the wheel, a dim orange flame appeared. I stared intently for several seconds and with a flick of the wrist, threw the lighter behind my head onto the velvet curtains. I had escaped. I had danced my way into Heaven, and earned my wings.