I Forgot to Tell You (9 page)

“Now, let's see if I can find this place,” Charlize said, handing Taylor a sheet of paper with the address on it. “Can you get the GPS to work, Taylor?”

“Sure.”

It had started to rain, hard, and the wind was whipping around. It was not typical May weather. “You'd think we were in Vancouver, it's raining so much,” Taylor said, peering out the window. She wouldn't have admitted it to Keiko, who would have laughed at her, but the weather scared her. It reminded her of old horror films she had watched in grade seven. Horror films had been popular when she was twelve; the best way to show you were the coolest was to let nothing scare you. Taylor had always been fine while she was watching the movie, but afterwards she'd get nightmares.

“April showers bring May flowers,” Charlize said brightly. “I think Mother Nature must have reversed it! April was sunny, now May is stormy.”

“Oh geez, Mom,” Taylor said, disgusted as Charlize started laughing hysterically at her own joke. A branch fell down with a crash beside the road, and Charlize screamed, nearly veering onto the side of the road.
“Mom!”

To Taylor's surprise, instead of continuing on, her mother pulled to the side of the road. “Mom, it was only a branch.”

Charlize turned off the car and rested her forehead on the steering wheel for a moment.

“Mom?”

Charlize took a deep breath. “I'm all right. It just scared me, that's all.”

“Oh.”

Charlize pulled back onto the road, and they started on their way again, following the directions of the GPS lady. “How come Daddy is here?” Taylor asked, for the sake of something to say.

“You should ask him that,” Charlize said briefly. “There, is that it, girls?”

“I think so,” Keiko answered. “Yes.”

They got out of the car. Taylor pulled her hood up over her hair — the rain and wind were so strong that they were going to ruin her hair in the thirty-second walk to the restaurant. They walked in, and Charlize shoved Taylor in front of her. “Can you see your father?” she asked.

Taylor looked around. “There he is. We're just going to join my dad, he's over there,” she told the hostess who was hurrying up to them. They walked down to him, and Taylor saw that he was not alone. “Oh, hi …”

“Oh hi to you, too, princess.” Steven laughed. “Hi, Charlize. Alison, you're getting bigger every time I see you. And who's this?”

“Keiko. You met her before, remember?”

“Oh, of course I did! Sorry, I forgot.”

They all sat down, Taylor finding herself across from her father and beside her mother. Alison had slipped beside her dad. “So, um —” Taylor asked pointedly. There was a woman next to her father, and Taylor knew who she was, but she wanted an introduction.

“Oh! This is Vivienne, everyone. Vivienne, my ex-wife, Charlize, and our two beautiful daughters, and of course, Keiko.”

“Isn't this cozy,” Charlize muttered, so quietly that only Taylor could hear. Taylor giggled. She stared at Vivienne, slightly confused. She wasn't sure why, but she had assumed that Vivienne would look like her mother, but she didn't, not at all. Vivienne was Korean, and short, and wearing dark clothing. Taylor thought that her mother looked a million times prettier.

“So what have you been up to, sweetheart?” Steven asked, staring at Taylor.

“Um, I've been dancing a lot. I might be playing Swanhilda in the June production of
Coppelia
. Swanhilda's, like, the lead. And I got an agent, I'm doing some acting stuff. I auditioned for
Superbly Unnatural
last week, but for a dancing role, not an acting role.”

“Good, good … sounds like you're doing well. How's your boy, the one I met the last time I saw you?”

“Julian? Daddy, he's not my boy. And I think he might be gay.”

“Oh. Good, good … you can do better, anyway. Wasn't he a hippie?” He looked down at his menu. “Everyone decided what they want to order yet?”

“Aren't you forgetting something?” Charlize asked pointedly.

“What?” Steven asked impatiently. “Look, if you want more time to order, Charlize, just let me know, don't play games.”

Charlize's eyes flashed, and Taylor tensed. It was never a good sign when Charlize got mad. “You have two daughters,
Steven
.”

Steven looked to his left. “Ah. How are you, Alison?”

“Good.”

“See? She's good. Now, can we please order? I'm starving.”

Taylor was unusually quiet as they drove home. It was late, but the wind was calmer. Alison and Keiko had both fallen asleep, and Taylor had tried, but she couldn't. “Mom?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Does Daddy not like Alison?”

“Of course he loves Ali!” Charlize said quickly, looking back to make sure that Alison was asleep.

“Does he like me better, though?”

Charlize was quiet, thinking. “You are just easier for him, Taylor,” she said. “He finds it easier to relate to you.”

“Well, it's not fair! Alison didn't do anything.”

“Taylor, I don't feel like talking about this right now. Go to sleep.”

“Mom?”

“What, Taylor?”

“Daddy asked me if I wanted to go and live with him and Vivienne next fall.” Taylor could hear her mother stop breathing. “I told him no. I didn't want to stop going to the academy. He wanted me to focus on acting and stuff in L.A.”

Charlize started breathing again. “You said no because you wanted to keep going to the academy.”

“Yeah.”

“Go to sleep, Taylor.” Taylor bent her head down and closed her eyes, wondering if she had made the right decision. The real reason she had said no to Steven had been that she could not picture living with him. He had never really been home when she was younger, and she couldn't remember ever having a full conversation with him. And Vivienne — she didn't like Vivienne. Vivienne didn't give off any vibes of what she was like, and Taylor liked people that let you know who they were right away.
Like Julian.
Taylor buried her face in her sweatshirt, turning her face to the window so Charlize couldn't see her face. She'd managed to forget that she liked Julian, but her dad bringing him up had made her remember that she liked him all over again. That was why she had told Zack that she wasn't sure that she wanted to go out with him. Maybe she would tell Julian that Zack had asked her out, and see how he reacted.

Alexandra Dunstan

My feet have reached a new level of grossness. I have a blister on top of a blister on top of a blister.

Alexandra crawled out from under the large prop wagon that was full of fake flowers, triumphantly dangling her canvas shoe in front of her. “Hah!” she said aloud. She kept losing her canvas shoes, and she knew someone was taking and hiding them. She had her suspicions that it was Jessica; it seemed exactly the sort of weird and neurotic thing she would do. She put the shoe on and stood up, wiggling her foot around until it was in perfectly.

“How'd you lose your shoe under there?” Julian asked, laughing.

Alexandra looked out, shading her eyes against the stage lights as she tried to see into the audience. “Julian?” She walked to the edge of the stage, where she could see him. “Hey. It depends on what you mean by losing.”

“Er, how else would you explain a situation where you are climbing hilariously out from under a wagon looking extremely pleased with yourself?”

Alexandra jumped off of the stage and walked over to him. “Three words. Some. Bitch. Stole.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.” Alexandra sat down next to him. “What is new in the wonderful world of Julian?”

“Nothing much. Who's stealing your shoes?”

“I'm guessing Jessica, but I'm basing that on absolutely nothing but the fact that I hate her.”

“Hate is a strong word. It is virtually impossible to hate something without also loving it.”

“Not true. Okay, I strongly dislike her. Don't distract me, I had something to ask you —” Alexandra thought for a moment. “Oh. I remember — what is it that you thought I was going to ask you about? That time that you were at my house?”

Julian frowned. “Nothing.”

Alexandra stopped, staring at him. “Now I know it isn't nothing. Come on, tell me.”

“No.”

“How come?”

“Because. We aren't exactly friends, and I don't trust you to not tell everyone you find.”

“I can keep a secret!”

“What about when Anna was quitting?”

“Okay, that was different, that was Anna.”

“What about when you told me that Tristan liked me?”

“I thought you already knew that.”

“My point is, no. I don't need to tell you, and I'm not going to.”

“Uh, okay.” Alexandra looked away, confused, annoyed, and hurt in almost equal measures. She didn't know why it was that she cared what Julian thought about her, but apparently she did. And the more she thought about it, the more pissed off she got. “I'm going to go check if we are likely to start this rehearsal any time in the next century.”

She walked up the stage steps and through the wings to the backstage area. Mr. Yu was still looking at some sheets of paper and arguing with Mr. Demidovski. They were clearly going to be a while. Alexandra kept going, not sure in which direction she was walking, until she hit the change rooms. She turned around and walked back to the stage, not wanting to deal with the noise of the change rooms, and looped back to the audience, taking the door entry into the audience this time instead of cutting across the stage. Julian was still sitting in the front, but she ignored him, lying on the rich red carpet of the audience floor. It was probably filthy, but it was comforting. She looked upwards, at the ceiling so high above her.
I wonder how much of my life I will spend in theatres when I am dancing with a company. I hope I get a job with a company that travels a lot, and is in Europe. That would be so sweet. Or somewhere like San Francisco, or maybe New York.

“You asleep down there?”

Julian was looking down at her, leaning over the back of one of the seats. “I'm not talking to you, Jules.” She closed her eyes again, firmly.

She could hear Julian laugh above her. “Why, because I called you out for being a blabbermouth?”

“Yes.”

“I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I mean, there's nothing wrong with being a blabbermouth.”

“Tell me something. If you won't tell me what I want to know, tell me a different secret. Then I'll keep that one, and you will see that I can.”

Alexandra kept her eyes shut as she waited for him to pick.

“So many secrets, I don't know which one,” Julian joked.

“An interesting one.”

“Hm. Well, how about I just tell you a story, and you have to not tell anyone, okay?”

“All right.”

“Okay. So my parents, they were at this music festival, right? And they'd broken up, but they were still friends. This would've been about August, there's sun shining down everywhere. At least, that's what my dad's friend told me. He was there, too.”

“Sun. Got it.”

“Yes. Anyway, they were all listening to the music, having a great time, and then suddenly my mom, she leans over to my dad and she's like, ‘Will, I'm pregnant. We're going to have a kid.'”

“Did he freak out?”

“No. He stared at her, and he's a bit confused, because of the sun, and what she said, and stuff, so he's looking at her to see if she's joking. But she's not. So he says the first thing that pops into his head, which is, ‘what are we going to name it?'”

“That is
not
what I would have asked.”

“Shush. So, my mom, she doesn't know. She hadn't even thought about it. So, my dad goes ‘Well, if it's a boy, let's name him Julian.' My mom, she says, ‘What? Like John Lennon's kid?' And Will, he says, ‘Yes.' And my mom, she's like, ‘Well, what if it's a girl?' and Will, he's like, ‘We could name her Julian, too.'”

Alexandra giggled. “Good thing you are a boy, huh?”

“Yup.” Julian smiled down at her.

“How will you know if I told anyone or not?”

“I have my ways.” There was a commotion behind them. They both turned around, staring at the stage as everyone flooded it. “Better get up there.”

“Si.”
Alexandra stood up, and they walked over to the stage. Mr. Demidovski and Mr. Moretti were already up there, and the dancers arranged themselves behind them, sitting on the stage. Mr. Yu stood off to one side, watching the goings-on with an expression of wariness.

“As you all know,” Mr. Demidovski begun, resting his hand over his heart, “we have had much, much trouble deciding who is to play the role of Swanhilda.”

The dancers nodded their agreement. Seated beside Julian, Alexandra felt her stomach lurch. She sat up straighter.
Please, please, please …

“We have decided —”

“Hello everyone!” Theresa beamed at them, walking into the audience with a swirl of scarves. “Oops! Am I interrupting something?”

Mr. Moretti nodded, annoyed.

“Sorry.” Theresa sat down in the audience, quite ruining the setup, as now Mr. Demidovski was delivering a speech to his students in the front and Theresa was watching in the back. Mr. Demidovski had not been trained in the art of performing in a circus ring, and he lost his flow for a second.

“There has been much difficulty,” Mr. Demidovski said. Alexandra groaned inwardly. He'd been about to get to it, but now there was no stopping the long speech. “Aiko has left. To Europe. We, of course, are very happy for her.” Mr. Demidovski's dour expression contradicted the positive sentiments that he was expressing. “Anna — we very much loved Anna, but she has left.” Mr. Demidovski bowed his head, as if in prayer or remembrance.

“By the way, how's that going with your brother and her?” Julian whispered.

“Shush,” Alexandra hissed, paying attention to Mr. Demidovski.

“Grace …” Mr. Demidovski looked thoughtful. “Yes. And then of course, Alexandra and Taylor.”

Come on, please just say it … but not if I didn't get it.

“So, first cast we have Alexandra. Second cast, Grace. Understudy, Taylor.” Alexandra let her breath out.
Thank you, thank you …
wait, Taylor? They're actually giving it to Taylor?

Suddenly somebody stood up and ran backstage. Alexandra stared after her. “Was that Kaitlyn?”

“Yeah.” Julian stood up. “Want me to go check on her?” he asked Mr. Demidovski.

“Sit down,” Mr. Moretti said impatiently.

Julian sat. “Damn it,” he whispered to Alexandra. “I need to move, sitting here is driving me crazy.”

“You'll survive,” Alexandra said dryly.

“And of course, Liam has left,” Mr. Demidovski continued.

“Leon,” Mr. Moretti corrected.

“Ley-an. Yes. He has gone, and will not dance the part of Frantz.”

Julian sat up straighter. “Want to talk about my brother's love life now?” Alexandra whispered. Julian pinched her, keeping his eyes focused on Mr. Demidovski. “Ow!”

Mr. Demidovski looked out at them. “First cast should be Dimitri. Second, should be Tristan. Understudy, should be Jonathon. Sorry to Kageki, you are too short.” Mr. Demidovski did look genuinely sorry when he said that — Kageki was far too short to partner any of the girls that Mr. Demidovski had listed.

Mr. Moretti looked mad. He bent down and whispered into Mr. Demidovski's ear, but Alexandra was too far away to hear what they were saying. Beside her, Julian was slumped, looking at the floor. “Julian,” Alexandra whispered.

“What?” Julian sounded as if he was trying very hard to sound normal, but his voice came out squeaky.

“Look up.” Julian raised his head from his knees. Mr. Moretti was still arguing with Mr. Demidovski. “What — or who — do you think that they are most likely to be arguing about?”

Julian's face lit up, and then fell again. “Mr. Moretti doesn't even like me,” he protested.

“I think he might,” Alexandra argued.

“Okay, okay, Mr. Demidovski has to go. Please have a good dress rehearsal. Mr. Yu!” Mr. Demidovski waved his hand and Mr. Yu suddenly came alive again. “Come on, come on, everybody to places for first act, we rehearse first cast,” he shouted, driving Mr. Moretti off the stage by sheer volume and energy. “Come on, come on!”

Julian sprang to his feet and reached out his hand to pull Alexandra up.

“Julian!” Taylor said, running over. “Did you see, did you see? I got understudy! Omigod, I am so happy!”

“Yeah. Congratulations.” Julian's voice was strangely flat, but Taylor didn't seem to notice, hugging him anyway. Alexandra watched the two of them, frowning slightly. Their friendship got on her nerves. She couldn't say why, but she didn't like it; it annoyed her.

Grace came up, smiling, and gave Alexandra a hug. “Swanhilda buddies!”

“Yeah!”

Alexandra smiled. It was kind of nice to have Anna out of the picture, and now that they had both been cast as Swanhilda, maybe they could go back to being friends again. “Do you want to run through it once with me while Mr. Yu is rehearsing Villagers?”

“I would totally love to help you learn the steps,” Grace assured her, “but I have to go find my mom, she said she was going to be bringing my lunch.”

Alexandra stared after her, and made a face.

Tristan came up behind her. “Did you just stick your tongue out at Grace?”

“Yes, Tris, I asked her if she wanted to rehearse with me, and she twisted it around so it was like I was asking her to teach it to me.”

“Oh. Kk, you have to come and help, though, Mr. Yu wants us to move the curtains over here before the camera crew comes.”

“What camera crew?”

“Mr. Demidovski invited media people to watch us.”

“But we're not remotely ready!”

“I don't think that occurred to Mr. Demidovski. Don't worry, everything will be fine. If anything goes wrong, just smile, they won't notice anything.”

“Ready, light on. Left,” Mr. Yu said into his headpiece, his accent sounding stronger through the crackles on the mike. Alexandra had the greatest sympathy for the backstage crew; she was not entirely sure how they managed to interpret his commands. Her theory was that they probably just guessed.

Mr. Yu turned to Alexandra. “Ready?” he asked.

Alexandra nodded, smiling.

“Good.” Mr. Yu hugged her with one arm. “Be good.” Alexandra nodded again, and went to the wing that she was supposed to come out of. There was a reason that Mr. Yu was one of her favourite teachers. He might act like a six-year-old, but he also felt like one of them. He was basically the antithesis of Mr. Moretti's cold removal. Alexandra waited in the wings, testing out her feet. The tendons felt warm, loose, and flexible. She breathed in, expanding her chest against the tight bodice of her costume, and letting the air out again. She really loved this kind of costume. It reminded her of the Cinderella costume she'd worn for Halloween when she was four, and five, and six — when she was seven her mother had told her that she had lost it, but now that she was sixteen, Alexandra had her suspicions. Her foot felt
really
loose. She wiggled it around a bit, and was rewarded with a sharp stabbing pain.
Agh.
She just had to suck it up for this run-through, and then she would go home and ice it.

Alexandra limped on her way out of the studio. She could feel her foot getting cold and tightening — it was going to hurt in the morning. Her cellphone went off, and she picked it up — it was Leah. “Hey …”

“Hey! Lexi, so glad I got ahold of you, I've been trying for the last two hours.”

“Sorry, I've been in rehearsal. We're down at the Centre doing dress rehearsal for
Coppelia
.”

“Okay, okay … wait, so you're downtown?”

“Yeah.”

“Go to the front of the theatre, I'll pick you up.”

“Wait, what?”

“See you in five.”

Alexandra hung up on Leah, her favourite contemporary teacher. She had no idea what Leah could want, but whatever it was it was probably very interesting. She limped out to the front of the theatre and sat down on one of the large sand-coloured blocks of cement, watching for Leah's car.
There it is.
Leah's car was unmistakable, a low-slung, bright-red affair with stickers all over the back. Leah was fond of saying that understatement was for those who were afraid, and that philosophy apparently applied to her car, as well. Alexandra walked, or limped, out to the car and got in the front seat.