Anna stayed in town, checking into the main hotel. She called Kitty and told her what Scott had done and although it took some time, she managed to convince her furious friend that she was fine. She just needed to be alone.
Anna had her evening gown delivered to her room and spent the next day in the hotel’s spa. Being around people forced her to not think about the previous night’s events; the women in the spa keeping her distracted with their sycophantic fawning over her. She couldn’t disappoint the charity organizers by cancelling her appearance, despite her heart feeling like it was going to split in two. The show must go on, she thought to herself with a mirthless smile, hearing but not listening to the mindless prattle of the women around her.
Alone in her room, Anna stared at her reflection in the mirror. She should have known better. The Rogue will always be alone.
She slipped on a matte gold silk gown, held at each shoulder with delicate pearl clasps. It was completely bare to small of her back, wrapping around her hips and flowing down to the floor into a small train behind her. Her makeup was simple but exotic, playing up her feline features, her long hair swept up into a high placed ponytail, falling down in a thick rope against her exposed back. Matching gold stiletto strap sandals stretched her already long legs, one of which peaked through the daringly long slit at the gown’s side. The phone rang, informing her that her limousine was waiting downstairs.
She took one last look at her reflection. She was Anina again. She would escape her reality for one night.
The long black car pulled up to the Pearl River Conservatory entrance. Lights flashed and bulbs popped as she made her way up the red carpet, pausing to take pictures with fans and signing autographs. Smile in place, she made her way into the historic town building, nodding her head in acknowledgment at the smattering of applause she received when she entered the large windowed room.
Anna drank. She drank and drank, champagne flute after champagne flute emptying down her throat. Oliver Tremblant stayed close by, concerned by her behavior. Watching her laugh, he thought back to when he first laid eyes on Anna Marie D’Ancanto, or rather, when he first heard her, that fateful afternoon twenty years ago.
Anna Marie had been sitting on the highest branch of a magnolia tree in the center of the Linwood Academy front garden, surrounded by its white blooms. He was struck by how pretty she was and how young, hardly believing that the voice that drew him outside had originated from a child. She didn’t say a word to him when he instructed her to visit him in the music room, her huge green eyes looking at him, expressionless. He had walked away, disturbed by the strange girl. But when she showed up to his classroom and began to sing for him, Oliver Tremblant knew. The rain-soaked student, who had arrived alone in the middle of the night the week prior, was a child prodigy. The little girl who kept to herself, who never spoke unless spoken to, possessed the voice of an angel.
Under his tutelage she had flourished, amazing both staff and students alike with her vocal gift, but even with all the attention and acceptance she received, she continued to remain alone. During the time Anna Marie had been a student of the prestigious school - a full two years - her parents had never come to visit her. Not once. She never went home for the holidays, never received anything from home; no letters, no gifts, nothing. It was as though she was an orphan. And then, one day, she had vanished.
It haunted him for years afterwards. When Anna Marie didn’t show up to class one morning, Oliver contacted her parents himself after determining she was nowhere to be found on the academy grounds. Mrs. D’Ancanto had answered the phone and informed him that Anna Marie had returned home, unhappy with her experience at the boarding school, and that for the sake of the school’s reputation, she demanded no further contact was to be attempted to either her or her husband. The school dean refused to listen to his suspicions that something was wrong, and insisted he drop the matter, less he found himself unemployed. Unhappy, he reluctantly did.
Oliver became disillusioned and heartbroken. When Owen D’Ancanto had come looking for his daughter years later, the poor man had been devastated to learn that she had disappeared, unaware what his recently deceased wife had done. Oliver Tremblant blamed himself for the loss of little Anna Marie.
Then she reappeared, twelve years later, sitting in the dean’s office, looking for him. That had been the most shocking, and the most wonderful day of his life. They picked up where they had left off; her voice having matured, rich and full from powerful emotions that she was able to convey with incredible ease, desperate to prove to her dead father that she could be, would be, the very best.
And she was. Anina caressed her audiences intimately with her voice; immersing herself effortlessly into every single role she took on. She was Carmen; she was Madame Butterfly; she was Floria Tosca; she was Mimmi. Her passion on stage was unmatched, mercurial in her rise amongst the ranks of long established operatic stars, a sensation the world over. But yet, she continued to remain alone. Many, many men tried to capture her heart, but none had ever succeeded. The passion she emoted on stage was nowhere to be found in her real life, and the trail of heartbreak she left in her wake became well known, lending itself to her allure, to her fame. Until Scott Summers.
But where is he? Her dance card was filled and she twirled on the dance floor, clearly enjoying the attention she was receiving from the attractive men that flocked to her, her handsome boyfriend nowhere to be seen. Women surrounded Anina as well, thrilled feminine gasps peppering the air in reaction to her scandalous tales involving royalty and celebrities, the adoring crowd around her hanging on to her every word. Anina was the Belle of the Ball.
He frowned in concern when she swayed on her feet, smiling flirtatiously at the man who jostled against the others to win the prize of being the one to catch her in his arms. Glancing at his watch, he made his way over to her.
“Anina, don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
She laughed charmingly as she draped an elegant arm around her former manager shoulders, smiling at the group’s disappointed expressions when she walked away with him. “Oh Oliver, let loose. It’s a wonderful night! I see some interesting prospects for you, too.” She winked conspiratorially, accepting another flute of champagne from a passing waiter.
He couldn’t help but melt at the sight of her. Anna Marie D’Ancanto was by far, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Thank goodness he was gay, or he strongly suspected his heart would have been one of the many lost to her long ago. He continued to lead her away from the crowd, removing the glass from her hand and drinking its contents himself when she protested. “The night is coming to an end, and you’re up, Scrumptious.” She pouted, but followed him to the back of the room.
Anina stepped gracefully up onto the stage that was erected in front of a large bay of windows overlooking the extensive magnolia tree arboretum that stretched out for miles, right to the borders of the Willowbend Junior Academy of the Arts. The full moon could be seen through multistoried glass panes, and its glow cast downwards onto the gleaming grand piano Oliver now sat at. The crowd quieted in anticipation as she made her way to the centre of the stage, her solitary figure grabbing their attention.
Her elegant frame was backlit by the moonlight, the muted golden sheen of her gown reflecting softly against her skin. The richness of her dark hair was a sharp contrast against the white tendrils that shot through the rest of its waves that fell over her shoulder. Anina looked like a gilded goddess.
She closed her eyes and became very still. He was here.
The rich, masculine, full bodied aroma that could only be him wafted towards her, and this time, she didn’t fight the accompanying heartache that crashed over her. Marie was done with the masquerade.
The first chords of “Caruso” came from the piano, and she felt the haunting melody rise up inside of her. She felt herself be transported into the song, the crowd hushing themselves as she drew in a long breath, filling her lungs in preparation.
“Qui dove il mare luccica
e dove tira forte il vento,”
She was singing softly, eyes still closed.
“Su una vecchia terrazza
davanti al golfo di Sorriento.”
Then more strongly, she continued,
“Un uomo abbraccia una ragazza
dopo che aveva pianto,
Poi si schiarisce la voce
e ricomincia il canto.”
Here the crowd stopped breathing collectively. She drew in a soft breath that could be heard all the way to the back of the expansive room, and she sang,
“Te voglio bene assai
Ma tanto, ma tanto bene sai
E' una catena ormai
Che scioglie il sangue dint'e vene sai.”
Logan made his way slowly towards her, his eyes intent on the woman who stood on the stage. Her voice, her beautiful voice, had him gripped in its sirenal influence. It possessed him, passion and want infused in it, calling out to him.
“Vide le luci in mezzo al mare
penso alle notti la in America,”
Her eyes opened, and found his unerringly, despite the distance between them in the large room.
“Ma erano solo le lampare
e la bianca scia di un'elica.”
Her eyes were bright with tears. Logan pushed forward, listening to her, needing to get closer to her, as she continued,
“Senti il dolore nella musica
si alzo dal Pianoforte,
Ma quando vide la luna uscire da una nuvola,
Gli sembro piu dolce anche la morte.”
She drew in another quick breath, desperate to tell him,
“Guardo negli occhi la ragazza,
quegli occhi verdi come il mare,
Poi all'improvviso usci una lacrima
e lui credette di affogare.”
Tears swam in her eyes as she held the note hauntingly, collapsing almost into herself as she tore her eyes away from him. She drew in a haggard breath, not sure she could continue as the heartbreak, the crushing sorrow he caused her years ago, threatened to overtake her. But then she stood tall, and lifted her head, holding onto the strength given to her by the beautiful piano chords that ripped the chorus out of her, finding him again.
“Te voglio bene assai.
Ma tanto, ma tanto bene sai
E' una catena ormai
Che scioglie il sangue dint'e vene sai.”
She watched him, his form a dark shadow moving slowly behind the mesmerized crowd. His eyes glittered and an anger took hold of her, at what he did to her, and how it haunted her all those years while on stage, making her break from the melody briefly, drawing her eyes downward.
“La potenza della lirica,
dove ogni dramma, é un falso."
She refused to look at him, continuing,
“Che con un po' di trucco e con la mimica
puoi diventare un altro.”
The pain became unbearable and she wrapped her arms around her waist, taking in another broken breath, but determinedly sang,
“Cosi divento tutto piccolo
anche le notti la in America.”
Her voice broke, thick and tear stung,
“Ti volti e vedi la tua vita
come la scia di un'elica.”
The note hung suspended in the air, pure and clear. She braced herself against the piano beside her, and Logan willed her to look at him and she did, drawing in a sob before singing to him, only for him,
“Te voglio bene assai
Ma tanto, ma tanto bene sai
E' una catena ormai
Che scioglie il sangue dint'e vene sai.”
Her powerful voice exploded across the silent room and she turned to him fully, her love thrown viciously at him as she sang,
“Te voglio bene assai,
Ma tanto ma tanto bene sai…”
Tears streamed down her face, and she hung on to the note like she couldn’t, wouldn’t let it go.
“E' una catena ormai.”
She gasped back her tears, forcing herself to sing,
“Che scioglie il sangue …”
… and she ripped open her lungs one more time, singing softly,
“dint'e vene sai, dint’e vene sai.”
Her voice dissipated hauntingly as she emptied herself completely of air. It became eerily silent, Logan and Marie aware only of each other.
The room exploded around them in deafening applause. Marie felt herself embraced by Oliver, who was openly weeping and he was followed by others, the crowd rushing towards her.
“Oh Anna,” whispered Kitty, her face streaked with tears, humbled by Anna’s pain.
Bobby blinked rapidly, stunned quiet by Anna’s naked display of emotion. They had arrived just as she had begun to make her way to the stage, late, because Kitty insisted they attend the gala in support of their friend, refusing to leave the academy unless they all agreed. Scott and Logan had resisted, until she declared she would never forgive them for making her miss her one chance to see Anina perform live.
Kitty wiped her eyes, seeing Scott leave through the Conservatory front doors. She was tempted to go after him, but looked away with a determined frown. Witnessing Anna express her heartbreak over Logan was a deserving punishment for what he did to her last night. Kitty looked back towards the stage, but couldn’t see Anna anymore through the throng of people who had surrounded her.
Marie was finding it hard to breathe. She tried to smile her gratitude through her tears, but couldn’t find her voice. Oliver, seeing her distress, came to her rescue. “Thank you everyone, thank you. Please move back. Everyone move back, please.”
With the crowd effectively blocked by his body, Marie stepped down to the back of the stage, unable to stop crying. Pain was ripping through her, leaving her gasping and she made her way blindly out into the garden, pulling off her shoes and looping her fingers through the straps so she could escape into the night.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
You are all going to think I have officially lost it, but before you read the following, I STRONGLY suggest that you cut and paste this in your web browser:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jhd-xFASCrM&feature=related
...and listen to this song performed by Lara Fabian. It's "Caruso" composed by Lucio Dalla and this song, sung by this particular singer, is the inspiration for this story. What you are about to read will probably be too confusing without listening it to first (its YouTube by way). If you can't, I apologize in advance because it won't read very well without it.
I'll have the English translation to the song in my end notes. Thanks for reading!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jhd-xFASCrM&feature=related
...and listen to this song performed by Lara Fabian. It's "Caruso" composed by Lucio Dalla and this song, sung by this particular singer, is the inspiration for this story. What you are about to read will probably be too confusing without listening it to first (its YouTube by way). If you can't, I apologize in advance because it won't read very well without it.
I'll have the English translation to the song in my end notes. Thanks for reading!
Chapter End Notes:
"Caruso" performed by Lara Fabian, composed by Lucio Dalla
Here, where the sea shines
and the wind howls
on the old terrace beside
the gulf of Sorrento
A man embraces a girl
after the tears
then clears his throat
and continues the song
I love you very much
very, very much, you know
It is a chain by now
that heats the blood
inside the veins, you know
He saw the lights
out on the sea
thought of the nights
there in America
But they were only
the fisherman's lamps
and the white wash astern
He felt the pain in the music
and stood up from the piano
But then he saw the moon
emerging from a cloud
death also seemed sweeter to him
He looked the girl in the eyes
those eyes as green as the sea
Then suddenly a tear fell
and he believed he was drowning
I love you very much
very, very much, you know
It is a chain by now
that heats the blood
inside the veins, you know
The power of opera
where every drama is a hoax
with a little make-up and with mime
you can become someone else
So everything becomes small
also the nights there in America
You turn and see your life
through the white wash astern
I love you very much
very, very much, you know
It is a chain by now
that heats the blood
inside the veins, you know
I love you very much
very, very much, you know
It is a chain by now
that heats the blood
inside the veins, you know
inside the veins, you know
Here, where the sea shines
and the wind howls
on the old terrace beside
the gulf of Sorrento
A man embraces a girl
after the tears
then clears his throat
and continues the song
I love you very much
very, very much, you know
It is a chain by now
that heats the blood
inside the veins, you know
He saw the lights
out on the sea
thought of the nights
there in America
But they were only
the fisherman's lamps
and the white wash astern
He felt the pain in the music
and stood up from the piano
But then he saw the moon
emerging from a cloud
death also seemed sweeter to him
He looked the girl in the eyes
those eyes as green as the sea
Then suddenly a tear fell
and he believed he was drowning
I love you very much
very, very much, you know
It is a chain by now
that heats the blood
inside the veins, you know
The power of opera
where every drama is a hoax
with a little make-up and with mime
you can become someone else
So everything becomes small
also the nights there in America
You turn and see your life
through the white wash astern
I love you very much
very, very much, you know
It is a chain by now
that heats the blood
inside the veins, you know
I love you very much
very, very much, you know
It is a chain by now
that heats the blood
inside the veins, you know
inside the veins, you know