Cutler 03 - Twilight's Child

think about that part of it anymore, Trish. I'm very happy now, and I have Christie. That's all that really matters. Michael couldn't be more out of my life. Why, hearing you talk about him now doesn't even affect me," I lied. Deep in my heart of hearts I would never forget the way Michael had betrayed and abandoned me. I had loved him so, but my love had meant nothing to him.
    "I'm glad. Do you think you will ever sing again, Dawn?" she asked.
    "I hope so, someday. Right now I have plenty to occupy me between Christie and the hotel."
    "I can't wait to see the baby. Who does she look like more?"
    "She has some of Michael's looks, but right now she looks more like me," I said, adding another lie, remembering the times when I looked at Christie and saw Michael and how much it hurt as old memories returned to haunt me before I banished them.
    "I have to get going," Trisha said. "Oodles of silly things to do. I'll speak to you soon. Bye."
    "Bye, Trish."
    I sat there for a moment with the receiver still in my hand, Trisha's voice trailing off in my memory like a leaf being carried off in a wind, growing smaller and smaller and smaller until it was gone.
    Once I was young and innocent and full of dreams. It brought a smile to my face to recall first arriving in New York, being afraid of the traffic and the people and the tall buildings, and not knowing how to react to the eccentric retired actress, Agnes Morris, who ran our residence. And then Trisha burst into my life and introduced me to all the excitement, the nightlife, the cafes, the shops and museums and the theater. She had come with me to audition for Michael Sutton, who was choosing only a few lucky students to be in his vocal class. Trisha and I had squealed with delight that morning and run up the sidewalks and across the streets, holding hands, our hearts beating madly.
    And then we saw him. He looked as if he had stepped off the cover of a fan magazine. I would never forget how light my heart felt when he turned to gaze at me and our eyes met. There were so many promises hanging in the air between us, ready to be snatched and savored. We had a dream romance, the kind of romance depicted in songs and stories. What music we made when we sang together.
    Even now I could still hear his voice.
    "Hey," Jimmy said, stepping out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around him. "Why are you sitting there with the phone in your hand, smiling? Is anyone on the phone?"
    "Oh . . . I looked at the receiver as if just realizing I held it. "Trisha just called," I said quickly. "She's so excited about the wedding."
    "Good." Jimmy stared at me. "You all right?"
    "Yes," I said weakly, and I placed the receiver in the cradle. "No," I added, looking up at him. "Oh, Jimmy, hold me, hold me as if you were holding me for the last time."
    He came to me quickly and embraced me. I rested my head against his cool chest, and he kissed my hair.
    "Don't talk like that," he said. "We have a long, long way to go before I hold you for the last time."
    His words were meant to be like drops of warm, gentle rain, soothing. But I felt as if I were sitting with my face pressed against a windowpane and the drops streaked over the glass like tears.
    Even so, I raised my face so his lips could find mine and fill me with hope.

 
    4

MY WEDDING DAY
     
    AS JIMMY'S AND MY WEDDING DAY DREW CLOSER AN AIR OF excitement developed in and around the hotel. Preparations swallowed up everyone's attention. I felt as if I were walking on air or parading across a giant stage. I sensed people staring at me all the time and saw them smiling. My heart was in a state of perpetual flutter, and I couldn't help suffering periodic dizzy spells. All I could do was sit down and try to calm myself whenever that happened.
    The only unpleasant event that occurred was when Mother came running to tell me about Clara Sue's problems at school. I knew that Clara Sue was bursting with jealousy. Whenever she called home, the wedding was all Mother or anyone would talk about. She hated that I was getting all this attention. Even Philip was excited about it now, and he told her so when he spoke with her. She refused to come home and instead got herself into more and more trouble.
    Mother came flying into my room while I was putting Christie to sleep. It was Sissy's night off.
    "1 don't know what I'm going to do," she cried, with real tears escaping those dainty lids. She wrung her handkerchief in her hand and paced. "Mrs. Turnbell has