"I'm his future, his justification for all his terrible sacrifices," she said. "I will succeed."
She said it with such vehemence and intensity, she made my heart skip beats. I thought the look an her face was wonderful. and I thought it was all there in her voice, in the way she made the audience freeze in awe of her talent.
Rose had came here at what she hoped was to be the end of a trail of betrayals. She had loved her own father very much and she talked often about the way he had made her feel special, but she also admitted she had sensed something very insubstantial about him, something so carefree and irresponsible that he was more like a little boy. His adulterous affair had left her and her mother destitute as well as in shock and disbelief. Her mother, however, looked at it as a betrayal only of her, as if Rose wouldn't suffer anywhere near as much.
When Evan's aunt, Charlotte Alden Curtis, the sister of her father's lover, came to them for help with Evan, making them feel they had to bear the responsibility of what her father had done, she readily accepted the consequences. Slowly, Charlotte corrupted Rose's mother, deliberately setting her up with a womanizer just to enjoy some sick revenge. Ironically, however, all this brought Rose closer to her handicapped brother, and together they found a way for her to develop her dancing talent and defeat Charlotte's revenge. A child of betrayals. Rose could never betray Evan's efforts, for he saw his own validation in her successes.
Cinnamon was most puzzling from the beginning. There was always a sharpness, an underlying bitterness behind every look and word. She seemed to be able to touch a deeper, darker world and draw upon it to strengthen herself. Ghosts, spirits, shadows fertilized and enriched her view of life, rather than frightened her. Despite her distaste for Howard Rockwell, she enjoyed being on stage, even if it had to be with him. Watching her perform. I felt she didn't memorize lines and pretend to be someone, but instead permitted and enjoyed having that new persona possess her, just the way she claimed the spirits that lived in her home had possessed her. The theater was really her world, far more than Howard Rockwell would ever appreciate or ever know.
Nevertheless, what Cinnamon proposed, even though she knew what impact that proposal could have on her own future, truly surprised me. It wasn't until lunch hour that she and I were able to relate to Ice and Rose what we had discovered the night before. They were both as sickened and disgusted about it as we were.
"The fact is." Cinnamon pointed out. "I don't know who we should blame more for all this, our sick Howard Rockwell or Madame Senetsky, whose need to protect her image and reputation far outweighs her own daughter's needs."
"It amazes me how indifferent and aloof some parents can be toward their own children." Rose said, her own life clearly an example. "When that umbilical cord is cut, it's cut. It's almost as if they feel they've done their duty in just giving birth, fulfilled some responsibility to the species or something, and then go on to travel the Selfish Highway, terrified that we'll somehow cause them to lose one moment's pleasure."
"Whatever." Cinnamon said, impatient to tell us what she wanted us to do. "I have a plan. and I'll need everyone's cooperation."
When she described it to us, we were all speechless. We tried to talk her out of it, but she was adamant.
"You'll take the most blame," I pointed out to her. She shrugged it off.
"I admire Madame Senetsky for her
accomplishments, of course. but I ask myself. would I like to be her?" She smiled and shook her head. "I have no problem with that answer, and I'd bet everything I have and will have that none of you do either. However, if anyone here would rather not be a part of this. I certainly understand."
"I'll help," I said without hesitation.
"Of course I'll help," Rose said.
"Me, too." Ice added.
"Look at it this way," Cinnamon said. "We'll be like producers and directors."
"What will we call this major production of ours?" Rose asked. Cinnamon thought a moment.
"How about 'Falling Curtain'?"
No one laughed. If anything, it made us all pause and give it some deep thought.
Falling curtain.
It was too true, too descriptive, and too much of a prophecy to belittle or ignore.
As if Fate knew what was best for us and had decided to take a hand in what was to follow, unexpected events dictated we would be alone when we most needed support. Mommy called me the next day, very upset. Daddy's new combine had broken down, and he was tied up with that and some other problems on the farm.
"We just can't get away, sweetheart. I know how much you wanted us to be there."
I was about to say. "No, you don't. Mommy," but instead I assured her I would be fine. Maybe I was a good actress after all, I thought. Maybe it rubs off.
Cinnamon learned the next day that her mother had come down with a severe chest cold and was unable to travel even ten miles. That evening. Ice's father called to tell her about the death of his uncle and how his need to attend the funeral in South Carolina would prevent him from coming to New York as well. Rose's mother had already written off any attempt to attend our next Performance Night.
We had only ourselves. We hoped it was enough.
"Now we'll take on one of our most difficult acting jobs." Cinnamon instructed. "Grin and bear it. ladies. Well all treat Howard Rockwell the same as usual. Pretend we know nothing about what he has done."
"I'll be biting my lip so hard. I'll get blisters," Rose complained.
"It'll be hardest for you on that stage. Cinnamon, rehearsing with him." I pointed out.