Chapter 6 - GENEVIEVE
Elodie’s mother was not dead.
That distinguished this story from half the tragedies my relatives seemed determined to create around women.
Genevieve Clarke was alive, healthy, furious, and in Copenhagen when I called her.
We had divorced two years earlier.
Not because of betrayal.
Because we were excellent parents together and terrible spouses in the same house.
Genevieve was a former professional dancer who now staged movement for theatre and film. She had met Marcella long before I dated her because Bellweather used Genevieve as a guest teacher occasionally.
When I told her what happened, there were eight seconds of silence.
Then:
“She cut the shoe while Elodie was wearing it?”
“Yes.”
“Did the scissors touch her?”
“No.”
“Did you hit Marcella?”
“Yes.”
Another silence.
“Niccolò.”
“I know.”
“What did you say?”
I told her.
Longer silence.
“You absolute idiot.”
“I know.”
Then:
“Put Elodie on.”
I did.
Genevieve did not ask:
Did Marcella scare you?
Did she hurt you?
She asked:
“Do you still want to dance tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Then dance.”
Simple.
Then:
“Mommy, shoe broke.”
“I heard.”
“New shoe.”
“Good.”
“Blue part.”
“I know.”
The child moved forward.
Adults remained behind.
Then Genevieve asked to speak privately.
She knew about Prima Figlia.
More than I did.
Years earlier, when Bellweather first partnered with the Ferraro Foundation, Genevieve had challenged the hereditary opening tradition.
She was the one who called it “dynastic casting.”
Marcella never forgave her.
At a foundation planning session three years earlier, Genevieve said:
“If the children are students, cast them as students. If you want a bloodline procession, stop calling it dance education.”
Brutal.
Accurate.
The foundation later agreed.
This year was the first full implementation.
Then Genevieve said:
“Marcella thinks I killed the tradition.”
“You helped.”
“Yes.”
“Did she confront you?”
“Constantly.”
I had not known.
Why?
“Because we were already divorcing, and I didn’t want every disagreement becoming Ferraro business.”
There.
Again.
People filtering information around the man perceived as powerful.
Then Genevieve told me the deepest thing she knew.
Marcella once said:
“You can afford to hate the tradition because nobody took it from you.”
Genevieve asked what that meant.
Marcella refused to explain.
Now we knew.
Twelve-year-old Marcella.
Replaced.
Humiliated.
May you like
Then watching Genevieve help abolish the only system that could theoretically give Scarlett the role back.
To Marcella, reform had looked like theft twice.
