The Royal Scandal | Prince William |

The Long Goodbye

The scene starts at 23:00 minutes!

January 6, 2011

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The day of January sixth seems to equally drag and speed by. She spends the morning feeling as if the night cannot come fast enough, but when she finally sits in front of her vanity it feels too soon. Her dressing room is stuffed to the brim with flowers, every square consumed with fragrant blossoms of all types. Her favorites are the white hydrangeas that sit at the corner of her mirror, a note that reads: with all my love, tied to the front.

Becoming the Slyph is easier than becoming the Sugar Plum Fairy. There's no wig, no rhinestones, no stiff heavy costume she has to restrict around her body. Jaclyn pins a flower crown atop her head, pulls on the long tutu and exhales as the silk bodice clips closed. As she slips on her arm poofs someone from wardrobe pins her veil in her bun despite her insistence that she can do it.

"Still stubborn I see."

She turns to see her dad leaning against the doorframe to her dressing room. He's replaced his cutoff for a thankfully ironed button up, but his boots and jeans remain the same. Jaclyn sighs standing up to go hug him. Sometimes it's easier to accept defeat.

"What are you doing back here?" She asks, careful to not mess up the hairpieces. Usually her family wait until after to see her. In fact, her dad hasn't come backstage since the opening night of Nutcracker when she was nine. It was her first solo role as the actual nutcracker, and while the months leading up to opening were filled with excitement the girls in rehearsals teased her relentlessly. Sneering that she only got the part because she was short.

When it was time to actually go on stage her nine year old self was petrified to move. It was her dad who pinned her hat in, stuck the red circles to her cheeks, wiped away her smudged eyeliner, and coaxed her to get on stage.

Just under an inch shorter than him now, Jaclyn clings to the memory. They've moved through nineteen years without looking back, never stopping long enough to grasp how much time has changed them until recently.

Finally Brad shrugs, diverting his eyes now that he can't hide behind his sunglasses. Perhaps, he want to hold onto the memory too. Their first time, and now their last time.
"How are you feeling?" He asks instead of airing his own grievances.

In the same way he did she shrugs, hand clasping around the tulle puffs. "Last time I'll be dancing." The words feel lifeless on her tongue. She hasn't allowed herself the chance to stop and consider how she feels now that the day has arrived. There is no regret, but still she fears it may jump her randomly when she is least suspecting.

"Last time we'll ever get to see you dance," her dad sighs. He shifts his weight, eyes moving with the same anxiousness as he refuses to look where she is sitting.

A part of her worries that he is disappointed. Did he think the years, the money, all of it was wasted now with her leaving? A career of nine years was short all things considered, her replacement would eclipse her star with no problem. She fiddled with the stem of a loose carnation, and as she simmers in worry Brad crouches beside her.

"I know that look." His elbows rest on his knees, the button up wrinkling awkwardly, and finally his expression softens into the relaxed one she is so accustomed to. "What are you thinking? If you want to change your mind I'll figure out how to-"