When We Lost Our Heads

As the guests arrived, the snowflakes had begun falling outside, blinking on and off like fairy lights. They were happy to wear costumes, as it offered them permission to abandon their regular roles and abandon themselves to the world of Marie Antoine and Sadie Arnett.

There were too many Napoleons in the ballroom that night. Marie had considered putting a limit on how many Napoleons could come to her party. But then she decided to simply let it happen naturally.

Anne Boleyn was laughing. She was exhibiting her neck to everyone around her. There was what appeared to be a blood-soaked bandage tied around her neck. Queen Elizabeth was wearing a tall red wig that had tilted to the side. She had her legs on Sir Lancelot’s lap as she was popping colorful macarons into her mouth. Robin Hood was peeing out a window in the hallway.

These characters from history gave the attendees at the ball license to act grandiose and wild. They were more licentious and more vain. They weren’t worried about their reputations. If there was anything these figures proved, it was that degeneracy paid off.

There was a sort of sickness that set in after midnight. You couldn’t feel that much joy without beginning to feel nauseous. Joy makes everyone ill. The ones who weren’t used to feeling joy, who were solitary and melancholic most days, were the first to go. The lightweights were passed out. Cleopatra had fallen asleep on the toilet seat with her chin on her fist. Then the happy ones, who sought out ecstatic moments on a regular basis—they were still awake. They weren’t going to be taken down by a small amount of joy. They were the true epicureans. They were ready.

And just like the old days when her father was still alive, this was when Marie began to shine as the true queen of the ball. She was like an athlete who waits for their opponent to tire before they make a display of their prowess.

At one in the morning, Marie was twirling with a ribbon around her waist. She was engaged in a ribbon dance. A wide ribbon was wrapped around a woman’s waist. It was then pulled by a man, and the woman spun out to the side of the room. Marie unfurled like the petals of a flower. It was a pretty thing to watch. Sadie walked up to her on the dance floor. She held Marie’s face in her hands and kissed it all over. Then they began dancing together without any intention of letting go this time. Everyone cleared the dance floor to observe this peculiar friendship.

They danced like they had no feet but were swinging around as though they were two swirling puppets in the hands of a careless puppeteer.

It was then that Marie clapped her hands and announced to Sadie, “I have a gift for you!” She hurried over to a structure that had been brought out while they were dancing and had been covered in a golden velvet cloth. Marie pulled off the cloth, unveiling the series of etchings of Goblin Market that were standing on easels.

Sadie stood next to her friend, looking into the etchings, moved in a way she never had been before. She was bewitched by the illustrations that had once been the setting for their discord but now seemed to represent everything that was intimate and passionate about their relationship. The women both knew nothing could ever separate them again.

A maid came out and handed Marie and Sadie a plate with two cupcakes. The frosting on the cakes was in the shape of pink roses. Delighted to see a rose in the middle of winter, Marie sunk her teeth into one and devoured it.

Sadie stuffed the cupcake in her mouth whole. She immediately felt nauseous because of all the Champagne she had been drinking. She stood up, walked behind her chair, and vomited up the cake before she was able to digest it. She then lay on the floor with her eyes closed. She had been drinking so much Champagne, she knew she would eventually be sick. But she didn’t mind. She really quite liked the feeling of throwing up. It was as though she had exorcized all her demons. Her head was so much lighter. She thought she and Marie had been as festive as anyone possibly could. She had at least lived this night to its fullest. They had had one night of unearthly delight.

Sadie opened her eyes when she began to hear the screaming. She sat up and saw Marie was bent over and shaking. Marie was breathing too heavily, as though her chest were a locomotive engine. A train pulling out of the station and beginning to speed up. “It’s the cake,” she said. “It’s poisoned.” She was so pale. She looked as though she were made of porcelain and if she fell over, her fingers would break off. Marie sunk into her dress as though it were a luxurious bubble bath. Sadie, suddenly sober, rushed over to her.

Sadie leaned into Marie’s body, calling to her. But there were arms holding her back. She looked at the hands grasping her from behind. They had long twiglike fingers. Sadie shuddered and cried out. She felt the arms of the goblins begin to reach out and twist themselves around her. She turned to look at them. There were a hundred goblins all around her.

They looked as though their skin had been shrunken to stick to their bones. They looked like they were roots of trees that had been pulled up. They had grown under the earth. You would pull them up by the tail. They longed for the darkness and the feeling of being stuck in the cold and the dark. They stank like death.

The goblins pulled her hair. Their fingers were slimy. They stuck to her skin. Each fingerprint had to be pulled off her as though from a murder scene. She knew they didn’t have the antidote at all. Marie was poisoned and there was nothing she could do. She fell to her knees and buried her head in Marie’s chest and wailed so loud, even the goblins were afraid. They climbed inside her brain to hide.



* * *





Outside, the snow was falling down in Montreal in a way that it never did anywhere else in the world. It was coming down so thick. Its snowflakes were made out of fur. They were in a snow globe that had been shaken wildly and then put back on the shelf ever so gently and allowed to rest. The roses were dreaming underneath the ground.





CHAPTER 49


    Requiem for a Beautiful Monster



Everyone knew Marie had a penchant for beautiful funerals. A fleet of white horses was pulling a white sleigh behind the carriage that contained Marie’s coffin. It looked like a circus caravan. A young boy seated next to the driver climbed off the sleigh. He went around back and pulled on a chain that raised the roof of the carriage.

Such a huge flock of doves burst out of the sleigh. The flocks of birds flew up like the pages of a manuscript tossed into the air. In fact, many had expected doves to come out of there. But they hadn’t expected quite so many. No one could even say how that many doves had been shoved in there. It must have involved a certain amount of cruelty. But what is the point of contemplating cruelty once the damage is done?

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