Chapter 29 - Duval’s Empty Theater
Duval’s theater was empty when I arrived.
That was deliberate.
I knew it before his assistant said he preferred artists to understand a room without an audience.
The seats rose into darkness.
A single light stood onstage.
I could smell dust, paint, and old velvet.
Every theater had its own breath.
This one seemed to be waiting.
Camille sat beside me.
Alexander did not attend.
We had agreed on that.
He wanted to be there.
I wanted the meeting to begin with my work, not his money.
Armand Duval entered through a side aisle.
He was silver-haired, elegant, and less theatrical than I expected.
He shook my hand.
“Miss Rostova.”
“Mr. Duval.”
He looked toward the stage.
“Your mother understood an empty room.”
“So do the people who clean them.”
His eyes returned to me.
Then he smiled.
Not mockingly.
“Fair correction.”
He showed us a longer segment.
Seven minutes.
My mother worked through a sequence beside a pianist.
She stopped twice.
Argued about tempo.
Changed an arm.
Nothing about her looked divine.
She looked hardworking.
I loved that more than perfection.
Near the end, a man crossed the back of the studio carrying a length of timber.
My father.
I made a sound I could not control.
Duval paused the recording immediately.
“Do you need a moment?”
“Yes.”
Camille remained quiet beside me.
My father looked tired.
Younger than the version grief had preserved.
He stopped to watch my mother.
She noticed him and rolled her eyes.
“Don’t look at the wall. Look at me.”
“I built the wall,” he replied.
She laughed.
Then the image shook as someone adjusted the camera.
I covered my face.
For years, I had remembered their marriage through sickness and bills.
Here was ordinary love.
A carpenter proud of a wall.
A dancer demanding he appreciate the more important construction in front of it.
When I could speak, I asked whether I could obtain a private family copy independently of any performance agreement.
Duval considered the question.
“That was not the proposed structure.”
“I know.”
“Access is part of the project.”
“My father appearing in a room is not a production opportunity.”
His expression changed.
He did not become angry.
He became attentive.
Camille asked that the family-copy question be addressed separately.
Duval agreed to consider it.
Then we discussed the work.
He wanted a reconstruction developed for his theater.
A documentary component.
A premiere.
A possible tour.
The proposal required substantial exclusivity.
It gave him influence over production choices and publicity.
Some of that belonged in a producer’s contract.
Some went too far.
I asked what happened if my body was not ready.
He said the schedule could be adjusted within limits.
I asked whether the piece could be credited honestly as a reconstruction from incomplete materials.
He hesitated.
“Unfinished is difficult to sell.”
I looked toward the stage.
“It’s also what it is.”
He leaned back.
“You are less eager than people told me.”
“I am eager. That’s why I need to be careful.”
For the first time, he looked pleased.
Perhaps because an artist who could refuse was more interesting.
Perhaps because difficult negotiations amused him.
I did not need to decide which.
Before we left, he asked whether I would stand onstage.
“No dancing required.”
I looked at Camille.
She shrugged slightly.
My choice.
I walked into the light.
The room opened in front of me.
Empty seats.
Silence.
Possibility.
I understood what he was offering.
Not merely a trap.
A real stage.
Real resources.
Real reach.
That made refusal harder.
It also made the questions more important.
At the edge of the light, I performed one small movement.
A turn of the head.
A breath through the arms.
Then I stopped.
Duval remained in the aisle.
“You belong here,” he said.
I looked out at him.
“Perhaps. That doesn’t mean I belong to whoever owns it.”
He did not answer immediately.
Then he inclined his head.
“Send me your revisions.”
Outside, I called Alexander.
“How was it?” he asked.
I looked back at the theater doors.
“Complicated.”
May you like
“Good complicated or bad?”
“I think I finally understand why both can look beautiful.”
