It had only been a second or two since she had bumped into the other woman. She had tried her best to avoid her, but for some reason, she kept moving towards her. Maybe she was just disoriented after being frozen like that, but the others nearby didn’t seem to be.
“Ça va ?” (“Are you ok?”) one of the women near her asked as they helped her to her feet.
Karyn didn’t understand a word of what the woman had said. She simply nodded at her. Now back on her feet, she began to dust herself down, and that was when she noticed that her clothes were different.
Gone was her green V-neck sweater, as was her gray undershirt. What was going on? Her favourite jeans had vanished. Even her gray sneakers had disappeared. In their place was a champagne-colored satin dressing robe that shimmered beneath the backstage lighting. It’s not that it wasn’t a nice robe, it just wasn’t her robe. The robe hung loosely around her frame, tied casually at the waist with a matching sash. Beneath it, she could see a fitted satin corset-style bodice with delicate seam detailing. On her legs, pale stockings held by elegant garter straps. It was then she noticed the long gloves that covered her hands, while modest satin heels — she didn’t wear heels — rested on her feet instead of her sneakers. She hadn’t been wearing this stuff before she had bumped into that woman and ended up on the floor.
What was going on?
She turned towards the door of the dressing room and saw Jon heading towards her. Maybe he had the answer.
Jon reached the doorway when an older woman appeared out of nowhere.
“Vous ne pouvez pas entrer. Réservé aux membres de la troupe.” (“You can not go inside. Troupe members only.”) she said, pointing toward a sign on the door that neither Jon nor Karyn could understand.
“I only want to help my friend,” Jon tried to explain to the woman.
“Ah… you are Engleesh,” the woman said in a thick French accent.
“No, American,” Jon answered her.
Madeleine Fournier stood at the center of the doorway, trying to work out if it was a good thing or not that the person in front of her was American. She wasn’t sure yet.
“Non, monsieur, you cannot go inside. Troupe members only,” she repeated in the same controlled French accent she had used before.
“Ok, sorry, but I just want to get my friend; she fell inside when she bumped into that woman over there,” Jon told her.
“Ah, I see… but still, I cannot let you inside. I will fetch her for you, oui?” Madeleine said, turning to look inside the dressing room for this strangely dressed young man’s friend.
Almost straight away, her eyes fell upon Karyn.
