Page 73 of Unholy Union
Instead, we focus on the food—and it turns out to be for the better.
The sushi is pretty good. I’m uncertain as I sample a few different kinds of rolls, first opting for things that seem boring and safe, like a roll with shrimp and avocado.
Sabrina eventually eggs me on into trying one with raw salmon. She bursts into giggles watching as I pin it with my chopsticks and struggle to get it in my mouth. But her loudest laugh comes when I put too much wasabi on a roll with eel on it.
“I told you wasabi is an acquired taste!”
“Why do they give you a whole huge glob of it?” I cough, pounding a fist to my chest.
She covers her face with her hands, occasionally peeking through her fingers as she stifles her bright, infectious laughter.
I can’t deny that it’s one of the best dinners I’ve had in a while, even with the wasabi inflaming my throat and making me chug a glass of iced water.
We leave Kaori and decide to walk the few blocks to the David A. Koch Theater. Sabrina gasps as she realizes where we’re headed and what show we’ll be seeing tonight. She grabs hold of my arm and squeezes it, almost like we’re a real couple and she can hardly contain her excitement.
I can hardly contain my grin.
I stare at her, brow cocked and ask, “What’s all that squealing for?”
“You’re taking me to seeNocturne of the Damned? You didn’t say we were seeingNocturne of the Damned!”
“Alright, alright, you might want to quiet down. I think they heard you in Staten Island.”
She taps her feet in even more excitement like she can’t possibly wait another second, then startspullingon my arm toward the theater.
I rasp out a laugh as I let her.
It’s easily the happiest, most gleeful I’ve ever seen her. If I’d known it would make her this happy, I’d?—
I cut off the thought there, quickly reminding myself I can’t get carried away. We’re having a good time tonight and I’m enjoying myself as much as she seems to be, but I’ve still got to keep my wits about me.
No matter how damn adorable it is to see Sabrina so excited.
Still, Idolaugh and let her bounce and rock on her feet the whole way into the theater. As we enter the front doors, she’s started babbling about the show and dance company, telling me all about the history and the premise of the ballet.
I’ve never been a theater guy. This is my first time even attending a ballet.
But I’m keeping an open mind.
Once we’re seated, the theater lights begin dimming. I glance over at Sabrina and find her already enraptured. She sits spine straight, fingers clutching the program in her lap, eyes trained on the velvet curtain like it might rise at any second.
She hasn’t stopped smiling since she found out we were seeing this show. It’s genuine, bright enough to outshine the gilded sconces casting a golden wash over the mezzanine. And when she looks at me, flashing that smile in my direction, instant warmth spreads inside my chest.
It feels like a reward.
“I can’t believe we’re really here. I’ve been dying to see it since last year,” she whispers, leaning close. “They only do a limited run, and it sells outsofast.”
“I can tell. You look like a junkie about to get her fix.”
She doesn’t even rise to the bait, simply smiling wider and turning back to the stage as the orchestra tunes their final notes and the room fades into darkness.
The curtain lifts on a foggy graveyard set under a sickle moon, the dancers emerging like spirits from the gloom.
It’s not the sort of performance I’d normally sit through, but it’s surprisingly absorbing.
The story follows a doomed violinist who makes a Faustian bargain to bring back the ghost of his beloved, only to be dragged into the realm of the damned. The dancers move with expertise, their bodies coiling and contorting across the stage, telling a story that’s more about emotion than control.
It’s gothic and dark but romantic at the same time.
