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My father eyed me uncertainly. There were several empty whiskey glasses in front of his plate. His gaze was glassy, and his breath smelled strongly of the intense alcohol.
"Actually, I shouldn't let you go to the toilets alone, but now that Charlotte is no longer here, I guess I have no other choice," he said. Suddenly, a broad grin formed on his lips, "I can't very well accompany you to the ladies' room," he chuckled drunkenly.
Briefly, I closed my eyes to suppress the spinning. Then, swaying slightly, I stood up, bracing myself against the table. Before my father could address me on my visible buzz, I walked through the hall, focusing on the exit. The individual groups of tables were like the elements in an obstacle course, and I could never be quite sure whether I would end up in the food of one of the guests or make it around the table.
Finally, I had reached the large double door, which stood wide open. I briefly considered which of the washrooms would be the next. I quickly decided on the one just around the corner from the European sculptures. A daring idea matured in my head. And before I could talk myself out of it, I had set a course for the room. If I was already in the museum, nothing spoke against looking at a bit of art.
Driven by the tempting thought, I hurried before anyone could notice me. Instead of entering the restrooms, I continued straight ahead and hid behind a pillar just before the entranceto one of my two favorite halls. My heart was pounding way too fast, and the dizziness from the alcohol had flown away.
Silently, I remained in my hiding place and watched as a security guard strode through the gallery, then, to my relief, turned into the exhibition room with the African works. Besides that, I couldn't see anybody.
Without hesitation, I slipped into the room and stood directly amid the enormous marble and stone statues. Above me, the opulent glass roof revealed the starry sky, and numerous legendary figures looked at me questioningly down here. As I did when I visited in my student days, I strolled among the sculptures. With the severed head of Medusa in his hand, Perseus had particularly taken my fancy. I didn't know why, but it gave me a David-and-Goliath feeling. Somehow, there was hope in his actions. Hope for freedom, peace, music, dance, and more. In the old days, people had laughed at these galas; an orchestra had played, and the guests had danced to it. How beautiful that must have been. Here, amid the works of art, the sculptures, and the history from thousands of years.
The ballet was my great passion, along with self-defense training. I even made it to the renowned ballet school of the American Ballet Theatre. But at some point, I decided that I couldn't imagine a life without dance, but also, I couldn't imagine a life just for dance. It was difficult for me to take this path, but I never regretted it.
With the memories of my years at Lincoln Center and on the stage of the Metropolitan Opera, I heard, as if in the mists of time, the Snowflake Waltz from the balletThe Nutcracker. Of their own accord, my feet moved to the beat of the bell-like sounds, and the next moment, I was gliding almost weightlessly through the elongated auditorium. Only the stars above me were witnesses to a centuries-old ballet whose step sequences I stillknew by heart and which seemed to draw me further into its vortex with every movement.
It was like flying. A long-lost feeling of absolute happiness, of the unfolding of my being, shot through my entire body and brought it to life.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps in the hall. Crap, I would be discovered at any moment! Torn too quickly from the moment's magic, I hid behind the next best sculpture and hoped fervently that I was wrong. Secretly visiting the gallery and dancing there would undoubtedly send me directly to the stake.
Oddly enough, even this awareness did not cause me to fear death.
The footsteps came closer and closer, and now I noticed that it was not just one pair of feet but two. Did the footsteps come from guards making their rounds?
"Myrina!" I unexpectedly heard a male voice coo. I did not recognize it, and the aggressive undertone made me suspect I wanted to keep it that way. But how did this unknown person know my name?
"Myrina! Show yourself to us!" The same man shouted again.
"We know you're here. There's no point in hiding," a second voice hissed impatiently. A shiver ran down my spine. Danger! Its bitter taste was on my tongue, and I felt it deep into my smallest cells. I was in danger! These were not guards overseeing the halls. No, these men had been sent to find me and take me away.
The realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. The missing young women! Was I next?
The clacking of shoes on the marble floor came closer. I had to get out of here. And I had to do it now. Cautiously, I peered through the gap between the statue's legs and saw the shadow of one of the guys not far from my hiding place. The way back was thus cut off, and I could only flee into the next hall.
I quickly sought shelter behind the sculpture again, took a deep breath, and gathered all my courage.You won't make it that easy for them, Myrina! Then I sprinted off. I tried to be as quiet as possible, but with its thousands of extra fabric layers, my dress rustled so loudly that I could not remain undetected.
"Carl, the bitch is trying to escape! Hurry up! After her!" one of them shouted, encouraging me to run even faster. With my ballerinas, I slithered over the slippery corridors and reached the Department of African Art with a beating heart. This is where the security guard had gone to!
"Help! Please help me!" I screamed so loudly that my voice rolled over.
"No one will come to your aid, Myrina!" I heard one of my pursuers shout. He was close, much too tight.
"No one can hear you. We've made sure of that. There is no escape. You belong to us. We're sure to have a lot of fun with you."
The last words and the accompanying dirty laughter caused me nausea, and I had to swallow the bitter wine coming up again. Nevertheless, I ran on undeterred without daring to look behind me. My condition was grotty from the sportless years, but endless hours of manual labor. A side stitch tormented me with every breath, and I became noticeably slower. Nevertheless, I could not give up. I circled the various exhibition boxes, tables, benches, and sculptures in a slalom. Since, as I had seen out of the corner of my eye, I was smaller than the two burly men, I got around the curves more quickly and was thus able to increase the distance again somewhat.
I slipped into the hall with Greek and Roman art the next moment.Statues!Hastily, I looked around. Nowhere was a guard or any other human being to be discovered. The entrance hall was close. But what if it was also empty? I could not physically manage to run away any longer. I was so terribly outof breath that I thought I would collapse with every further step. I had no choice; I had to hide again and hope the two would continue running to the Great Hall.
At the level of the fountain, in the center of the hall, I dove, gasping, behind the pedestal of a work of art with three female and headless statues.
Just in time because I already heard how the first one came running into the hall. While I tried to suppress my panting, I was shaking all over. On the one hand, from exhaustion and, on the other hand, from fear. Panic ran ice-cold down my back, and horror tingled in my neck.
Huddled together, I crouched motionless behind the stone cube. Hopefully, my stupid dress didn't stick out anywhere. Sweat wetted my upper lip and forehead. If I ever got out of here alive, I had to work on my condition somehow.
Without warning, strong fingers clawed painfully into my shoulder, and I was dragged rudely from my hiding place. My pursuers had discovered me. I had lost. No, I was lost. My legs were threatening to sag out from under me in fear.
The men wore the same penguin tails as the other waiters, and I thought I remembered the taller of the two had brought me a glass of wine. Grimly, they looked at me now, and the drops of sweat on their faces gave me at least a little satisfaction; I had not made it easy for them. It was a small victory at a very high price.
