I
Orpheus plays ragtime. Eurydice dances. The crowded hall shakes with the synchronized steps of enthralled revelers. Jangling syncopation. Frenzied footwork. Sound and motion intertwining. Every night the crowd grows, as if the whole city yearns to lose itself in Orpheus’ orgiastic rhapsodies. His songs are sacred rites: ever new to the nightly initiates yet sadly familiar, like long-healed heartache. As Helios rises in his chariot, the celebrants retire. Eurydice remains. Orpheus smiles.
II
Orpheus and Eurydice marry in the spring. It rains, but Eurydice’s cousins dance anyway. The clouds break long enough for Orpheus’ father to make an appearance. The newlyweds move into an apartment near the park. In the mornings, Orpheus composes, while Eurydice sits at the open window breathing in dewy air yet untainted by the waking city.
III
Orpheus tells Eurydice to stay home. It is his first night playing at a seedy underground club. He takes the stage to riotous applause. Disguised, Eurydice lingers in the shadows at the back of the club. Her cousins, never ones to pass on the festivities, flit across the floor. They beckon to her. She joins. Orpheus’ music is radiant, like the first rays of the midsummer sun. Eurydice’s movements reflect it perfectly. The crowd parts to make space for graceful limbs as they unite time and space. Aristaeus, the club manager, watches her. So does Orpheus.
IV
At home they fight. Shouting and silent treatment. Neither goes back to the club, but Orpheus plays at others. He works long nights, while Eurydice makes herself content alone at home, tapping her foot to the muted tune coming from the neighbor’s record player. Letters sealed with beeswax are delivered under the door by an admirer. She is flattered but never responds.
V
Orpheus sits at the empty kitchen table. He handles the small wooden box left on his doorstep. He opens the box. A dancer lurches up from captivity and spins a slow spin in front of the mirror on the back of the lid. A song plays on tiny tines: a waltz in a minor key. One of his own compositions. Attached to the mirror is a card with an address. He puts on his coat and hat and walks down to the street. He pulls his collar up against the north wind.
VI
Deep in the basement of the club, Orpheus strikes a deal with Hades. The slum lord laughs and strokes his dog’s head as the door closes. The band plays in the distance. Orpheus’ ascending footsteps ring loudly on the metal staircase. Eurydice, on dancers’ feet, moves lightly behind him on. The music grows louder. Orpheus strains to hear Eurydice. They are being watched. He continues, the railing pulsing under his hand. The hot, wet air at the top of the stairs is oppressive. Just beyond the door the band reaches its crescendo. Orpheus calls back to Eurydice. He hears nothing. He looks back.