7. Break a Leg #3
I quickly shake my head, “No, no, I’m actually about to call my ride.” I dig my phone out from the side pocket of my bag. “Thank you for offering though.” I grin.
“Not a problem, love. If you need me you know where to find me.”
I nod, pulling up Scarlett’s contact. “Thanks, again.”
“I hope to see you again,” she says earnestly.
I give her one last smile, and she turns back to her work, typing away on the computer and scribbling down notes. She’s completely engrossed in her task—like she loves what she’s doing. Not even I enjoy doing that at Forma, at least not as much as she seems to enjoy doing it now.
I press ‘call’ on Scarlett’s contact and let her know I’m done with my audition. Thankfully, she’s at a nearby coffee shop and will be here soon. I’m not sure how long I can sit still; part of me wants to march right back into that studio and beg on my knees to be given the position.
I sit down on an outside bench near a poster of a girl caught in a perfect grand jeté.
My mind mulls over everything that just happened—the wild and quite frankly, overwhelming conversation with Lily, the way I danced the variation I chose.
Were my feet in the correct place? Were my port de bras harmonious enough?
Was my back as straight as it could be? Did I choose the right variation?
Granted, I only had a few to choose from. Then my thoughts unbiddenly go to Nik.
The way his crystal-blue eyes lingered on me sent chills down my spine.
When I auditioned in front of Soren, he spoke to everyone. You couldn’t get that man to shut up if you asked politely. But Nik, he’d barely said a few words to me, and if I thought about it any longer, it might drive me crazy.
I palm my face with both hands. Get a grip, Eleanor.
Two car honks come from the parking lot, pulling me from my thoughts. I sit up, looking for the source of the sound. Across from me, Scarlett’s car window is rolled down. “Are you ready?” she calls. She lifts her right hand, holding a steaming cup. “I got your favorite.” She beams.
I stand from the bench so fast I almost trip on the strap of my dance bag. “Coming!” I call, slinging it over my shoulder and practically running down the steps. I drop my bag safely in the backseat, then slide into the front.
Scarlett hands me the steaming cup. “I found the cutest coffee shop called Pot & Kettle. They have literal tea cups hanging from the ceiling like lampshades.” She takes a sip and grins. “Oh—almost forgot—how did it go?”
“I think it went fine.” I take a small sip from the styrofoam cup. Black coffee and—oh no—cream. I forcefully swallow the liquid, and try not to freak out. It’s just a small sip of cream. Everything will be fine. I’ll go on a run later tonight or maybe I’ll skip breakfast in the morning.
“Eleanor, did you hear me? Are you okay?” Scarlett’s eyebrow rises, her voice laced with concern.
I place the cup in the cupholder next to me. “Yeah, sorry, I got lost there for a minute. What were you saying?” I pull my shrug down so it covers my hands. The last thing I need is to unintentionally take another sip of that coffee.
“You turned as white as a ghost.” She averts her eyes back to the road. “Is it the coffee? Because I was sure you loved black coffee with lots of crea—”
“Oh no, no, no. Not that. Thank you for the coffee. I’m just tired. I’ve been up since four-thirty this morning.” The last thing I want to do was explain why I can no longer consume dairy.
Her brows knit with concern, but she doesn’t press the issue. “Um, yeah, okay. I was just asking you why you thought it only went ‘fine.’” She makes quotations with her right hand, keeping her left firmly on the wheel.
I let out a small sigh, thankful she lets my bizarre behavior go.
“Well, the panel was smaller than I’m used to.
Only the director, choreographer, and principal coach were there.
” We stop at a red light allowing Scarlett to give me her full attention.
“The director also let me pick my own variation and told me after I was finished that the choreographer may give me something else to perform.”
Scarlett stays quiet, listening.
“After I was done, they… they didn’t want to see anything else,” I continue. “I mean, why bring it up, and then not pick out another variation for me to dance, ya know?” I shrug, glancing out of the window. “I guess I’m just feeling confused.”
The light turns green, and Scarlett remains silent until we get onto the freeway. “I think they didn’t have you perform another variation because maybe your first was one enough.” She flicks on her indicator and changes lanes.
My eyebrows scrunch together. “What do you mean?” I ask, looking over in her direction.
Traffic is busy at this time of day. Horns blare, cabs swerve without warning, and delivery trucks exhale thick black smoke into the air.
She keeps her eyes locked on the road. “Exactly what I said. They probably liked your variation so much they didn’t need to see anything else.
” She takes a sip from her steaming cup.
“From what I remember at your recitals, the lead often got chosen by performing just one perfect dance. Maybe you did that.”
She presses the brake, and I jolt forward in my seat. Of course it’s a cab that cuts us off. I really can’t wait to be back on solid ground.
“So that means that whatever you did in there, was good enough to impress them.” She continues, totally unfazed by the cab that just nearly killed us.
I sit back in my seat, and contemplate her words.
She may be right. Maybe they enjoyed my variation so much that they didn’t even need to think about it.
The only thing that threw me off though, was their expressions.
I didn’t expect a standing ovation, but I thought I would’ve seen maybe one glimpse of a smile.
I guess they’re old men who have been doing this for a long time—well two of the three.
Maybe I’m just thinking too hard about it.
“You know…” I fold my arms across my chest. “Maybe you’re right.”
Scarlett lets out a quiet chuckle. “Well, there’s a first for everything.”
I playfully smack her bicep, “Oh, be quiet.” A small laugh escapes me.
We sit in a comfortable silence for the rest of the drive.
Every once in a while, I pretend to drink the coffee so it doesn’t look like I’m not appreciative.
A few almost-fender-benders later, she pulls up to the front of my apartment, and I about weep with relief. New York traffic isn’t for the weak.
I thank Scarlett for the ride, grab my bag from the backseat, and make my way to my apartment.
Stepping across the threshold, I throw my bag on the couch, and pad over to the bathroom to start my bath.
When the water reaches the right temperature, I pour in my favorite jasmine scented bubble bath and undress.
I step in, the water covering me like a warm blanket.
I rest my head against the porcelain tub, watching the steam curl through the air around me.
I try to quiet my thoughts from today, but as usual, my mind refuses to rest. I can’t stop replaying the cream in the coffee, the variation, and my conversation with Scarlett.
I sink deeper into the water. Wherever my thoughts wander tonight, I make sure they don’t drown me.