Chapter 17
Seventeen
Sickle: a poorly positioned foot that turns inward, creating a sickle or half-moon shape rather than a fully pointed foot. Often stems from trying to point the foot too hard, causing the ankle to sickle, and can lead to injury.
Alexander
The hyperfocused zone I usually slipped into on performance weekends eluded me all Saturday.
I was restless, vibrating with energy beyond anticipation for the next show.
Friday had been much too busy to squeeze in a round of the game with Rudy, and I strangely missed him despite our frequent passing in the corridors of the theater.
I had no business pining for him. I had a return ticket to Seattle for January third. Onward with my comeback!
Yet my weird mood persisted even as the object of my ruminating bounced into the alcove I’d claimed for my late lunch between shows.
“We have a crisis.” Rudy waved his clipboard for emphasis. Tavio might be the director and Irina his right hand, but Rudy was the one who’d kept the show running smoothly, saving the day over and over with his quick thinking.
His auburn hair stuck up at odd angles, and his eyes were almost wider than his glasses frames. I, however, had faith in his ability to remedy whatever the crisis was. Further, I had a decent idea as to what the matter might be.
“Cheryl is sick?”
“How did you guess?” Some of his frantic energy draining away, Rudy sank onto the folding chair next to me.
He wore one of his nicer sweaters over a dress shirt, the green of the sweater making golden flecks come alive in his eyes.
I was in my warm-ups since I didn’t need to be in costume again for several hours, and my lucky sweatshirt with a fraying cuff from a decade prior felt a bit shabby next to his professional attire.
“We had enough rehearsal time that I could tell she was off her game at the matinee.” The company dancer was a professional to her core, so she’d worked hard to cover whatever ailed her, but one couldn’t lie as easily to a partner.
She’d been tight the entire pas de deux, gritting out each movement with none of her typical ease.
“Also, anyone could see she was looking more than a little green.”
“Yes, well, green has turned into pale and dehydrated. Food poisoning, she thinks, which is good because the last thing we need is illness spreading.” Rudy thumped his head against the wall behind us. “Irina is trying to convince her to go to the ER for fluids, but no way can she go on tonight.”
Touching him grew more dangerous by the day, yet I couldn’t keep from patting his thigh. Attraction aside, my friend was distraught, and I wanted to offer what comfort I could.
“Have you called Victoria yet?” I asked.
“Yes, she went to lunch, but she was on her way back for the evening show.” Rudy exhaled hard.
For the public shows, the plan had been for Victoria to dance other parts, allowing Cheryl to assume the Sugar Plum Fairy role, but now Victoria’s own understudies would undoubtedly be summoned.
“She’s nervous, of course, but she did fabulous for the school show yesterday.
We have to hope she can do the part again under the brighter lights tonight. ”
My back muscles felt not unlike a tutu—quilted together into an unnatural stiffness. I preferred not to think about the school show. I pursed my lips.
“Yes, that was quite the success for everyone.”
“What do you mean?” Setting aside his clipboard, Rudy turned in his chair so he could better peer at me.
“That teacher seems rather taken with you.” There was no point in either of us playing dumb. My inability to cover my reaction was enough of a tell, as was Rudy’s intent expression.
“He asked me for coffee.” Rudy’s voice took on a confessional edge.
“Ah. That’s what he wants you to think about.
” I’d suspected as much. No way was I going to admit that I’d wasted precious sleep time last night mulling over the snippet of interaction I’d witnessed.
Enough to tell Mr. Davis had a crush on Rudy.
And who could blame the guy? Rudy was smart, kind, good with all the kids, and cute.
Of course Mr. Davis had made a play. “Are you going to go?”
“Should I?” Rudy’s stare turned more pointed.
“Why are you asking me?” If he could ask hard questions, so could I, but I regretted the retort as soon as Rudy raised his eyebrows.
“Because you look like you just smelled some rotten garbage, and you keep clenching your fists like you have an opinion.”
“I shouldn’t.” I stared down at my hand rather than meet his gaze.
“But you do.” Rudy leaned in, shoulder brushing mine. “Ask me to say no, Alexander.”
“I can’t be what you need.” If I turned my head, we’d be face-to-face, a millimeter from kissing, which was a wonderfully terrible prospect that kept me flexing and turning my hands.
“You could try asking me what I need instead of assuming.” Rudy was so close that his breath wafted across my cheek.
I had stacks of ballet reviews praising my body control and poise, my ability to make each small muscle do my bidding at exactly the right moment.
Despite all that mastery, my head acted of its own accord, tilting toward Rudy.
The small movement was apparently precisely what he’d been waiting for as he brushed a tentative kiss across my lips.
And rather than pull away, I kissed him back with nearly three weeks of longing.
The time since Thanksgiving week seemed eons long, yet not nearly enough time to forget the softness of his lips or the sweetness of his little gasp.
“Oh! Oops.” Victoria made a high-pitched startled noise that would be comical under other circumstances.
Luckily, she was alone without her watchful mother or, worse, Tavio or Irina to witness my lapse in judgment.
Victoria went up on the balls of her feet as if to pirouette away. “I can…uh…come back in a few.”
“No, you’re fine.” I waved a hand as if that could make the kiss disappear. “We’re done.”
“For now.” Rudy shot me an ominous glare before turning his attention to Victoria. “Glad you made it back. Your readiness to go on is the only thing keeping this show together.”
In actuality, Rudy was the thing keeping the show together, but I kept the praise to myself as Victoria gave a nervous twitter.
“Miss Margie said the show is sold out.” Victoria’s eyes cast about like a sailboat searching for a landing spot.
“It is.” Rudy gave her the sort of encouraging smile he was so good at. “The TV segment seems to have done the trick for ticket sales along with a little luck.”
“Okay.” Victoria sucked in a breath, air whistling between her clenched teeth before she made a visible effort to settle herself. She rolled her shoulders up and back, neck elongating into a posture worthy of the Sugar Plum Fairy. “Okay. I can do this.”
“You can.” Rudy stood so he could give her a quick brotherly sort of one-armed hug. “You’ve got this. Merde. Let me know if either of you needs anything else.”
And with that, he was gone. Him. I needed him, not that I’d ever admit it.
I took my own deep breath as Tavio, Irina, and Victoria’s mother all descended upon us to go over the changes.
Double performance days like this were exhausting, made more so by the cast change and Victoria wanting some additional rehearsal to center herself back into the role.
Tavio allowed her to go over a few of the lifts and pirouettes, but like me, he was trying to prevent Victoria from overthinking her readiness.
Despite many reassurances, though, she still seemed frazzled as the curtain lifted on the evening performance.
My own anticipation rose as the opening overture sounded.
Ordinarily, I’d turn inward as I awaited my second act entrance.
I preferred to keep loose away from others, listening to my headphones, running through my variations in my head, letting go of all distractions, including those from other dancers and production people.
Tonight, however, Victoria required my attention.
I stamped down any niggling irritation at the interruption of my routine, trying instead to channel Rudy’s encouraging ways.
Our pas de deux would go far smoother if Victoria would settle her nerves.
She did well to welcome Clara to the Land of the Sweets to start Act Two, but when she returned to wait backstage with me, she flitted about from foot to foot like a strong draft might knock her over.
“What if I’m too tired?” Victoria fretted in a whisper.
She’d danced the school show yesterday, danced a different role in the matinee today, and rehearsed with me.
Indeed, weary circles bracketed her brown eyes.
Onstage, the Waltz of the Flowers started, the familiar polka of oom pah pah, oom pah pah, du nu-nu nuuuu, nu-nu filtering back to where we stood.
“Then you lean into the exhaustion.” I put my decades’ worth of experience into the advice. “You’ll dance your best when you’re tired. You’re really warmed up. Your muscles are loose. Your body knows what to do.”
“Yeah.” Victoria’s agreement didn’t sound at all certain. “The sold-out theater is freaking me out a little. I can feel the energy all packed in.”
When we performed on stage, the bright lights made it so we didn’t see the audience.
Like Victoria, I might sense an energy, but beyond the lights lay a wall of darkness.
New performers often found the darkness disconcerting while seasoned ones knew how to capitalize on it.
For myself, there was nothing quite like the rush of projecting my every movement into the darkness beyond the stage.
I wiggled my jaw from side to side, searching for the right words.
“Use the energy. Push forward into the darkness. Approach each step like it’s the only step the audience will see all night.
” I summoned the same advice Tavio had given me years prior, likely the same advice he himself had received as a student.
“Every single moment is the only moment that matters. Stay in that moment. And point your toes.”
“One moment at a time. I can do that.” Victoria set her shoulders as Waltz of the Flowers approached its conclusion. Wardrobe helpers rushed forward to take our warm-ups and give last-minute attention to our costumes, which included a whispered “Merde” from Kitty.
“I believe in you,” Kitty added to Victoria.
And apparently, that was what she had needed to hear all along because Victoria rose up, going from resolute to ethereal, embodying the role in a way she hadn’t before.
As we entered for our pas de deux, she was regal as any large ballet company principal dancer.
I sensed a shift in the energy, the audience completely captivated.
We began in the adagio section where we danced together, and I built upon Victoria’s presence, my own movements rising to the occasion, no room at all for the doubts of the past few months.
The indescribable rush of knowing I was dancing at my best carried me through my solo.
Pounding adrenaline made it hard to catch my breath during Victoria’s solo, but I needed every molecule of oxygen for the coda where we danced together again.
Faster now, each lift higher, each pirouette bigger and faster, momentum building for the finale.
And then the audience erupted into applause, piercing that wall of darkness, confirming we had, in fact, triumphed.
As we prepared for curtain calls, I glanced at Victoria, a curious pride filling my chest. First Rudy, now her.
I wasn’t used to carrying so much concern for others’ successes, but my eyes burned and my throat was tight.
Victoria’s magnificent performance was a testament not only to her talent but to her sheer force of will to beat those nerves into submission.
She shone so brightly now that few would guess the toll the day had taken on her.
“I want to bottle this moment up,” she said breathlessly as we walked back out for our bows.
“I know, but trust me, you’ll have plenty of other curtain calls.” My tone was both fond and confident. We’d all witnessed the birth of a star, and she deserved every round of applause and cheer, to the point that Tavio sent her back out a second time when the audience stayed loud.
As always, the second the curtain fell for good and the production wrapped for the evening, I flopped onto my dressing room chair, all the adrenaline replaced by bone-deep exhaustion, the sort where even peeling off my costume required more energy than I had.
I took my time getting changed, and many of the performers and crew had already departed when Rudy poked his head in the dressing room door.
“Whoa. You look like one of those giant candy set pieces slammed into you.”
“I’m so tired.” I could be pitiful with him in a way I couldn’t with many. “Everything hurts. And somehow I have to do it all again tomorrow for the final matinee.”
“I know.” Rudy came into the room to lay a hand on my shoulder, a surprisingly firm grip. “I came to see if you needed ice or if you were hungry? How can I help?”
He already was, simply by being here, and his gentle shoulder massage was going to be my undoing.
“No ice, but I’m starving. However, if I have to make even one more decision, I might expire from the effort.”
“I understand.” His tone was comforting beyond measure. “Let me take care of you?”
“Yes,” I said simply, possibly the most foolhardy syllable I’d ever uttered. More time alone, especially with me in this unguarded state, was dangerous, yet I was powerless to do anything other than nod weakly. “Thank you.”