Tell Me Everything

Chapter 1

Elena

A little boy was building a castle in the park sandbox.

Although his construction crumbled down many times, he didn't give up and started again until it held.

Once he succeeded, his father congratulated him and offered to go for ice cream.

The child and his father walked hand in hand towards the ice cream shop, not a cloud in their sky.

I felt a twinge of sadness at the sight, and couldn't help wondering whether my life would ever regain that carefree spirit that children have.

I climbed into the car and looked out of the window. The weather was mild and sunny for a late September afternoon. Which was surprising, given Belgium's fickle weather.

Mom was tapping away at her steering wheel, impatient as ever.

She had always been a rather nervous person.

“Time is money”, as she so loved to say.

Usually, I didn't like wasting my time either, like being stuck in Brussels traffic jams, for example, but I'd much rather waste my time in traffic than go home.

The place that was supposed to be my home, but was in truth my pandemonium.

Once we returned, hell on earth would start again, as it had for far too long.

And yet, nothing changed. We'd have to put up with my alcoholic father for yet another day.

Another week. Another month. Without ever breaking the pattern.

“How was school?”

“Fine, as always,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the road.

“Good.”

Communicating with my mother wasn't easy.

Although I loved her, we were never on the same wavelength.

She didn't understand me, and I understood her even less.

Sometimes I felt like we were just strangers with familiar faces, not a mother and a daughter.

We hardly spoke at all. In fact, I hardly spoke at all.

Nothing on earth would change if I expressed my feelings.

The more time passed, the more I resented what we were going through. Despite trying to forget what I'd seen in the park, the image of that smiling child was now engraved in my mind. And it made me sad. I had to know.

“Mom, why don't you ask for a divorce?”

I held my breath while she reacted to the grenade I'd just thrown at her. My heart was pounding in my ears.

“What kind of question is that?” she asked, suddenly alarmed.

I let out a breath. I inhaled deeply, trying to put my thoughts together, not quite believing I actually asked that question. Now I had to face up to it and go through with it, didn't I? Oh, Lord...

“Well...” I began, unsure. “Aren't you tired of being treated like trash by a nobody? We'd be so much happier without him.”

On top of that, he didn't participate when it came to paying bills, so he was simply useless. Except for ruining our lives with his negative, aggressive attitude. Might as well put the trash in the garbage can where it belongs.

“Don't talk about your father like that.”

“I don't think of him as my father... I'm sure as soon as we get home, we'll have another tantrum.”

She stopped tapping on her poor steering wheel and checked her nail polish, just so she wouldn't have to look me in the face.

My mother was a weak woman. Was it her nature, or because of her life experience?

I couldn't remember. To be honest, I couldn't think of many happy memories that included my mother.

“I've already tried, you know... But I just can't seem to get away from him. Remember that in a few months you'll be an adult and you'll be able to go to your dance school in Saint Petersburg. You'll be away from him for good.”

If I passed the entrance exams. That was another story.

“What about you?”

“I'll manage...”

Mom parked in front of the ballet conservatory.

She finally turned to me and looked at me with a sad smile.

This was just frustrating me. This conversation had been for nothing.

I grabbed my bag and got out of the car—staying with her in such a small space was stifling.

I had to put on my pointe shoes and get my mind off things.

Several dancers greeted me. My house hadn't been my home in years, but the dance studio was my haven.

Like everyone else, I did my stretching and let myself fall back into a familiar routine.

Dancing was like breathing, and it was only when I danced that I felt alive.

Although I was in my element and had done this choreography hundreds of times, my performance was sloppy.

My movements were less fluid, and I was having trouble keeping up with the rhythm. This didn't go unnoticed by my teacher.

“Elena, focus.”

By the time it was my turn to do a grand jeté, I could feel my balance was off, but it was too late. The moment my foot touched the ground, I collapsed. There was a dull crack, then sharp pain spread through my right knee. The people around me stirred.

“What happened to her leg?”

“Call an ambulance, quick!”

White dots blurred my vision. Someone shook my shoulder, but I couldn't focus on my surroundings. In the blink of an eye, the world was gone.

***

A strange buzzing drew me out of the void.

My consciousness struggled to manifest itself, as if a heavy sleep tried to keep me in its clutches.

The noise seemed to get louder and louder, and the strange lethargy I found myself in finally dissipated.

When I opened my eyes, a powerful LED light blinded me.

I had to blink several times before my vision cleared.

Pain was pounding inside my skull, while my body was still asleep.

It was as if I'd turned into a giant marshmallow. Why couldn't my mind focus?

Mom was sitting next to me, holding my hand, but where was I? Light blue walls, a bed with metal bars, white sheets that looked like they'd been washed a thousand times... The hospital?

I tried to get up fast, but my body was screaming at me not to move. It resisted the slightest movement. My heart missed a beat, and panic rose inside my chest. Mom leapt to her feet to try and hold me back. It was no use; I couldn't get out of that horrible bed. What is happening?

“Calm down, love. You just woke up from surgery.”

Despite all my efforts to concentrate, pain made my head spin. I tried to use my voice several times, without much success. My mouth was as dry as parchment.

“What happened?” I asked hoarsely.

Mom gave me a glass of water and waited for me to finish before speaking. “You fell during dance practice. The impact was brutal, but you were lucky. You only have a few ill effects.”

Why couldn't I remember anything? My mind couldn't pick up the pieces on its own. The sedative in my system prevented me from functioning properly. I fought the drug coursing through my bloodstream and did my best to stay awake. I had to know.

“Ill effects?”

She gave me an apologetic look before lowering her eyes.

No further explanation was needed; I knew what she wanted meant.

I sat down despite my mother's and my limbs' protests.

My right leg was cast in plaster from my toes to the top of my thigh.

It's not possible, it's not possible, it's not possible!

How was I supposed to dance now? How was I going to train for my graduation show or the entrance exams? My panic kept increasing.

“Elena, calm down.”

Just then, Doctor Petit entered the room. His hair had greyed slightly since I'd last seen him, but he still had that warm smile. My anxiety subsided, giving way to the sadness he evoked.

“Elena, it’s been a while.”

Indeed, the last time I'd been in a hospital for myself was because I'd broken my wrist after jumping off a swing.

At that time, it had seemed like a good idea.

Until I hit the ground. All to impress Ella, my cousin.

It was Doctor Petit who had taken care of me.

We'd also met again in the same hospital when Mick, my older brother, had fallen ill. I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about that now.

“Do you have good news?”

The doctor sat down in the chair opposite me. “Don't worry. You have a fractured tibia and a ruptured anterior cruciate ligament, but both are treatable. And your knee operation went very well.”

His smile faltered a little, just enough to bring my anxiety back in full force. I played with the seams of the bed sheet.

“I feel a ‘but’ coming on.”

“More like a ‘however’. However, it was a nasty fall. As you know, healing from a ligament rupture takes time. Physical rehabilitation will take time.”

For a few seconds, I waited. Was that all? I needed more than that.

“Will I still be able to dance?”

Doctor Petit and my mother exchanged a look that didn't bode well.

“Maybe. I can't tell you that just yet. As I said, your operation went well, but I'm not going to hide from you that in rare cases, healing isn't one hundred percent guaranteed.”

A sob formed in my chest. In less than a second, all my dreams and plans for the future had become unattainable, leaving nothing but sadness in their wake. My whole life had gone up in smoke in the blink of an eye.