Chapter Thirty Allegra
Thirty
Allegra
Tech week is always a blur, but this one even more so.
Thank god for Lucy, who, after pestering me for three days straight, finally got the whole story out of me.
She cursed Cord’s name to high heavens, claiming she never liked him anyway and promising to block Noah if he tried to text her again.
I told her that was highly unnecessary and fought the urge to ask her to ask Noah how Cord is doing.
Truthfully, I’m grateful for her vitriolic response to the situation because I don’t have the energy for it myself. It’s time to really focus on this part and on making sure my first leading role isn’t my last.
Lucy keeps me rested and fed, admonishing me for coming to class when I don’t need to, piling my plate high during lunch and dinner breaks.
I’m fitted for my costumes and lighting is designed to best highlight my movements. We rehearse the entire ballet from start to finish without stopping and I survive. David even offers me praise every once in a while, in between all the shouting and demands.
Sam is a good partner and we work well together, and it’s only once a run-through or so that I imagine what it would feel like if Cord were dancing with me instead.
Only in our characters’ most romantic moments do I let myself picture Cord’s blue eyes and all the feelings, the words I never got to say, the emotions I never got to express.
Purely to benefit my performance, of course.
When opening night finally rolls around, I try to treat it like any other day.
I wake up, work out, go to the studio. I stretch and run through my barre exercises.
I practice one part of the ballet that has been giving me trouble and I nail it.
I eat a healthy lunch and find my spot in the dressing room. I do my makeup and slick back my hair.
When flowers arrive for me, I don’t hope they could be from him.
I read the card from my parents and relish the words written in my mom’s flowy script: I’m so proud of you.
It’s not the first time she’s said them, but it does feel like the most important.
We haven’t talked much since the explosive phone call the morning of the video.
Things have mostly just gone back to normal, both of us happy to sweep the whole thing under the rug.
When it’s time to go out to the stage, I don’t try to peek through the curtain to catch a glimpse of the audience. I know my parents are out there, and Bethany and Cassidy. I know Lucy will be beside me onstage. That’s all I allow myself to care about.
I know Cord won’t be there, sitting in the audience, and I don’t bother checking, because I can feel it deep in my bones, this absence of him.
A more romantic person might have imagined Cord rushing onstage with a bouquet of red roses, sweeping me up in his arms and telling me it’s all going to be okay. That he was a fool, that he made a mistake, that of course we can make it work.
I’m not a more romantic person.
Sometimes things just aren’t meant to be.
What is meant to be is this night.
I step out onstage with the lights still dim, the curtain still closed. I take a deep breath and hit my opening pose. And when the curtain rises and the lights find me, I dance better than I ever have in my entire life. I let myself feel every beat of the music, every breath of the steps.
And I don’t need anything else in this moment. I worked for years for this, sacrificed so much of my life for this. And I absorb every single second, imprinting it all on my brain to examine later, because in the moment, all that remains is me and the music.
I leave everything that’s left of me out on that stage.
The curtain comes down after the final beat of the music and the roar of the applause fills the theater, ringing in my ears. Sam sweeps me up in his arms, and, gasping for air, I let myself smile and laugh because holy shit, I did it.
My limbs tingle with excitement and exhaustion as we take our bows and the standing ovation lasts for a lifetime. I find my family in the audience, my mom wiping her tears while Bethany hoots and hollers like she’s at a hockey game and not one of the most prestigious theaters in the world.
I don’t look for Cord because I won’t allow his absence to taint this moment.
David strides onto the stage, looking dapper in his perfectly fitted tuxedo, absorbing his own round of applause with a smarmy smile. He has a microphone in one hand and a bouquet of roses in the other. He hands me the flowers and kisses my cheek before shaking Sam’s hand and taking center stage.
David raises his hand and the applause dies down.
“Thank you so much for being here tonight to celebrate the premiere of my new ballet, La Courtesan.” He pretends to shake off the cheers that follow, but we all know how much he enjoys this part of his job.
“I could not have dreamed of a better leading lady than our very own Allegra Hart.” David gestures for me to join him as the applause rings out once again.
“And I couldn’t think of a better moment to announce her promotion to principal dancer at Ballet New York. ”
I hear the words, I hear the screams, I feel the arms of my company members circling me and hugging me. I know a smile is wide on my face. I know I make eye contact with David and say thank you, though I don’t know if he can hear me.
And still, none of it seems real.
The numbness I’ve blanketed myself in in order to survive the past few weeks isn’t so easy to shake off, and its protection has begun to hinder even my positive emotions.
Until I greet my family in the lobby after changing out of my costume and Bethany screams—a literal scream—before throwing herself into my arms.
“You did it! I’m so fucking proud of you and you fucking did it!” Her grip on my neck is too tight, but I don’t even care.
I let myself sink into her embrace. Once again, it’s the presence of my sister that makes it all real and stirs a flood of emotions.
I don’t hold back the tears, even though I know they’re making a huge mess of my makeup.
They keep flowing as I hug my dad and then my mom, who holds on tight, but doesn’t say anything.
When she finally lets me go, I see her own tears trailing down her cheeks, and I don’t need her words.
We go out to celebrate and I stay out later than I should, but it doesn’t matter because I’m floating on a cloud and I sleep like the dead and wake up the next morning as a principal dancer for Ballet New York.
All my dreams have finally come true.
I wait for dancing the lead role in a new ballet to fill the hole in my heart. But while the Cord-shaped wound scabs over and hardens, it doesn’t close up.
We start rehearsals for our next production, even as La Courtesan continues its run.
I have a solo role in this one, smaller than a principal, but still important.
David tells me to learn the principal role as an understudy, and I take it as a sign of his confidence in me.
He continues to give me instructions and corrections, but he seems about as happy with me as he ever is with anyone.
And I don’t know exactly what it is I’m waiting for. It’s been six weeks since Cord and I had our breakup conversation. I haven’t let myself cry about him, not since that night with Bethany. I try not to let myself think of him, and I mostly succeed.
It isn’t until I climb into bed each night, exhausted from hours of rehearsals and classes and performances, that his face occupies my mind. I dream about him often.
Only once do I pick up the phone, think about reaching out. But he made his wishes clear and I refuse to leave my happiness in someone else’s hands again.