Chapter Thirty-Two Allegra
Thirty-Two
Allegra
Only one weekend remains of La Courtesan and it’s hard to believe after all the work we put in, the whole thing is almost over.
I’ll be sad to say goodbye to the show, the role that changed my whole life.
But I’m looking forward to what comes next.
Maybe there’s a small part of me that thinks that leaving behind this role, this last remaining connection to Cord, will help me fully move on.
My mom insists on meeting me for breakfast on Friday morning, with our final show scheduled for the following night.
I don’t want to go, but I’ve been successfully avoiding her for a while—and at least I know she won’t badger me too much with a show to prepare for or offer me guilt-ridden money now that I’ve earned a raise along with my promotion.
So I meet her at a café near my apartment.
She’s there when I arrive, a mug of black coffee already sitting on the table.
She stands to hug me and I let myself lean into it.
My mother isn’t exactly known for being comforting, but still, the smell of her expensive perfume brings back memories of my childhood, most of them good.
I order a hot tea and an egg white omelet. I ask for the potatoes instead of the fruit cup and my mom raises her eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.
She orders a bowl of fruit and hands the menu to the server, dismissing him without using words. Then she turns her attention to me, a small smile on her pale-pink-painted lips. “How are you feeling about the close of the show?”
I fiddle with the string of my tea bag. “Sad, of course. It’s always a little sad when a show closes. But I’m excited to see what comes next.”
“Has David mentioned when you’ll get your next principal role?”
I shake my head. “He hasn’t announced anything for the rest of the season yet, but I’m sure I’ll get some good parts.”
Her head tilts to the side as she studies me. “And yet, you don’t seem very happy, Allegra. You’ve finally achieved everything we’ve ever wanted, and yet, you don’t seem happy.”
“I am happy,” I insist, and it’s not a total lie. I’m not unhappy, at least.
She sips from her mug. “Bethany told me a little bit more about what happened with that boy.”
I make a mental note to kill my sister, but for now I focus my ire on my mother. “His name is Cord.”
“Right. Cord.” She folds the corner of her linen napkin, then unfolds it, then folds it again. “I really am sorry that things didn’t work out between you.”
I snort. “No, you’re not.”
She sighs. “All right, maybe I’m not sorry, exactly. I do think that now more than ever is the time to put all your focus where it belongs—on ballet.” As if I could ever misconstrue her words.
“I am focused on ballet, Mom.”
“But you miss him.”
I shrug, letting my eyes roam around the café so they don’t have to meet hers. “I mean, sure, I do. But that doesn’t change anything. I’m not giving up ballet for a man.” I don’t mean the words to pack a punch, but from the look on her face, they hit her right in the gut.
My mom takes a deep breath. “I know you probably think that I pushed you so hard in ballet because I regretted my own choices, the ones that led me to give up dance when I met your father.”
I don’t think, I know. But I don’t voice the thought, instead staying silent and letting her continue.
“But that’s not the whole story, Allegra. The truth is that I stopped dancing because I wasn’t good enough.”
I study her face as she tells me something she’s never told me before. The lines around her eyes are slight, even less prominent on her forehead thanks to her regularly scheduled Botox appointments. But the tension is visible, even with her surgical perfection.
“I danced for so many years, and I worked so hard. But I didn’t have the natural talent that you do.
It didn’t matter how hard I worked, it couldn’t change the fact that I didn’t have the innate ability needed in order to move out of the corps.
And I wanted it, desperately. I was so jealous of the girls in my company who made it look so easy. ”
“It’s not easy for anyone.” Even the most naturally gifted dancers still have to work their asses off.
“I know that now, and I knew it then too. But still, when I met your father, it felt like an out. It felt like an opportunity to quit with some amount of grace, and an excuse no one could really blame me for. Who wouldn’t give up their job for a chance at true love?”
I suck in a breath. I don’t think she meant that to be a pointed hit, but it sure feels like one. “Why are you telling me this now?”
She reaches across the table and pats my hand. “I want you to have everything you ever wanted, Allegra. Not just in ballet, but in life.”
“So now you want me to get back together with him?”
“Would that make you happy?”
I swallow the last of my tea; it’s turned lukewarm and bitter. “I don’t know if a reconciliation is even possible, Mom.”
She shrugs her shoulder and leans back in her seat so the server can deliver our breakfasts. “You’ve accomplished everything in life you’ve set your mind to, Allegra. If you want it, want him, you’ll find a way to make it happen.”
I spend the hours before our Friday-night performance like I always do: stretching, applying my makeup, fixing my hair, readying my shoes. But I can’t get my conversation with my mother out of my head the entire time.
The notion of “we just want you to be happy” has always felt like a foreign one. Because what does that even mean? How do you know when you’re really truly happy?
And isn’t that something that I should be able to identify?
There’s no question in my mind that being onstage makes me happy. Yes, it comes at a cost, but the way my heart soars when I’m leaping through the air…that has to be true happiness.
But what about those moments with Cord? The soft kisses and the way his hand spanned my back when we danced together? Being with Cord made me feel just as weightless as being onstage.
Do I need both to achieve this much-sought-after true happiness? And what does it mean for me that I can’t? Am I doomed to this half life forever?
There’s a knock on my dressing room door as I’m doing my final makeup touch-ups and for a second, I let myself think that it might be him. Maybe I can have both love and ballet.
But it isn’t Cord who sticks his head through the door. It’s David. He grins when he sees me sitting in front of the mirror, stepping into the small space and closing the door before I have a chance to respond. His hands land on my upper back and he squeezes gently. “You look marvelous, Allegra.”
“Thank you.” I smile at him in the reflection, but my mouth is tight.
“I just wanted to stop by tonight because I know tomorrow night will be chaotic with all of the show-closing hullaballoo.” He doesn’t remove his hands, moving them so they cup my shoulders.
“You’ve exceeded my expectations, Allegra.
Truly, when I envisioned this part, I didn’t know that anyone would be able to dance it the way I wanted, but you have made this role and this performance your own. ”
My smile softens, turning genuine at his praise. “Thank you, David. That means a lot. I really appreciate you giving me this opportunity.”
“You earned it.” He leans down a little, his breath searing my neck. “And I must say, I admire your dedication to the show, and to the company. I hope you see now that I was right to tell you to stay away from that stripper. It allowed you to dance to your full potential.”
My stomach turns. Of course he would chalk up my performance to something he did.
I pull my shoulders back, shrugging away his grip. “That had nothing to do with my performance. I’m dancing well because I worked hard, not because of any inappropriate demands you made.”
Shock crosses his face for a fleeting second before he hardens his gaze. “It is not inappropriate for me to ensure my dancers follow the rules set out in their contracts.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a bullshit rule if you ask me.” I pick up my scarlet lipstick, swiping it slowly and carefully over my bottom lip, taking deep breaths to still my trembling hands. I can’t believe I just said that to my director, the man who holds my entire career in his grip.
I wait for the explosion of anger from him, but it doesn’t come.
Instead, David studies me with his head tilted to the side. “I like seeing this fire in you. Nothing is more important in ballet than passion.”
My mouth drops open, but I cover the shock by blotting my lipstick with a tissue. “I agree.” I should take this opportunity to tell him that if I want to date Cord, I will. But it’s a moot point when I remember that Cord no longer wants to date me.
“I’ll see you out there.” David offers me a final smirk before letting himself out the door and closing it behind him.
I slick on another coat of red lipstick before heading out to the stage.
The closing performance of La Courtesan is bittersweet. On the surface, it’s a night just like hundreds of others I’ve had before it. I prepare for this show the same way I have for every ballet I’ve danced with BNY over the course of my career.
But there’s a different charge of electricity in the air when the curtain rises and the lights brighten.
This is likely the last time I’ll ever dance this part, this part that will forever be linked to my name.
And so I make a point to enjoy every second of it.
To flash Sam plenty of coy smiles and inject a little more swivel into each twirl of my hips.
It’s the most fun I’ve ever had onstage. And when the lights dim after not one but two standing ovations, the mood backstage is nothing but celebratory.
Tomorrow, we will all take the morning off and let ourselves sleep in. I’m looking forward to the much-needed rest, but tonight I’m looking forward to sharing the bliss with my company members.