21. Jolie
21
JOLIE
M y tights, leotard, and hair were all uncomfortable, as if too tight for my body, and no matter how well I did in class or rehearsal, nothing felt right.
Mistress Maral even highlighted me to demonstrate the adagio combination in front of the class. Normally, that would’ve had me grinning from ear to ear.
Not today.
It’s the anniversary of the accident. One year since I saw my mom.
Today, ballet was a chilling reminder of all I’ve lost. It seems unfair to dance, leap, and spin without her here. But I know that’s not what she would’ve wanted for me. Always my biggest fan. So, today I danced for my mother. In a way, I’ve danced for her every day since I walked through Ballet Potomac’s doors.
“She’d be so proud,” Lark reminds me back at the apartment after we’ve both showered and rinsed off a long day of dancing. I know she’s trying to comfort me, but it doesn’t lessen the ache sinking heavy in my chest. Pizza sits on the counter, chicken with peppers and mushrooms. A favorite that my mom and I used to split every Friday night.
I grab the movies I’d set aside, ones we’d loved to watch together, and Delilah picks out Center Stage , popping it into the DVD player. By about halfway through, Lark’s snores echo in the background. It doesn’t surprise me. She has to be exhausted from the grueling days of rehearsals. This week involves lots of late nights in preparation for the pre-performance showcase for the Institute’s patrons, a way to get more money out of the benefactors and an exclusive opportunity for newspapers and magazine reviewers to preview the Institute’s show and get the word out before opening night. Despite the fact that she can’t hang through the entire movie, it means a lot that the two of them carved out time to spend with me.
When the credits roll, I wave goodnight to Delilah who’s guiding a half-asleep Lark into her room. There’s still one more movie set aside, and since I’m still emotionally wired from the day, I grab it and head toward my room.
With each step, my lip wobbles. Tears rim my eyes. As soon as I’m in my room, I plop on the bed and pull up my phone, listening to the last voice message Mom left me. One I can’t bring myself to erase. She’d asked me to call her back when I was done with rehearsals, asking if I wanted to go out for brunch on Sunday. There’s nothing profound tucked within her words, but the comfort of her voice makes it one of my most treasured possessions. Luckily, my voice messages saved to the cloud, otherwise it would have been lost along with my phone at the bottom of that lake.
By the time I replay the message a third time, tears are streaming down my cheeks. My hand shakes as I push the disc into the tiny TV in my room, one with a built-in DVD player, then climb into bed. Reaching over to grab the remote from the nightstand, I glance at the mostly empty bed and bite my lip.
I could text Blake. Rehearsals are done for the day, unless he stayed even later to rehearse the pas de deux with Nina. With stepping into her first role as a principal, I could see being easily overwhelmed. Soloist life was hard enough, and each promotion came with its own set of sacrifices. It was the price of greatness. A trade every ballerina would make with a smile on their face and bloody blisters beneath their tights.
I haven’t heard from him since he ran out of my room. He knows what today is and hasn’t bothered to text or call me, but I’m not sure I can hold it against him. Time and routines are thrown off during dress rehearsal week. Regardless, I still thought I’d hear something . It’s disappointing, but I’m also grateful not to have to talk about his awkward and terrifying send-off. I have no idea how I’ll play off the fact that there was a giant wolf in my bedroom. Guess I’ll find out when I see him after the showcase.
I glance down, finding my hand hovering over the scar— mark —between my breasts.
Jax did say that if I called to him, he’d come.
What the heck am I doing? I’m pretty sure summoning otherworldly beings to your bedroom is the stuff of horror movies.
I drop my hand into my lap, then snatch the remote and press Play.
Now that the house is quiet and I’m shrouded in darkness—aside from the light coming from the TV—the loneliness brings an unsettling level of silence. I could ask Lark to stay in the room with me, but Delilah’s here… Plus, she’s so busy with rehearsals, I wouldn’t want to wake her up just to keep me company. Not that I haven’t done that plenty of times. After the accident, she’d insisted on staying with me for weeks.
It’s taken me so long to put myself back together and I don’t want her pity, another acknowledgment of how broken I still am. She knows. I need to pretend I’m okay, even if I’m far from it. There’s something about other people seeing the ugly shards of my losses that makes me feel like I’ll shatter beyond repair.
Knowing Lark, she’d just help me collect the pieces.
Picking up the remote, I pause the movie. An unfamiliar resolve strums through me, and my hand slides under my shirt. The pads of my fingers run over the delicate yet rough mark.
Am I really doing this? Do I want him to come here?
I inhale deeply, stomach clenching. Who knows if this will even work?
“Jax.” I exhale his name in one breath.
I brace myself for a giant wolf to appear, half wondering if I’ve truly gone off my rocker. How else can I explain any of this? The wolf with glittering eyes, the dreams, the messages? But just because it’s beyond explanation doesn’t mean it isn’t real. That he isn’t real.
It’s almost imperceptible, but a chill breezes beneath my palm, as if coming from the mark. He hasn’t said how immediate he’ll be able to answer my summoning. It could be minutes or hours, maybe even days. I grip the remote in my hand again—
“Tempest.”
My chest unclenches as Jax’s silvery wolf steps into view, breaths misting the air that flurries with tiny flakes. The room cools with his presence. The thermostat does its usual dip. He springs from the floor and joins me over the comforter, the bed wobbling with the weight of him. He lies down, tilting his ear to the side to look up at me. “You’re crying.”
“Tough day,” I say between sniffles. “It’s the anniversary—”
“Of the accident.” His deep voice soothes me, despite it coming from a ginormous wolf that could easily fit my head in its mouth. I’m still adjusting to the idea that he’s just chilling on my bed with me. “I know.”
Of course he does. He was there, after all.
“I miss her.” Tucking my hand into my Tempest sweatshirt, I wipe away my tears on the sleeve. The slips of white begin to slow as I catch my breath. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“You were mortal before…” His furry brows lift a fraction, as if surprised, then he pushes up to his hind legs so our faces are level. “Do you ever miss them—your family?”
“It was a long time ago. I don’t even know exactly how many seasons have passed.” His snout drops, voice etched in sorrow. “I struggled at first. Over time, the pain has remained, though the specifics have faded.”
I stare down at my fingers in my lap, fidgeting with them. “Oh.”
Silver and white sweeps under my chin, Jax’s cheek resting at the base of my throat. I hug around him, running my fingers through his soft fur. “Even so, I’ll never forget my mother’s smile. My brother’s laugh. The taste of cocoa while my father told tall tales.” His body vibrates against me as he purrs, and a few of my stray tears soak into his coat. “Some things are too imprinted to ever disappear, no matter how much time passes.”
Every day Mom is gone, she slips farther from my grasp. Dancing has helped me feel closer to her, one of the few things in my control that I can hold on to.
“Do you think she could be like you?”
“A harbinger?” His body stills beneath me. “I don’t know. Usually they are those who haven’t lived full lives, assigned to live out immortality where it suits them best. I can try to find out, though we don’t tend to interact much with the other paths or seasons.”
“You don’t need to do that…just curious, I guess.” My hands graze his ribs and his heartbeat is oddly in sync with my own, as if it’s amplifying it. When the pulse quickens between us, I release my hold.
Jax shakes out his fur and turns toward the small television, sitting next to me. “What are you watching?”
“ The Turning Point .” I hold up the DVD case for him, flipping it over to show him the back. “Have you heard of it?”
“I haven’t,” he replies, shaking his snout side to side. “What’s it about?”
“A young ballerina, her mother who was a former dancer, and her best friend. The choices they’ve made along the way. The paths they take or could have taken. My mom loved it. Figured I’d watch a few of our dance favorites tonight.”
“Want some company?”
“Sure,” I squeak out, a bit surprised that he seems genuinely intrigued. “That’d be great.”
The next few hours we sit in silence together. Time slips by in a blur, and before I know it, the closing credits roll with Leslie Browne performing under the hazy glow of spotlights. I glance over at Jax. He’s still watching, head resting atop his paws. I wonder what he’s thinking.
“Why are you here, Jax?”
“Because you wanted me to come.”
My hand lifts to cover my sternum, and he arches a furry brow. “If I pressed on this mark and called to someone else, would they hear it?”
“No.” His voice is firm.
“Why? What does it mean?”
He sits up, snout almost touching my nose as I tuck my knees under myself. “It means we’re important to each other.” His voice is pure gravel, and my fingernails pinch my thighs. “That’s all that matters right now. You are important to me, so if you need me, I will be here.”
Silence washes over the room. Somehow, his declaration sinks deeper than his carefully chosen words. There’s more to it, I’m certain, but he won’t tell me. It doesn’t stop me from asking more questions, though. “But I won’t be able to call you after winter’s over?”
“I might hear you,” he says, voice lowering along with his snout, “but I won’t be able to come.”
“Why not?”
“For starters, our connection is…rare. I’m also limited where I’m permitted to travel during my earthside winters. Otherwise, I’m stuck in Nivea and cannot leave.”
“I see.” I think about it a moment, trying to figure out what he means by connection . “Does it have to do with when you saved my life? The night of the accident?”
“It does.” Everything he says is handpicked before he parcels it out.
I’m not sure I’m ready for the full answers he has to give. My emotions are already jumbled up tonight. But I don’t want to always be left in the dark. “Will you ever explain it all to me?”
“Someday. I just don’t want to overwhelm you.” There’s a refreshing sincerity to his words, and his silver-and-blue stare gives me some quiet reassurance.
It’s understandable, considering how crazy I thought I was when I started sensing and seeing him. “Will I ever get to see you outside of your wolf form?”
“I hope so.” He settles onto the bed, resting his head between his paws. “I didn’t know if you’d ever hear me and you made that happen.”
“I did?” My curiosity piques. “How?”
“You believed you could.”
“So all I need to do is believe?”
“You make that sound easy, but look at how you took my first message and all the times you still doubt yourself.”
It’s true. First, I thought he was a ghost, then a figment of my imagination. Some moments I still question my sanity, even as he sits here now. I reach out and stroke the silver swirl of fur on his forehead, then scratch behind his ears.
“Can I try to see you?” I have no clue how to make him appear, but I want to. As comforting as his wolfish form is, I’m curious what lies beneath.
“Right now?”
“Yes. Go into your other form,” I insist, nodding toward the space between us and the window.
He pounces off the bed, nails never scratching the floor before he disappears. I sit in the darkness, squinting into the space where he was. Reaching over, I flip on my bedside lamp, hoping to see a sign of him.
“Anything?” his voice whispers, snowflakes flitting in front of me for emphasis. He’s right there. Not even two feet away.
“No.” My gut sinks.
“It’s okay. It’s a lot to take in. I’m just glad we even have this,” Jax reassures, still invisible. I can’t explain it, but when he says we , it fills a hollow space within me. His tone brightens a smidge. “I really enjoyed getting a peek into your world tonight, Tempest.”
Is this his way of saying he’s leaving soon? I need more time. “Will you stay again?”
I stare into the silence, wondering if he’s already left. The room’s still cold, but there are no flecks of white, no wolf appearing before me.
“Is that what you want?”
“It is.” I nod for emphasis.
“Then of course.” Relief washes through me at his certainty. “Should I shift back?”
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
Getting ready for bed as quickly as I can, I tuck myself under my covers. Even though I can’t see him—the comforting chill that curls around my body tells me all I need to know.
He’s here.