Page 38 of On Dancer
We parked in the back lot of the ballet school and entered the theater across the street separately, but covert spies we were not.
“You were early today.” Tavio’s knowing tone had me on edge as soon as he entered my dressing room a short while later.
“You’d prefer late?” I gave him my haughtiest stare, the sort of thing I’d use on stage to convey aristocratic disdain. I wasn’t in the mood for teasing, whether from him or anyone else. This thing with Rudy was too new, too fragile, too precious to share.
“Of course not.” Tavio didn’t let me off that easily, though, as he added a wink and a waggle of his bushy eyebrows. “And naturally, my lips are sealed as to your carpool arrangements, but I do hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Me too.” My voice was terse. I had no clue what I was doing. Rudy was too young, too tied to this area, too innocent, and too damn sweet for me. Yet I was powerless to stay away. Even as I went through my pre-performance routine, my usual laser focus kept wandering back to him and thoughts of what we might get up to later.
As we approached showtime, Rudy swept through backstage, clapping his hands for attention.
“Reminder, everyone, that there’s a combination afterparty and teardown immediately following the show.” He had to raisehis voice to be heard over the children. This was the fourth show in three days, and the little dancers were decidedly out of patience. The flowers and the mice were having an impromptu battle while some of the children from the party scene lobbed presents at each other. Rudy deftly caught one and handed it to the parent in charge of props. “The costume and set committees appreciate any help getting everything back across the street. There will be snacks.”
“And cake!” Margie added as she came up beside me. She gave me a friendly nudge. “Will you be there?”
“You did say there would be cake.” I couldn’t easily decline, and the afterparty was as good a reason as any to stick around so I could be alone with Rudy eventually.
Our eyes met across the crowded space, and his small, pleased smile said I’d given the right answer. I had no idea what Margie would think of my getting involved with Rudy on anything other than a friendship level, but I had no intentions of finding out. I already knew all the reasons I was no good for him, and Margie undoubtedly aspired to better for Rudy. For the short time we had together, though, neither she nor any other relative needed to know what we were up to.
“Five minutes to curtain!” The warning went up, and I pushed all thoughts of Rudy aside in favor of resuming my preparations.
“I’m not nearly as freaked out as yesterday,” Victoria reported as I walked by where Kitty was straightening her headpiece. Cheryl was feeling somewhat better after a trip to the ER for IV fluids, but she’d decided to let Victoria dance the part again while she recovered more. Victoria did indeed look far more comfortable today, her smile as wide as her animated gestures. “In fact, I’m kind of sad this is the last show. What if this is my only chance to dance the Sugar Plum Fairy?”
“It won’t be,” Kitty and I answered in unison before all three of us laughed. With any luck, Victoria had a long career ahead of her. However, her question lingered even after I left them to their costume adjustments.
The opening overture sounded, but instead of going inward, I went backward into the past. There I was among the children at the party scene, my first time on the big stage. I’d been the shortest of the boys that year, missing teeth, and so excited to simply be a part of the crowd scene. Then I was a bit older, playing a mouse in the battle scene, enjoying the fast-paced shenanigans and more complex choreography. In the same sequence, time leaped forward again to middle school. I was the Nutcracker prince alongside another teen playing Clara, my first major role and the gateway to everything that had come after.
Each part had led seamlessly to the next until I’d danced the Cavalier for so many years that I’d almost forgotten those first steps onto the stage. What if this was the last time I danced the Cavalier? Nothing was ever guaranteed, something Victoria already knew, and a lesson I’d learned over and over.
All my worries over another injury returned full force, and I found myself paralyzed with nerves unlike any I’d known before. On stage, the snow scene was underway, and soon, Clara and her prince would arrive at the Kingdom of the Sweets.
“Are you okay?” Costume in perfect order, Victoria appeared beside me, ready for her Act Two entrance.
“Of course.” My voice was stiff enough to cut paper, but Victoria was undeterred.
“It’s kind of cool that you still get nervous sometimes.” She grinned at me.
“How do you figure that?” I rolled my shoulders, hoping to regain control of my limbs soon.
“Nerves mean you still care. The performance matters to you.” She granted me an angelic smile right before the curtain fell on Act One. “Oops. Showtime for me. Gotta go.”
She was right. I did care. That was my entire problem. I cared so much about every step, every performance, every role, every ballet. The thought of never doing this again created a gaping hole in my gut, a dark pit of terror waiting to trap me with another injury. What if I faltered and endangered my return to the stage in Seattle?
Tavio had insisted I prepare a less difficult variation for my solo as an alternative. I could simply do that, reduce my risk of injury. Likely, many in the audience wouldn’t even know.
“You still don’t look so hot.” Victoria returned to my side for the Waltz of the Flowers. “Are you sure you’re not sick too?”
“I’m not sick.” I sucked in a harsh breath. A bit farther down from us, Rudy was whispering with one of the dance teachers. The audience might not know if I watered down the variation, but he would. I’d always danced for myself, for my sky-high standards, and for the audience, but I wanted to make Rudy proud, an altogether new and not entirely welcome feeling.
“A really wise person told me to take it one movement at a time. Make each moment the only moment that matters.” Victoria gave me an encouraging smile, the sort one might offer a scared kid, which I supposed I was. “Let’s give them something to remember.”
“Oh.” The breath I’d pulled in left me in a single rush. That was why we did this. Why we cared. Why we put in hour after hour in the studio. Why we stretched and iced and endured PT to come back and do it all over again. Because for the briefest of moments, we could be immortal, live forever in someone’s memory. And that alone was worth it.
The waltz neared its conclusion, and fresh conviction flowed through me with everyoompah. If this was indeed the last timeI ever graced a stage or danced the Cavalier, I would make it count. I harnessed all my fears, embracing them in a way I’d been resistant to all autumn. The fears weren’t going away. The risk of injury would always be there.
And I was going to dance anyway.
Twenty
