Page 39 of On Dancer
En croix:in the shape of a cross; a sequence where the same movement is performed to the side, front, back, and the same side again.
Alexander
And dance I did. I performed perhaps the bestThe Nutcrackerpas de deux of my career, partnering Victoria with ease, and performing my full variation, no hesitation or holding back. I left it all on the stage, and when the audience roared its approval, I shot Victoria a grateful smile. This moment made everything else worth it.
As we came off stage for the final time, Rudy touched my arm before I could head to my dressing room.
“You were magical.” His awestruck voice matched his expression. His praise meant more to me than any round of applause. His opinion mattered. He mattered. And his wondermade me feel taller than the theater itself. “You were so fearless, Alexander.”
“Hardly. But I danced anyway.” Tone solemn, I held his gaze. “I couldn’t have done this show without you.”
“Same,” he whispered. I wanted to bottle this feeling, stand here forever basking in his approval. I wished he could be backstage at every show, a frivolous sort of dream that couldn’t ever be, but oh, how well I might dance if he could.
Neither of us had the luxury of staying in our little bubble very long. Typical last show backstage chaos called Rudy away, and my family descended upon me for kudos. My mother brought flowers while Isabella gave me a stuffed nutcracker toy.
“Bradley and I discovered the cutest little small town with a year-round holiday shop. You should go sometime. Well worth the drive. And I wanted to give you something you could take back with you to remember us.”
“As if I could forget you.” I gave her a one-armed hug, trying to spare her the worst of my sweatiness. “Or this production. So many memories.”
“New ones?” She raised an eyebrow, head subtly tilting toward the spot where Rudy stood talking with some dance parents. We weresonot having this conversation, especially with my mother right there at her side.
“All sorts,” I said airily as I placed a hand on her shoulder and my mother’s as well, steering both of them toward the exit. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really want to try for a shower before what little hot water there is runs out.”
The ancient shower at the theater left me missing my tub and Rudy both. The bath the night before had been a sweet gesture, made more so because he hadn’t tried to turn it into an erotic adventure. His sole concern had been my comfort.
Yet, Rudy had to have been exhausted himself. I wasn’t the only one who’d put in long hours for the show. Indeed, nearlyevery time I’d seen him the last four days, he’d been on the move, directing traffic, answering questions, calming nerves, and preventing disasters. He also deserved someone to take care of him.
I was hardly equipped for such a task, but I fetched a bottled sports drink from a cooler near the snacks table. I found Rudy lining garment bags up on a wheeled rack for return to the school.
“Here.” I held out the drink, which he accepted.
“What’s this?” He smiled even as his eyes narrowed with confusion.
“You never carry a water bottle.” I shrugged like I hadn’t wasted a good five minutes trying to come up with some sort of suitable gesture. “I thought you might be thirsty.”
“I am. Thank you.” His grin widened, both dimples making an appearance. I moved to help him with the rack, but he waved me off. “And you certainly don’t have to help tear down. You’ve done more than enough.”
“Nonsense.” I ignored his protest and helped him pilot the rack toward the loading bay, which had a useful ramp for this sort of operation.
“Seriously. The show was a smashing success thanks to you.” The pride from earlier was back in Rudy’s voice, making my chest lift as we navigated the rack down the ramp. “With any luck, the theater and the ballet school will live to see another season.”
“Here’s hoping.” I didn’t much care for thinking about next year when Rudy would likely be here and I would not. Instead, I glanced around the loading dock area. A team of parents was pushing set pieces onto a truck while others carried boxes of props and more bags of costumes. Children milled about as well. I knew many of their names. There was a familiarity herethat bigger productions never had. “I’d forgotten how intimate a small production can be.”
“Is that your way of saying you’re going to miss us?” Rudy’s voice was light, and I couldn’t see his expression well with the rack between us. I’d miss him, but I wasn’t sure how to articulate that without revealing far more than I wanted.
“I might.” I matched his tone, and we continued on to the school, where the flurry of activity continued. The set committee chair grabbed Rudy for a question about storage, leaving me to try to find a way to stay useful or at least out of the way. Another snacks table had been set up at the ballet school, this one with a large sheet cake celebrating a successful run. Parents and students continued to mill about, and many little dancers had presents and cards for their teachers. I’d sent Tavio and Irina a holiday treat basket earlier in the week, and after some deliberation, I’d given Cheryl and Victoria gift cards to a cosmetics chain. Something fun, but not too personal.
“Thank you for everything.” Victoria broke away from a group of teens to come over to where I stood. She held out a small wrapped item.
“For me?” I considered the package, which was wrapped in unicorn reindeer paper. “Usually I’m the one who gifts something to my partners, not the other way around.”
“Kitty dragged me to an ornament painting party with the art club,” Victoria explained as I unwrapped a wooden star-shaped ornament with colorful stripes of glittery paint. “We both worked on it. It’s for your tree next year in Seattle.”
“Thank you.” I managed to get the words out past my strangely tight throat. Like Isabella, she wanted me to remember this place and time. No way was I forgetting, even without the mementos. The thought of my apartment in Seattle, which had never once hosted a tree or holiday gathering, filled my chest with a mixture of dread and emptiness. I forced my attentionback to Victoria. “I can’t wait to hear what role you get for next year’sThe Nutcrackerat your new school.”
“Don’t remind me.” Victoria groaned, drawing themeout to epic lengths. “Everything will be different next year.”
“I’m sorry.” I shifted the ornament awkwardly from hand to hand. I wasn’t cut out for comforting, but unfortunately for Victoria, no one else was paying us much attention. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
