Page 63 of On Dancer
“Marvelous, darling.” Elaine, who’d likely never entered a thrift store in her life, made it sound like I’d found a fashion cheat code. “So smart to embrace the retro style.”
“Oh, the themed cocktails look so pretty.” My mother gestured at other well-dressed attendees, many of whom held shimmery pink cocktails or flutes of champagne. “I already placed our order for intermission.”
“Excellent.” Elaine led the way toward our seats as we stopped for an usher to scan our tickets and hand us programs. Alexander’s return was heralded on page one, with him looking resplendent in a gold tunic and tights. The camera had caught him mid-leap, underscoring his triumph over injury.
“Look at these seats.” Mom gushed over the tickets Alexander had secured for us. As I was about to sit, she pointed to the arm of my chair, which held a small wrapped gift and a card. “Oh, and something for you!”
We were in a section of seats usually reserved for season ticket holders and patrons. A few other seats also had gifts or cards. Two rows ahead of us, one of the padded velvet seats had a waiting pair of signed toe shoes, while a seat farther down had a red rose along with a thick card. The ballet took good care of its donors, and I carefully examined the envelope to make sure it wasn’t for Elaine. But my name was scrawled in Alexander’s tight handwriting, so I opened the envelope under the watchful eyes of our mothers. I had to trust Alexander wouldn’t have gifted me something too personal to open with an audience.
The card featured a pair of dice with anI love how you rollmessage.Told you I’d find the game store in my neighborhood. Play group meets next Friday night. Be ready!Alexander had included a gift card to the game store, and the box turned out tobe a set of Valentine’s colored dice, arranged to look like a box of chocolates.
“He does know you well.” My mother reached over Elaine to give me a fond pat.
“Make him take you out to dinner first,” Elaine advised as she read over my shoulder. “Somewhere nice.”
“Good idea,” I said noncommittally. Elaine and I undoubtedly had vastly different ideas as to what constituted a romantic date night.
“Oh, don’t you look splendid.” Melody Fox, the patron for Ballet Philadelphia, arrived to take the aisle seat next to me. She wore an elegant black cocktail dress with a matching beaded wrap, and her snow-white hair was swept up in a loose bun with a pearl clip.
“Mrs. Fox.” I gave her my warmest smile, as anyone making it possible for Julian Hale to hire Alexander away from Seattle was automatically one of my favorite people. “Did you fly in just to see Alexander?”
“Call me Melody, dear.” She bumped my shoulder with hers. “I didn’t put forty years into developing several bestselling wrinkle creams to sound ancient before my time.” She had a musical laugh similar to my mother’s. “Yes, I came to watch Alexander’s return. And there’s a young dancer we’d like to lure away as well.”
“Happy fishing.” I grinned at her, and she returned the smile.
“Indeed.”
“And thank you for all you and Julian are doing for Alexander.” My appreciation was genuine because the contract Julian had offered Alexander was quite generous by ballet standards.
“It’s a pleasure.” Her warm brown eyes sparkled as she leaned in closer to my ear. “You want to know a secret?”
“Of course,” I whispered back.
“That’s my ex-husband with wife number four.” She gave a subtle point a few rows up to an older couple with a horse-faced gentleman and a heavily made-up woman. “They’re well-known donors here. I’msogoing to enjoy the renewed success of Ballet Philadelphia. The petty keeps me young.”
“I won’t tell.” I chuckled, careful not to stare too much at the other couple.
“I like you.” Melody bumped my shoulder again. “I’ll have you and Alexander over this summer, after the move. I have ideas for your future as well.”
“I look forward to it.” At present, I was happy continuing as assistant director at Hollyberry Ballet School. Alexander and I had had many late-night talks about our hopes and dreams. At some point, I might find a position closer to wherever we found an apartment near the Ballet Philadelphia studio, something with flexible hours that could accommodate a family down the road. Not that we were ready for that quite yet, and not that I was about to discuss those dreams with our mothers so eagerly listening in.
“Ideas for the future sound exciting.” My mother nudged my other side. “I’m so proud of you and Alexander.”
“Shush,” I said as the house lights lowered. Thank goodness. We certainly didn’t need our mothers in cahoots with Melody. “The show is about to start.”
The performance was the world premiere of a ballet from a newer, rising choreographer with a custom score, and anticipation for the debut swept through the theater as the orchestra sounded the opening notes. The production featured white minimalist but inventive sets with geometric shapes, ramps, and multiple levels. The energetic opening featured multiple dancers from the Corps de Ballet, a swirling group number full of movement and activity.
I held my breath waiting for Alexander’s entrance in the second scene. As the corps retreated, he emerged alongside one of the female principal dancers for a stunning pas de deux, which featured a longer and more complex solo than the variation he’d performed inThe Nutcracker. He was fire personified, complete with a flaming red-and-orange tunic, a part he owned from the first commanding step onto the stage. The crowd thrilled to his every movement with audible gasps of delight with each jump.
Somehow, my nerves and I survived until intermission, where I declined a cocktail and nibbled a few pretzels to try to make it to the end of the show. Alexander wowed the crowd with another solo before the finale, and the roar of applause after the final curtain was due in no small part to his electrifying performance. The crowd gave him a rousing ovation, and I finally let myself fully exhale.
He’d done it. He’d returned to the stage better than ever, an utter triumph, and I had no doubt that the critics would be raving about his performance. His reputation among the best of the best was secure yet again. My mind flashed back to the first time I’d spied him in the studio at Hollyberry, how tentative he’d seemed as he worked through his recovery. What a difference a few months made—for him, for me, and for us as the entire course of our future had shifted.
I allowed a moment of nostalgia for those first icing and game sessions we’d enjoyed, just the two of us, as I joined our parents and Melody in the crush of people with backstage passes looking to greet Alexander and other dancers.
Alexander leaned against a wall, sweaty, breathless, and utterly transcendent, a portrait of an artist at rest. I let everyone else greet him first before making my way forward. Ten years had passed since I’d first seen him like this, an untouchable ballet god. But now, he was mine with a smile that was for me alone. What had started as a simple crush had become a dreamtransformed into a reality of a love far beyond my greatest hopes. Emotion clogged my throat and made my eyes burn as I stepped between our mothers to greet him.
“How was it?” he asked me with a weary smile. “I trust you to be honest.”
