Page 8 of On Dancer
“I’m a professional dancer,” I scoffed before pursing my lips. “We don’t really do hobbies. And I didn’t graduate from high school here. I went to a performing arts boarding school before becoming an apprentice in Boston. No one around here remembers me.”
“Everyone remembers you.” Rudy rolled his eyes at my continued complaints. “You’re a local celebrity. But you do need some hobbies. Balance isn’t a bad thing.”
“I have plenty of balance.” I went up on my good leg, not en pointe but high enough to make my case.
“Show off.” Rudy shook his head, but his eyes sparkled. Impressing him was a sort of fun I hadn’t had in months. “I should let you get back to work, but I’m glad you’re less cranky now.”
“I was rude earlier. And I am sorry.” For all Rudy was right and I did need to return to my work, I’d enjoyed bantering with him. My chest pinched with regret over my harsh treatment. “Guess the pressure of my recovery is getting to me.”
“Well, everyone here is on your side. Including me.” Another blush. Another grin. Another jolt of attraction from me. “We’re all cheering for you, Alex.”
“Alexander.” I corrected him quickly, but I tried not to resume my earlier sharpness. “I don’t do nicknames.”
“Lucky you. My parents named me after Great Uncle Rudolph in the hopes he might smile on me in his will. I’m all about nicknames.”
“It suits you.” I shrugged. Rudy had an easy casualness that I lacked and, quite frankly, envied. I’d always felt more comfortable with formality, but even I got tired of myself occasionally.
“Thank you.” Rudy returned to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Good luck with rehearsal later… Wait. You don’t do luck. Merde.”
“Thanks.” I laughed. He might not know ballet, but he knew enough to know the typical dancer’s expression of good wishes. My smile remained as I resumed my work.
I went back to the barre for some stretching. I’d lingered with Rudy longer than prudent for my muscles. Maybe that was what I was truly fighting against. I was getting old beyond just the ACL issue. My muscles and joints needed more babying these days, longer warm-ups and more deliberate recovery. I didn’t like feeling mortal. At least Rudy had proven an excellent distraction for a few moments.
Five
Pas de deux:French for step of two. In classical ballet, a man and woman partner in four parts: together slowly (adagio), the man’s variation, the woman’s variation, and together quickly (the coda).
Alexander
“This is fun.” Victoria was everything Tavio had advertised: young, ambitious, enthusiastic, and a naturally gifted dancer blessed with an ideal body type. That she found training fun was a bonus that would serve her well. She was new to being partnered, but she was working tirelessly at perfecting her positioning for the lifts and footwork. “You’re way better at setting me down than the guys at the summer intensive.”
“I should hope so.” I chuckled.
Partnering required intense concentration and control, along with excellent upper body strength, all of which were in short supply for teen male dancers learning to partner for the firsttime. I’d worked longer than Victoria had been alive to master the art of setting my partners gently on the floor rather than giving them a jarring drop.
“Sorry. I’m babbling. I’m just so pumped I actually get to meet, like, one of the ballet OGs and dance with you.” Victoria had a mouth full of shiny braces, a riot of curly hair escaping her bun, and a way of making me feel a hundred and three as she all but labeled me an elder statesman.
We were rehearsing under the watchful eye of Tavio and his wife Irina. Victoria’s mother, who was around my age, had attended our first rehearsal, but she’d had a conflict tonight. Continuing her spiel, Victoria shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re still dancing after all these years.”
Me too, Victoria, me too.I gave a small nod as the studio door opened to admit another teen whirlwind.
“Victoria has a poster of you with that Brazilian ballet dancer on her wall. Romeo and Mercutio forever.”
“Kitty!” Victoria squawked like an indignant baby chicken as she glared at Katherine, Irina and Tavio’s youngest child. Over the last few days, I’d already gathered that the girls were best friends, a fact made clear by Kitty’s exaggerated eye roll.
“You know you ’ship them.” Dropping two large bags by the door, Kitty crossed the room to bump Victoria’s shoulder. “Who wouldn’t?”
“You ’ship me and Eduardo?” I considered this revelation. Teen girls were an alien species to me, complete with their own language.
“You gotta admit you had vibes for days.” Kitty had come with her parents to a performance a year or so ago, and apparently, I’d made an impression. The wrong one, but an impression nonetheless. She snapped her short ink-stained fingers. “Make it happen.”
“Eduardo has a wife. A very nice one. And a baby on the way.” I had a feeling that fact wouldn’t be enough to deter the girls.
“Katherine.” Tavio let out a long-suffering groan. “We are rehearsing.”
“I know.” Kitty mimicked his groan. “You were supposed to be done twenty minutes ago.”
“Soon—” Tavio made a shooing motion with his hand, but Kitty kept right on talking over her father.
