Page 54 of On Dancer
Twenty-Nine
En arrière:to travel backward.
Alexander
I landed back in Seattle on a cold, gray, rainy afternoon that perfectly echoed my mood. My apartment was hauntingly empty. I collected a stack of mail, nearly all of which was marketing materials. Absent my mother’s eye for cozy style or Rudy’s colorful thrift tastes, my apartment felt sterile, shades of black and gray that echoed the weather. Had I put thought into a single item in the place? My fridge was bare, and I couldn’t be bothered to deal with groceries, so I placed an order for takeout I didn’t eat and climbed into bed, where I didn’t sleep.
I missed Rudy. No surprise there. But I also missed the pool house and chicken soup and the smell right before a big snowstorm. I missed our nightly routine of playing the game. Hell, I missed ice on my knee, and Rudy taking care of me. I missed kissing and sex and simply being close. He was rightthough. I had unfinished business here. I’d had no choice but to return, but I’d left a part of me behind in Pennsylvania.
In the morning, after a sleepless night, I trudged into the Seattle Ballet Company’s studio for class. Time to march right back into the life I’d left. No one here would care about my moping around. Accordingly, I showed up early, worked hard, and pushed through all the distractions that wanted to trip me up. I was a ballet robot, cold and clinical but technically perfect, each move carefully calculated to win the approval of the artistic director who’d arrived to watch my first class back.
“Alexander!” Patrice waited until after class to approach me as the other dancers took their break. She was a legendary evaluator of talent, and I had no doubt she’d decided on my next three roles simply from observing me during class. “You’re looking strong. No lingering tightness or pain?”
“No pain.” Well, no pain in my knee, but we weren’t discussing my heart.
I couldn’t afford to be anything other than confident with other dancers milling around. It was a blessing to be part of such a large, prestigious company, but the talent glut made for hungry younger dancers waiting for an opportunity to break through. Patrice had been nothing other than supportive during my recovery, and my fellow dancers had said all the right things upon my return. However, I couldn’t shake the worry that I hadn’t truly been missed.
As Patrice continued her pointed questions, I glanced around the large studio. Did Iknowany of these people? I’d been to a few of their parties. I’d danced with several for a decade now. Yet I couldn’t say as I knew any of their non-dancing interests or significant others’ names, or kept up with their major life events.
Shame on me. I knew more about the people in Rudy’s play group than I did my longtime coworkers. That thought dogged me the rest of the day. In the late afternoon, I emerged fromthe building that housed the studio and company offices into another gloomy day. It wasn’t quite four, yet what little light there was had already started to dim.
Welcome to January in Seattle.I had zero desire to be alone all night in my apartment with my depressing musings. Unfortunately, I had equally low desire to fetch groceries or do anything else of use, so I ended up wandering from the office building past our theater into the rest of the Seattle Center area. After passing the stadium, as I neared the International Fountain, my phone buzzed in my coat pocket. I almost ignored it, but what if it was Rudy?
Heart pounding, I pulled it out only to see a call from Victoria. Our only prior communication had been a few logistics texts for rehearsal and a thank you for the gift certificate. I’d told her she could reach out, though, so I dutifully answered.
“I need advice.” Victoria bypassed a traditional greeting in favor of a mournful moan. All the time with Kitty had evidently worn off in a tendency toward the dramatic, but if nothing else, the call was a decent distraction for me.
“I’m probably the last person to give advice.” Each hour away from Rudy made me feel that much more confused. Apart from that, my well-known bluntness meant few people sought me out for advice.
“Which is why I trust you.” Victoria was unfazed by my admission. “You’re brutally honest, and I need someone to tell me I’d be stupid to skip the summer intensive.”
“I’m not going to call you names.” If Victoria wanted harshness, she’d come to the wrong place. I tried to never cross the line into cruelty, even if I was truthful to a fault. “But I will remind you that if you skip the summer intensive, you might not be invited to stay for the school year.”
“I know.” Victoria groaned. There was a distant thumping noise like she’d flopped onto some piece of furniture. “I know.”
She would have been far better served calling anyone other than me, but I was here now. My initial inclination was to give her a quick pep talk, but what if I was wrong? I sank onto one of the benches rimming the large fountain. In the summer, the bowl of the fountain would be full of children splashing in water and going right up to the many sprinklers on the huge silver dome. Right now, though, the area was as empty as my brain.What would Rudy say?I took a breath, trying to unpack the subtext in Victoria’s sighs and groans.
“Does part of you want to stay in Hollyberry?” I asked at last.
Victoria was quiet for so long that I was certain I’d chosen the wrong tactic, but then she exhaled hard.
“Maybe.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Kitty and our friends keep talking about senior year plans, and all I can think is that I won’t be here.”
“That’s hard.” I channeled Rudy again, making a sympathetic noise. My chest pinched. He’d been good for me, softened my sharp edges. God, I missed him.
“But sacrifice is all part of this life, right?” Victoria stopped my head from wandering away with thoughts of Rudy. Returning to a normal volume, Victoria firmed up her tone. “Tell me it will all be worth it in the end.”
“I can’t tell you that.” Every young dancer I’d ever known flashed in front of my eyes. Brilliant careers, but those were the exception in a parade of disappointments, injuries, and flashes of success snuffed out by circumstances. Behind every principal dancer were hundreds of dreamers who never reached that peak. My own younger self joined the line of dancers pliéing along an imaginary barre. God, I’d been so arrogant. My voice turned distant as I sifted through these seldom-entertained memories. “I can tell you that I never had a Kitty. Never had a single close school friend. All my dancer friends were also competition, and we lived solely for ballet.” The words tumbled out, one afteranother, freed from decades of repression. “I don’t remember graduation. If there was a prom, I didn’t go. Isabella sent pics of her senior prank, but I was too busy prepping for aSleeping Beautyproduction to really look. The absolute only thing I wanted was to dance professionally.”
“It’s all I’ve ever wanted too.” Victoria sounded more earnest than certain.
“Is it?” I kept my voice as gentle as I could manage. “Because it’s also okay if it’s not the only thing for you. I told you all that because those were not healthy years.” Standing from the bench, I paced in front of the fountain. This was the first time I’d dared admit that fact aloud, but it was true. Honestly, it was a wonder I’d survived. Many of the early dancers I’d known hadn’t lasted nearly this long. “If you can imagine doing anything else, you might want to do that. This is a hard, unforgiving life, and you’re allowed to want a different path.”
“I’d be letting so many people down.” Victoria was back to a near whisper.
“But what about you?” I asked. My drive had always been internal. My father said if you were going to do something, you might as well be the best, but I’d never had the impression my parents’ love was conditional. Over the course ofThe Nutcracker, I’d been around Victoria’s mother enough to know she had similar high standards to my father, but she also clearly adored Victoria. “People who love you want to see you happy.”
“Yeah.” Victoria didn’t sound convinced.
