She nods and looks back down at her food. “Well, her and my parents. You?”
“I tried the team doctor and then my coach.”
“That’s it?” Her sapphire eyes find mine.
“Yeah. I was supposed to go in today to have my shoulder assessed before practice. Figured I needed to let someone know I wouldn’t be there.”
“You didn’t call any family or friends?”
I shake my head.
“Did you not try to call your ballet people?”
“No, I stopped when the calls wouldn’t go through to my family.” She goes back to eating, or rather just moving the food around her plate. Her gaze clouds, and her fingers toy with the silver chain around her neck.
“I’m not super close with my parents,” I admit, my face falling.
“Oh? We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“It’s fine. I can see that look in your eye like you want to know.” I lean back in the booth, my shoulders slumping a little.
“There’s no look. I don’t care,” she feigns, her eyes finding mine.
“Yes, you do, but there’s no story to tell. We just aren’t super close. I see them a couple of times a year, and I try to talkto them monthly.”
“That’s it?” The hand that was still fiddling with her necklace falls to her lap.
“They don’t live in New York, and they travel a lot for work. If I’m honest, I don’t even remember where they are right now. Australia, I think…or maybe it’s Austria.”
I think back to the last time we spoke. Goodness, it had to be over a month ago.
“You have siblings though, right? You didn’t want to call them?”
I nod. “A sister.”
“What’s her name?”
“Maren. We used to be a lot closer, but she lives in Wales with her husband and two girls now. We do our best to call, but you know how life goes. You make a plan, and then the next thing you know, two weeks have gone by and you still haven’t talked.”
“I’m sorry.” Her blue eyes find mine again, and my heart skips below my ribs.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It sounds lonely. My little sister, Andi, is my best friend. We’ve never gone a day without talking.”
I do my best to force a smile. “She and I are both busy, so it’s okay. I get a lot of snail mail from her girls, but sometimes making time to talk or visit is hard.”
“Like letters?”
“Yeah, her oldest, Elsie, is six and is learning to write, so I’ve been getting more hand written letters lately. They’re a little hard to decode, but I do my best.” I chuckle, and a smile spreads across my face. This time it isn’t forced. Elsie and Iris have always had that effect on me. “In the last one, she was asking if I’d buy her a pomeranian because Maren told her no.”
“And her little sister?”
“Iris is four, so she mostly sends me drawings and doodles.”
My mind wanders to the art that covers my locker, and I wonder if I’ll ever see them again.
“Is she who drew the picture in your wallet?”
