“It’s fine.”
“You want me to come along?”
“No need,” I told him. “I’d almost…rather go by myself.”
He looked relieved, and that made me feel bitter as he came over, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me on the forehead.
“Everything will be fine, you’ll see. You’ll dance again, you’ll go back to being principal, we both will, and we’ll travel the world together. They’ll talk about us the way they did about Fonteyn and Nureyev. You and me onstage, Maya… We’re something else.”
He grabbed my chin and forced me to look him in the eyes—those eyes so green it was hard to believe they were real. I smiled softly. It was true, onstage we were so in synch we moved as one body, one mind, and we trusted each other completely. Never once had I feared that he’d drop me.
If only the same was true in our personal relationship.
“I’ll let you know,” I said.
“Sure, just text me. I’ve got class and then rehearsal today, so I’ll be back late.”
“OK.”
I gave him a quick kiss on the lips and hurried into the bathroom, washing up a little and taking a look at myself in the mirror. My eyes were so dark I could hardly see my pupils. My brown eyebrows framed them, just as my brown hair framed my face, still with a few tangles in it I hadn’t managed to brush out.
I leaned in close and thought about how different I looked from the rest of my family. My grandmother, my aunts and uncles and cousins, my mother…all of them were blond with light-colored eyes, their features a reflection of the Ukrainian blood in my grandmother’s side of the family. Even on my grandfather’s side, the Spanish side, most people had pale skin and straw-colored hair.
I was the exception. And whenever I noticed those differences, I couldn’t stop thinking about how somewhere, there were similarities. Traits that resembled another person. Him. Wherever he was.
I walked off down the hall and heard voices in the living room: Matías and Rodrigo, whom I found at the breakfast table. They formed part of the corps de ballet and shared the apartment withAntoine. It’s funny how small the ballet world is, like a little army you serve in and give your all to. You work sixteen hours a day, six days a week. You eat, sleep, and breathe ballet.
Maybe that’s why we dancers rarely associate with people outside the world of leotards and pointe shoes. You have to be in it to understand it. We spend almost all our time together, training together, rehearsing together, touring together.
“Good morning!” I said.
“Good morning,” Matías replied.
Rodrigo stood and pulled a chair close to the table. “Want a coffee?”
“No thanks. Caffeine’s the last thing I need today.”
I looked around for my bag and found it on the sofa. Then I grabbed an apple Matías handed to me. He was always so attentive. I thanked him with a peck on the cheek.
“Today’s the big day,” he said.
“Or the worst day,” I responded.
Matías was my best friend, the only one I could tell everything to without any worry of being judged. I could share my worries with him, the loneliness that comes with that disciplined, competitive lifestyle. I could cry in front of him. I could show him all my shortcomings, even the ones I buried deep.
“It’s all I know how to do,” I told him. “I can’t lose this.”
“You won’t. Worst-case scenario, Natalia will put you with the corps de ballet until you get your rhythm and confidence back. Then you’ll be principal again.”
“You really think that?”
“Of course I do. Ever since she came on as director of the company, she’s done everything in her power to keep you in the ensemble. She’s been following you since the conservatory days.”
I nodded, wishing with all my might that he wasn’t wrong.
I started dancing when I was four, and I hadn’t done anythingsince. I’d given up all other studies to focus on ballet. Climbing slowly to a summit everyone thought I was predestined to reach. I had what I needed to achieve it. And even if the fear of injury is something that stalks every one of us, I never thought it would happen to me, and not in such a ridiculous way.
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