“We both know how that ended up happening. You had an option: You could have listened to my advice and done the right thing, but no, the life you have here wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to go off to the middle of nowhere and be just one more mediocrity instead of becoming the prima ballerina assoluta. Well, this is your prize. You’re a failure, just like your mother!”
Tears streamed down my cheeks. It wasn’t fair for her to treat me this way. But then, why was I surprised? She had been cruel and pitiless with me for a long time, pushing me past my limits in a way even my harshest professors couldn’t compete with. And still I wasn’t enough.
I had never felt love from her, or security, or protection. It didn’t matter what goal I achieved, she never congratulated me or encouraged me, because being the best and climbing to the top were things she simply expected. But if I made a mistake, she wouldn’t hesitate to show her contempt. She was implacable.
I had never been her granddaughter; I’d always been her project. I knew that more than ever just then. She had transformed me into a skittish marionette: obedient, head always lowered, staying in my place. Though every fiber in my body rebelled against the thought, I could understand why my mother had run away. Even if running away meant she had abandoned me, too.
I realized I was about to break down. But I wouldn’t give my grandmother the satisfaction, and I sure as hell wouldn’t ask her to forgive me. So I walked out without a word and shut the door of my bedroom, opening the window to get some fresh air and sitting down on the bed.
I looked at the poster of Maya Plisetskaya on the wall. They named me after her. They had my whole life planned for me the day I was born. If only I’d inherited her free, wild spirit. Her will to defend herself and be exactly what she was.
Despite my best efforts, the pain, sorrow, and bitterness were too much for me. What was I going to do? I took out my phone and called Antoine. It rang a few times and went to voicemail. I hung up and texted him:Not good. Call me when you can, please.
Then I wrote Matías:You there?
He asked me how it had gone. I wiped my tears away and blew my nose and responded,Bad.He wrote that he’d pick me up in thirty minutes, and when I asked,What about your classes?he responded,You’re more important.
I smiled. I adored Matías.
I looked out the window and waited to see him come up the sidewalk. When he did, I waved to him and told him to wait for me downstairs. My grandfather was alone in the living room. In the kitchen, I could hear Carmen and my grandmother putting together the shopping list. I rested a hand on Grandpa’s shoulder and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
He grinned. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t worry about her. She’ll get over it. She’s hard on you because that’s how she was raised. If you’d met her mother, you’d understand.”
I bit my lip and nodded, even if I didn’t agree. My grandfather adored his wife and had always forgiven her, and he tried to clean up her messes as best he could. But not everything was fixable. Especiallynot people. You can’t just glue the pieces of a broken spirit back together again. It’s like the water that runs through your fingers and soaks into the dry ground. Like the ash left after a fire that a brief gust of wind blows away. An ice cube in the sun. It vanishes and you can never get it back.
“Sure…” I told him.
“I know it feels like the end of the world, Maya, but it isn’t, I promise. Don’t forget, when one door closes, another one always opens.”
“Yeah, but what if that one shuts, too?”
“Then beat on the damn wall till you knock a hole in it.”
I smiled even though I knew he couldn’t see me, then kissed him on the cheek.
“I’m going to take a walk,” I told him.
“Be careful,” he responded.
I scurried softly down the stairs, and Matías received me with open arms, squeezing me against his chest as if we hadn’t seen each other in months. Noticing my eyes were red and swollen, he clicked his tongue.
“We need a beer and a bite.”
“It’s eleven in the morning. Besides, what about your diet?”
“Screw my diet. I won’t eat dinner tonight and I’ll be fine.”
“Matías…” I groaned.
I worried about his health, because he would do anything to keep his weight down, and there was a thin line between sacrifice and an eating disorder that wasn’t hard to cross. I’d seen it many times through the years, and not everyone managed to crawl out of the hole.
I had known Matías since I was eight, and we had auditioned for a place at the conservatory. We were in the same group, and we were both terribly nervous. Weeks later, we were back there, but as classmates. And we grew inseparable.
I weaved my arm through his and we headed downtown.
“What did the doctor tell you?” he asked.
“That I can’t go on dancing professionally. My leg’s a disaster, and if I keep it up, I’ll need a cane to even walk. Or worse.”
