I never say much when asked about my parents. There’s not that much to say. They didn’t abuse me. Theydidneglect me to a degree, but it was never all that bad.
“They were married to their work, and they were married to each other, and they had me even though they weren’t excited about being parents,” I explain. “They owe so much to your parents—your family—and they know it. They saved a ton of money on nannies and babysitters because I got to stay at your place when they weren’t around. You’ll meet them at the fundraiser. In Cleveland.”
“I will?”
“Yes. You’re surprised because they never came to my school events.”
She nods.
“Well, my mother is on the board of my foundation, so…”
“Ah. Do you get along with them?”
“Yes. I think so,” I say. “We aren’t close, but I respect them. I put my mother on the board of my foundation because she’s a very bright woman with great investor instincts. She has a solid basic understanding of high tech, but despite how hard she works, she’s on fewer boards than my dad. She doesn’t get as much publicity.
“She’s a very honest, straightforward person, and a couple of years ago, I offered to buy them a new house. She said they’re hardly ever home, so what’s the point. I asked her if there was anything I could give her that would make her happy. Most mothers would saygrandchildren. She said she just wanted meto remember her if any business opportunities come up. So…she’s making a lot of connections on the board.”
“And you’ve really never been mad at them?” she asks.
“I don’t understand the point of being mad at someone for being who they are. People change when they want to. My parents never wanted to be better parents. But they were never terrible parents. They provided for me. That was their definition ofgood enough.” And now I’m ready to ask Olivia the thing that I’m dying to know: “Do you ever want kids?”
“Yes.” I’m surprised by her quick response. “Eventually. Obviously, I can’t do it while I’m working my way up the ranks. But after I retire.”
“So your goal is to become a principal dancer first?”
“My goal is to dance the lead inGiselle. It usually goes to principal dancers, obviously. Once I’ve nailedGiselle, I think I’ll be ready to retire. I’m not the most ambitious dancer in the world, believe it or not. I just want to be the best that I can be, and I think my best will be expressed in that particular role.”
“That’s very interesting. What is it about that role?”
She sits up, cross-legged and facing me, so animated all of a sudden. “It’s just a freaking awesome ballet on so many levels! Especially because there’s a supernatural element, but I think the character of Giselle just epitomizes so much about the life of a dancer and love in general. Do you know the story?”
I love seeing her so enthusiastic. I lie on my side, facing her. “Tell me.”
“It’s simple, of course. Or the plot is, anyway—they always are. It’s about a peasant girl who’s been courted by a gamekeeper named Hilarion. But she falls in love with a duke named Albrecht when he’s pretending to be a peasant, and then she finds out that he’s already betrothed to a princess, and she dies of a broken heart.”
“Oh no.”
“And then there’s this band of undead virgins called the Wilis, who dance in the forest from midnight until four a.m., and any man who’s in that part of the forest at those hours will die of exhaustion after being magically compelled to dance with them,” she says. “Because that’s the Wilis’s fate—to lure young men to their doom.”
God, I feel this in my soul.
“They raise Giselle from the dead, and she’s commanded under a spell by the queen of the Wilis to lure Albrecht to his death, after she’s had this really sweet reunion with him and watched him grieving for her at her grave. But Giselle is powerless to disobey the queen, so she dances seductively, enticing him to come to her. And he can’t resist her. They dance together, beautifully and furiously, as Albrecht’s energy is exhausted. Giselle keeps begging the queen to have mercy on him. They dance an amazing pas de deux until the sun begins to rise. At four a.m., the Wilis return to their graves and Albrecht’s life is saved, although he mourns for Giselle forever.”
“Albrecht doesn’t die?” I ask.
“Well, it depends on the interpretation, but he dies a metaphorical death, for sure. Whether he lives to marry the princess or not. And what’s great about the character of Giselle is that she is this joyful, passionate young woman who loves to dance, but she has a weak heart. Literally. In death, she finds forgiveness and strength and learns that even though the duke deceived her, his love was real.”
“I see. So it’s a poignant ending,” I say.
“Most of the popular ballets are tragedies.”
“Do you see yourself as having a weak heart?”
Olivia shrugs. “Maybe? We’ll see. You can’t really know until your heart is broken. Right?”
I take her hand, lift it to my lips, and kiss it. She’s looking down, avoiding my eyes. She might be tearing up. I wait for herto speak because I don’t think anything I could say right now would be the right thing.
But I understand whatGiselleis about. I get it. Women make men do a dance, and men are afraid it will kill them. We fall in love, and we feel like we have to hide who we really are to get them to fall in love with us. They find out we’re a lie, and it kills them. But it makes them stronger, and they save us, even though we can never truly be with them. Not in the way they want us.
