My therapist said my OCD—and my people-pleasing tendencies—were because I was desperate to earn love and approval. And sometimes, when I offered to cover too many shifts or give away what little money I had to someone on the street who needed it more, I thought she might be right. Maybe I was someone craving reassurance and a gentle touch.
But other times, I wondered if I was more of a masochist. Because I wasn’t sure anyone who wanted love and approval would join the ballet.
“EEK!” Mia screamed, running over to me and wrapping me tightly in her arms as soon as I entered the main theater. “You’re here!”
I hugged her back, though my brows furrowed against where I was pressed to her shoulder. Even with my shoes on, Mia practically towered over me. “Um… Mia? You saw me yesterday.”
“Ugh, and it’s been too long! Come on. Let’s go warm up.”
My chest loosened a fraction as I set my bag backstage and followed Mia to a makeshift set of barres where we began to stretch together. My hips groaned in protest as I held my leg almost as high as my head, yet it was a good pain, the kind that meant I was back where I belonged.
While I stretched, I moved on autopilot. I switched out of my flimsy sneakers and tied my pointe shoes. I smoothed my pink leotard and tights before slipping on a matching short skirt. Our clothes had to be tight and somewhat revealing so Madame Germaine could watch our movements closely, pointing out all of our mistakes with her scary-looking black cane.
I fidgeted with the straps of my tank top before pulling my hair back into a ponytail and wrapping a ribbon around the tie, fixing it into a cute bow that sat neatly on top of my head. I smiled at my reflection, urging myself to actually like what I saw, while Mia giggled.
My smile instantly dropped. “What?”
“You are so cute. I can’t believe you think Alek is actually staying away from you.”
I opened my mouth to question her, but before I could, Madame Germaine’s voice rang out. Our accompanist began to play trilling notes on the piano in the corner. The director clapped her hands, gesturing for us to surround her in a semicircle.
The room quieted instantly. I felt the silence down to my marrow.
“Today is important,” she said. “Auditions for our leads, Romeo and Juliet, will begin shortly. I expect professionalism, focus, and courage. Even if you are not selected as principal, today will determine your role in the show.”
My pulse quickened.You got this,I tried to tell myself.It’s just an audition. You’ve had tons of those.
“You are not good enough to be here,” a voice inside of me trilled.
“And,” Madame Germaine added, “we will have a guest observing.”
A ripple went through the room as we all wondered who the guest would be. Company auditions and rehearsals were alwayskept far from the public eye. We wanted people to see us at our best—not the weeks it took to get there. Even I, as a newbie, knew that.
“The Company has recently acquired a new investor,” our director explained, her lips almost twitching down in the corners. “He will be watching today’s audition and, if he so chooses, giving feedback on the roles selected.”
The room shifted to the darkened rows of seats beyond the stage, where we all knew our new investor would be sitting. I tried to peek beyond the curtain, but the lights were too bright and the chairs too dark. All I could make out was a silhouette of shadows.
My skin prickled with awareness. Like there was a monster out there, inhaling all the atmosphere until the only thing I could breathe was the sensation that they were watching me like they hungered for me. My chest tightened, breath coming shallow as my thoughts scattered like birds.
“Not perfect.”
“Not perfect.”
“Not perfect.”
“Not perfect.”
I pressed my thumb into the inside of my wrist, grounding myself in the sharp sensation. Once. Twice. Three times.
Breathe,Eva.
Without meaning to, my mind drifted to several weeks ago. To Alek’s hands steadying me against the cold, making me feel desired for the first time in years. Desire and a flicker of something sharper—unease, maybe—wrapped around me like armor. Somewhere beyond the music and mirrors, I felt a trace of him, a shadow at the edge of the room, and though I didn’t want to admit it, it made me braver.
I straightened my spine and prepared myself to dance. Whatever today held—whether that was a role or a rejection—I could do this.
We startedthe auditions with warmups, all of the dancers splitting into two lines where we would perform classic leaps and turns to jaunty music, one after another after another, like an assembly line of ballet.
My nerves began to flare up once more while I watched the older, more experienced dancers move with grace and poise. While these were just warmups, everyone knew that Madame Germaine was already beginning to form her finalists. We were lucky to be given the chance to audition with each show, the principals ever changing. Not every theater was like that.
