“Can we talk?”
Fuck no.
“Absolutely not.”
The last thing I want to do is talk to my mother now. Not when I’m finally feeling better for the first time in ages. I don’t want to hear what she has to say.
“Jase, please.”
“No,” I snap at her. “I don’t want to be with you, Mom. Not with you, not with Dad. You celebrated your birthday on the anniversary of Sam’s death, and you didn’t care. You didn’t care how it was affecting me, or Lia either. You just ignored it. Sam’s day isn’t yours.”
Mom flinches. A look of guilt flashes in her eyes, and my heart constricts. But guilt isn’t enough.
“I didn’t ignore it,” she says, but I silence her with a wave of my hand before she can continue.
“Yes, you did. And you know what? I couldn’t care less what you have to say about it. Honestly. It doesn’t touch me. Have your parties. Let Dad talk down to you. Live your life. But leave me out of that shit.”
“Jase, no. Please, let’s talk.” She wrings her hand. She looks like she’s about to burst into tears at any second. In spite of it all, my stomach cramps painfully. I can’t remember the last time I saw Mom cry. But it isn’t enough to make me cave.
“I don’t want to talk to you. Why can’t you ever respect what I want? You’ve completely ignored me for the last two years. You let Dad kick me out. You cut my tuition money because I didn’t do what you wanted. Just do what I ask for once and leave!”
She flinches again at every word I say. I hate this. I just want her to go.
“Jase, please,” Mom begs, but I’m done. I’m done with my whole family that isn’t really a family and the permanent struggle of trying to make them want me. I’m tired of waiting for them to accept who I am. And who I’m not.
Without another word, I close the door in her face and lean against it, breathing heavily. I close my eyes. Why did she come? Why can’t she just leave me alone?
“Jase?” Zoe’s soft, unsure voice reminds me that I’m not alone. I open my eyes. She’s still sitting on my bed, watching me worriedly. She saw everything, and I’m glad.
“Are you okay?”
I shake my head, and she holds out both hands to me. Exhausted, I climb back into bed with her and let her hold me.
We don’t talk anymore. But she’s there, and at some point, I fall asleep.
Chapter 46
Zoe
Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be able to be happy again. How can it be possible, after everything I’ve been through?
—Zoe
Dancers’ bodies are pure miracles. We’re perceived as delicate, fine, and fragile, but very few people know how much strength is hidden in our slender muscles. Most people don’t understand how we can bring our bodies to their limits. They don’t understand the forces that impact our knees and ankles when we land hard on the ground after a leap, how we make our bodies perform the most unnatural movements, flexing almost to the point of impossibility.
Dancing isn’t just beauty, aesthetics, and art. Dancing is pain, abused feet, and inflamed muscles. It hurts. The audience can’t see any of that. They see courage and grace, movements that are inconceivable, dancers smiling through the pain because they’re doing what they love. It’s what makes us special. What we do best.
Dancing is all of this. Beauty, pain, and burning passion. Sometimes it’s bitter disappointment and frustration. But there are also days when everything is right, when you have the right partner and trust yourself.
Today is one of those days.
I’m dancing. I’m dancing with Jase, and it’s almost perfect. Every movement, every turn, every lift. His hands on my body, on my waist, my hands, my legs. He’s holding me, and I feel safe. Safe and free at the same time. My heart hammers against my ribs, and every muscle is as tense as it can be. It’s exhausting in the best possible way. I’m close to my limits, but this time they feel different. They’re limits I can exceed. I go deeper in back bends and stretch my legs higher. I ignore the pulling in my muscles and the painful throbbing in my feet. When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I hardly recognize myself. I am radiant, and I feel beautiful.
For the first time in months, my body isn’t working against me. We’re in harmony again. I’m in control.
“Excellent, Zoe,” Francesca says. She nods appreciatively as Jase and I finally pause, breathing heavily. She smiles at me, a hint of pride glinting in her eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile before. “Keep up the good work.”
My face glows with exertion and self-consciousness. My skin is covered with a thin film of sweat. I nod and manage to thank her.
