"If she'd come to me at seventeen," Rye says, "I'd have deported myself to another continent." His voice drops. "But, she's eighteen. She's extraordinary. And she deserves someone who will move the actual earth for her." A pause. "I intend to be that."
My father is quiet his eyes not meeting mine and my heart cracks in my chest.
"You're my brother," he says.
"I know."
"I need time, Rye. You’re as asshole."
"That I am. Take whatever you need."
Dad's eyes come back to me and soften in a way that does something to my throat. "You okay, baby?"
"Yeah, Daddy." I feel Rye's heat next to me. "I really am."
"Okay." It’s a door cracked open at least but it needs time to open all the way. "Okay."
Then my mother swings into frame.
Arms folded. Controlled-breathing. The performance is not going great.
"Elodie Christine."
"Mom." I lift my chin. "I need to say something and I need you to listen."
She opens her mouth but I keep talking.
"Dance matters to me. But principal dancer at the Ford Center isyourdream, not mine. It's been yours since you put me in my first ballet slippers." Rye's hand settles at the small of my back, invisible from the camera. "I want to dance. For the rest of my life. But not like this. Not counting grams and weighing myself twice a day. I want to dance because it makes me feel alive. I want to figure out what that looks like."
My mother stares, her unmoving face hard to read.
"Patrykov was going to exploit that desperation," I say. "And I almost let him."
The silence stretches long enough that I hear a car pass on their street.
"I only ever wanted—" She starts but I override any excuses she might make.
"I know what you wanted."
She looks at Rye.
"Take care of her," she says, and he nods. "She is everything."
"We agree on that," he says. "Completely."
A long beat. "I need to go lie down," and walks out of frame.
Dad watches her go. The corner of his mouth moves. "She'll come around."
"Tell her the diet shakes are gone," I say.
His eyes go wet. He laughs. "Love you, baby."
"Love you, Dad."
Rye ends the call.
He turns me by the shoulders, tilts my chin up.
