“Designing and fashion weren’t my dream, though. That’s a more recent development.”
I see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. I have his attention. He’s looking at me like a student focused on a teacher during a lesson they find interesting.
I take a deep breath. “From the time I was a kid ’til I was twenty-two, all I wanted to do was to become a professional ballerina. Dancing was my purpose in life. It was the reason I got out of bed in the morning, and the thing I dreamed every night about. There was something magical about putting on a pair of satin pointe shoes and telling stories with your body. When I danced, I always felt like I was living in my own little slice of heaven.”
“Why aren’t you dancing? Why would you give it all up?” Sam’s voice is raspy. “I can’t imagine my sisters giving up doing what they love.”
“It wasn’t my choice.” My eyelids flutter. “The thing nobody tells you as a kid is that you wanting it isn’t enough. Eighty percent of becoming a ballerina is all based on luck. There are so many things you can’t control, like how tall you’ll end up being as an adult, or if you’ll end up having the right type of feet. Getting a job in a company dependsone hundred percent on the subjective decision of the artistic director. You either have what he or she wants, or you don’t. It’s black and white. Cut and dry.”
Sam closes the distance between us. He’s standing a few inches from me. I look away from him. “Min? What happened?”
“I was twenty-two. Despite being told I didn’t have natural turnout, I defied the odds and managed to make it into the corps de ballet with the Los Angeles Ballet Theatre. Barring injury, I was supposed to have many years of dancing ahead of me, but one evening, the director of LABT pulled me into his office and told me point blank my contract was terminated, and that was it. There were no second chances or opportunities to prove him wrong. My heart shattered. Everything I’d worked my entire life for up to that point was taken from me.”
Sam wraps his arms around me, and he pulls me into his body. He’s warm, as if I’ve been sitting next to a campfire. I feel the strong muscles underneath the scratchy cotton fabric of his camos expand and contract as he holds me. He smells surprisingly clean, like a mixture of grass and fresh laundry detergent.
“That’s bollocks. Absolute bollocks. I’m half-tempted to jump on a plane and give that ignorant director a proper dressing down. How dare he let you go.”
“As much as I would love to let you have a go at Artem for me, I’ve moved on. The company doesn’t even exist anymore. It went bankrupt.”
I stay in his arms a few more moments, then let go. I take a few deep breaths. Speaking about LABT has gotten a little easier, but it’s still like touching a rose full of sharp thorns. It stings.
“Did you ever try for another company?”
“Yes,” I admit. “I auditioned, auditioned, and auditioned, but the only thing I ever heard back from these other companies is that they’d reach out to me if a position opened. It never did. All I heard was silence. I caused me to grow to despise ballet and what it represented—failing.”
I stare at the horses around me. They seem attuned to my distress. I have several pairs of dark eyes tracking my every move. It’s a strange feeling, but also slightly calming.
“The reason I’m telling you this is because you have a person telling you how to get what you want. I know that if it were me, and I’d been given a path into a new ballet company, I would’ve taken it in a heartbeat.”
Sam runs a hand over his jaw. “I don’t know... what if I do all this and I come out of it worse for wear? What if I muck it all up and end up proving to the officers that I’m not the man they thought I was?”
So that’s it. He’s afraid to fail.
“Failure sucks. It shatters you. But you know what, when you’ve hit rock bottom, there’s only one direction you can go—up. Every time you don’t succeed, you learn a valuable lesson.”
Sam mulls over my words. “One thing I admire about you, Min, is that you’re like me. You aren’t afraid to tell me what’s on your mind.”
I rub the back of my neck. “It’s taken me a long time to get to the point of acceptance. Four years, if I’m being honest.Youare the reason I’m able to talk about this. A few of my London friends know pieces of my past, but you’re the only one I’ve ever spoken to about it in detail.”
“Why me?”
“Because everything inside of me is telling me you need to hear it. I know that by telling you this, you’ll understand that I’m not looking for pity. I want you to learn from me. Iwant you to take the golden ticket that’s being offered to you and run with it, because being on the other side is ugly.”
On cue, Titan lets out a thunderous neigh. We both glance at him.
“You heard the boss.” I nod to the horse.
Sam taps his pockets. “Do you have a pen?”
“I do.”
Not long afterSam fills out the form and submits it to Corporal Lee, he takes me on a tour to the forge, the regular mess, and finally, his room. He wasn’t joking about it being the size of a closet. It’s smaller than that.
I’m made to wonder who’s the brain that worked out the minimum amount of space that would be required for adults to live in. Sam and I had a difficult time moving around inside without bumping into one another.
“Where do you go if you need some time to yourself?” We’ve ascended about ten flights of steps. My legs are starting to burn. “Is it the roof?”
“I thought you would’ve guessed that by the signs on the wall.”
