As time went on, I would think about the boy who kept my heart safe for so long less and less. But there were still times when I would remember little moments we shared or the way my belly would flip whenever I’d catch his eyes across a room.
Today, sitting in Elysium and preparing to embark on this next chapter in my life, I can’t help but remember saying goodbye to Everton.
The day was warm, summer starting to show itself, and we had graduated from high school just a week before. There was so much hope in the air, but it felt like I couldn’t breathe as I stared into his eyes.
“I wish things were different,” I whispered the words while hating the sadness and loss in the eyes of the man I loved.
“I do too, my Tiny Dancer.”
The words caused the ache in my chest to deepen. His nickname for me felt like shards of glass being pressed into my skin. Because I knew it would be the last time I’d hear it.
“I have to figure out what I want in life,” his voice was strained.
The smile on my face was brittle, but I was trying to be strong. “You never wanted to take over Sagebrush,” it was a statement, not a question.
Because I had listened to him talk about how ranching was in his blood, but it didn’t fuel his soul. He would say I was what gave his soul wings, but he could get a glimpse of the same feeling when he was on the back of a horse. It wasn’t enough.
I couldn’t see him staying in Seneca Falls, but I also knew that asking him to go to New York and chase my dreams with me was too selfish and would never make him happy. He had to forge his own path. And I wasn’t going to be able to be a part of it.
It broke something in me, something fundamental, something that still hasn’t been pieced back together.
“No, Sagebrush isn’t my destiny,” he confirmed and all I could do is nod and swallow hard around the lump in my throat.
“Wherever you end up, whatever you end up doing, I hope you’ll find happiness, Everton,” my voice was rough and filled with the tears I was trying to hold back.
A tear escaped and Everton brushed it away with his thumb, his eyes earnest and filled with the love which shaped our time together. It had been there for so long and I was scared of what a life looked like without it.
“I wish I could go with you,” his words were a confession.
“But you can’t,” my voice was broken, but threaded with truth.
Shaking off the memory, one I haven’t allowed myself to indulge in for a long time, I can’t help but wonder why I’m thinking about it now. Maybe it’s the move which bringing back the last time I made such a drastic move and everything I left behind.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve wondered about Everton over the years, but I never allowed myself to seek him out. If he’s on social media, I wouldn’t know. Trust me, it was never about self-control. I was trying to save myself from the pain of seeing the evidence of him moving on, of the life he ended up building.
Because I’m sure he’s out there, somewhere, and happy. At least, I hope with everything in me that he is.
“The floors above us are the private floors for the Steel Sinners and are off limits.”
I have to blink a few times to chase away the last of the ghosts reaching for me and smile at the woman while hoping I lookunderstanding. With a nod, I pretend like I wasn’t almost lost to memories best kept in the past.
“Two floors below us here are hotel rooms which are only used by elite members. On the second floor is the casino and the restaurant,” she informs me, her tone professional.
“I saw the club and bar on the ground floor, is that all there is there?”
She gives me a look like she’s surprised I was even that observant and I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. It never feels good to be underestimated.
When she stands, I mirror her. “And some staff areas,” she answers my question. “We’ll start with the third floor so you can see how the rooms are laid out, but you shouldn’t have a reason to spend time there normally.”
I nod and try not to wince at the way my back aches slightly. It’s one of the perils of getting older, one I’ve been devastated by more than once. My body isn’t what it used to be. I’m sure the years of physical strain I’ve put on myself, which included practicing for far too long or pushing far too hard when I’ve been injured, didn’t help.
But now I’m here. In Las Vegas. To dance.
New York wasn’t interested in an aging dancer when younger ones kept arriving every day with stars in their eyes. Shows wanted their fire and innocence. I lost a little of both along the way.
I’m only half listening during the tour. I really try to soak everything in, but part of me is still lost in the memories. Of New York. Of Seneca Falls.
“This is one of the staff hallways,” I’m told as the HR woman reaches for the handle and pulls it open before ushering me inside, “there’s a small room the dancers have taken over as a makeshift studio.”
