Several emotions compete for dominance in my nervous system, but this moment isn’t about my feelings. It’s about hers.
“You have to take it.”
“What?”
“You must take it,” I repeat, finding conviction somewhere deep within. “This is everything—the opportunity to dance where your father’s story began. This isn’t even a decision. You don’t turn this type of offer down.”
Her eyes develop that suspicious shine that precedes tears, and I realize she expected resistance. At least reservations.
“God, I didn’t come here to have feelings flood out of me,” she says, pressing palms against her eyes like she can physically push the emotions back inside.
“Well, you also didn’t come here expecting to find me successfully airborne, so today’s full of surprises.”
She produces something between a laugh and a sob. “Your pirouettes are still tragic though.”
“I prefer ‘orbitally challenged.’”
The studio walls seem to lean in, creating intimacy in the empty space.
“Look, I won’t pretend this isn’t upsetting for me, selfishly. But this is about you and your life. You have to take this opportunity. Not for your career, not for your father’s memory, not even for ballet. You have to take it because some chances only come once, and saying no to them is saying no to the person you’re supposed to become.”
She studies my face with that intensity that makes me forget I’m supposed to have other thoughts.
“You really think so? I mean, there’s so much to consider, so many unknowns. I just don’t—”
“This is your moment,” I interject. “And moments like this don’t wait for you to be ready.”
The truth is already written in her expression—she’s leaving. And I’m going to let her. Hell, I’m encouraging her. Because that’s what you do when someone’s dreams are bigger than your desire to keep them close.
“New York will miss you…I’ll definitely miss you too,” I say. “Have you told your mom or sister yet?”
She shakes her head. “Not yet. I wanted to figure things out first.”
“What about Gavin?” I say.
“It’s over,” she whispers. “With Gavin. I ended it last night.”
“Yeah?”
“He said it would be a mistake to leave.” She lets out this brittle laugh. “Like being a principal dancer performing at the Mariinsky doesn’t hold a candle to being his plus-one for life.”
“You don’t seem too upset about it.”
“I’m not.” She pauses, reconsidering. “Or maybe I am, just not the way I expected. I’m upset that I wasted years with someone who saw me as some accessory to his life.”
“Well, it sounds like it’s for the best this opportunity has come now.”
“I guess,” she says, her eyes drifting elsewhere.
“You don’t sound convinced now.”
“Because now I’m standing in a studio with someone who told me to take the job. Who understood immediately why it mattered. And that’s making it harder for me to decide.”
The space between us has developed its own gravitational pull.
“Petra—”
“I know it’s bad timing—horrible timing. I know I’m leaving. But…” She places her hand on my chest.
