FADING (A novel)(12)

I look up and see Andrea Emerson walk in. She’s our instructor for all technique classes, and she is hardcore. She has no patience for inconsistency and expects perfection. She’s tough, but she’s the best. I feel a little nervous upon seeing her, even though I put in studio time at least three days a week over the summer. If you are off your game, she will let you and everyone else know it.

Ms. Emerson is a seasoned dancer who has made a decent name for herself throughout her career. Although she is in her fifties, she can still dance like the pros. She has an intimidating look about her. She always wears her long blonde hair up in a tight bun with a black leotard, white tights, and a sheer black wrap skirt. She always has a stoic look, and in three years, I have yet to see her break a smile.

She claps her hands twice, and everybody goes in search for their place on the barre. We all look the same with our hair secured in buns on the tops of our heads, black leotards, white tights, and our pale pink pointes. The classical music of a piano comes through the speakers and fills the room. I place my left hand softly on the barre and wait for the signal to begin our exercises.

The routine never changes. I’ve been doing these exercises since I was eleven and was in my very first ballet class. It was my mother who first signed me up for ballet. She never imagined that I would want to make a career out of it, but I have always loved dance. The freedom you can find within the strict boundaries of technique makes me feel alive. I am happiest when I am dancing.

I work gracefully through the ninety-minute routine, and when we come to an end, Ms. Emerson calls for us to gather in the front of the room. She begins to talk about our solos for the year.

“Things will be different this year. Instead of you choosing your piece of music, you will be drawing it out of this basket. There is a different piece on each CD. You will randomly choose your CD and that will be the song that you will use to choreograph your final routine. Don’t forget ladies, this could be the beginning of your career, and for some of you, the end,” she says.

I slowly make my way up to the large, weathered black wicker basket. I look down at the pile of discs that have the potential to launch me forward or drown me. Picking the wrong song could be disastrous. I close my eyes and pull out a CD, all the while praying to the dance gods to bless me with the perfect piece of music. I stare at the blank disc as I make my way over to my dance bag that is lying on the floor. I sit down, shove it in my bag, and start to remove my pointes.

I walk out in the warm August afternoon and slide into my white Infinity coupe, setting my bag on the passenger seat. I take out the disc and push it into the CD player, turn up the volume, and hit play. I close my eyes as I wait for the music to start. I can barely hear the strings of a violin at first. They slowly and quietly begin to build with the low, deep hum of a cello followed by a dark, melodic piano. I recognize the piece as Clint Mansell’s ‘Lux Aeterna’.

This is an extremely dark piece of music. My stomach hollows and I feel anxious. I have never danced to, yet alone choreographed, anything this dark. I was hoping for something feminine and delicate, not this. All I can picture is Natalie Portman’s psychotic character in ‘Black Swan’ as she bleeds out on stage. When the song comes to an end, I turn off the stereo and drive home in welcome silence.

I don’t want to think about what I just heard. Instead, I try to focus on clothes. Yes, clothes. Think about clothes, Candace. Sorting through my closet in my head, I try to think about what I’m going to wear to the party tonight. It doesn’t take long for my mind to fill with dread when I think about being honest with Jack and letting him know that I’m not looking for anything with him. And based on the music I just heard, my year is f*cked. I am going to be living and breathing dance if I’m expected to choreograph a masterpiece to that song.

?????

I wake up from my nap, and even though I took a shower when I got home after dance class, I decide to hop in for another. The bathroom fills with steam, and I open the glass door to the shower. I try to calm my nerves as I focus on the water beating against my back, but I don’t think anything will take away these butterflies in my stomach. I give up on the shower and step out. I wrap a towel around me and see Jase fiddling around on my computer when I walk into my bedroom.

“What are you doing?” I ask while I walk over to my dresser and open the top drawer.

Staring at the screen, he says, “Nothing really, just messing around. I just finished my last class and thought I’d come chill with you.”

I pull on my underwear and start to slip on my bra when he turns to look at me.

“You going somewhere?” he asks.

“Yeah, there’s a party at Jack’s fraternity tonight, and he asked me to go.”

Jase leans back in the chair and sarcastically says, “You sound thrilled.”

Grabbing my hair dryer, I look back at him. “It’s just . . . I’m not into him aside from kissing. We have nothing in common, and I feel nothing towards him.”

Jase grins at me.

“This should not be a surprise to you, Jase,” I say.

“Nope, no surprise at all. Typical Candace, devoid of all things emotional. Well, except for me.” He gives me a big smile then turns back around to the computer, and I flick on the hair dryer.

?????

I see the lights of Jack’s car pierce through the large windows in the living room. I grab my purse and yell at Kimber from across the house. “Jack is here. I’ll see you later.”