FADING (A novel)(122)

“I don’t know.” I feel a lump form in my throat, and my eyes prick and sting with tears. “It’s weird because he lives a few minutes down the street from me, but it feels like he’s a world away.”

“I want you to think about what you might need to bring you more peace over this situation.”

“Okay.”

?????

I look at myself in the mirror. I have finished dancing my ensembles and am applying the last of my makeup before I take the stage for my solo. Adding a few extra bobby pins to my bun, I stand up and make my way backstage. I focus on keeping my muscles warm as I wait for my call.

I feel nervous, as I always do, but I know the nerves will fade as soon as I hit the stage. When the curtain drops, the dancers clear the stage, and I walk to center stage and place myself in fifth position. My heart is pounding, and I’m anxious for the curtain to rise. I know I’ve worked my ass off for this moment, now I just need to nail it.

The heavy velvet curtain begins to rise as I hear my music start. The heat of the lights sinks into my skin, as I feel the weight of everything I have been working so hard for in the tension of my muscles. Sliding into my chainès across the stage, the music is loud and it fills the auditorium. When I feel the vibrations of the low cello in my chest, I let myself fall into the tortured piece. The music pulses throughout my body while I take myself to my dark places as I begin my footwork across the stage. I know every seat is filled, but right now, it’s just me in this room as I glide effortlessly, always leading with my heel to show off my perfect turnout.

Everything about this year floods through me. I no longer need to take from anyone else; I only take my pain, my brokenness, my suffering. It pours out of me. Everything Jack did to me, and all the torment of losing Ryan. I let my heart bleed as I move through my piece. I throw it all out there and finally allow myself to truly experience this piece—I finally feel it.

When the staccato violins enter the piece, I hit my fouettès one by one with a double pirouette on every second and sixth count. The applause rises as I finish and slide out. The spots are sharp on my piquès and I know I’ve nailed the routine when the music hits its second high then drifts away.

The crowd is almost as deafening as the music was. I stand and pas marchè to center stage. With a strong port a bras, I take the final curtsey of my college career. Ms. Emerson catches my eye as she walks onto the stage, looking as stoic as ever, and hands me a bouquet of long-stemmed pink roses. I thank her, and I can barely hear her over the applause when she says, “I knew you could do it,” and then steps aside, giving me a reverence, and I curtsey one last time before the curtain drops.

I stand there for a moment while dancers for the next ensemble run and rush all over the stage and around me. I soak in the moment and then walk off stage, back to the dressing room. I’m overcome by the congratulations from my fellow dancers and friends.

When the show ends, I wash my face and change into my old yoga pants and UW sweatshirt. I tie my running shoes and throw my bag over my shoulder as I make my way out of the building. Everyone is coming over to the house tonight for drinks to celebrate. Nothing big, just hanging out as we usually do. When I turn the corner, I have to do a double take when I see Donna standing there against the wall.

“You were amazing, dear,” she says as she walks toward me.

I haven’t spoken to her since Ryan and I broke up. She has called several times, but I knew it would hurt too much to answer. Donna filled a place in my heart that was only hers to fill. She’s the mother I’d always wanted—the one I’d always needed.

“What are you doing here?”

Pulling me into her arms, I savor her embrace as she says, “I told you I would be here.” Leaning back, she adds, “I couldn’t miss seeing you dance. You were beautiful. I knew you were amazing, but I just had no idea you were that amazing.”

“Thank you,” I say as a smile breaks across my face. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“I tried calling a few times, but—”

“I’m sorry. I know you called. It just . . . It hurt to lose Ryan, but it hurt to lose you too.”

“You didn’t lose me. I love you, dear. You will always have me whenever you need me. I know Ryan hurt you, and I understand it might be easier if I’m not around, but please know that I am always here for you.”

Her words hit where they always hit: deep inside. My chin quivers as I try not to cry, and I go in for another hug. When she wraps her comforting arms around me, I let the tears free. “I’m glad you came. I’ve missed talking to you.” When I step back, I add, “But you’re right, it hurts. You were the best gift Ryan ever gave me, but I need the space right now.”

“Of course. I understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about. I am so proud of you. You will do amazing things. Just keep following that strong heart of yours.”

“Thank you, Donna. Really . . . thank you for everything.”

“Well, I better get going. Congratulations.”

I smile at her one last time as she turns to walk out of the building. Another pang of loss eats me from the inside and I cry. I don’t fight it; I just let it envelop me. After a few minutes, I walk outside into the cold rainy night and welcome the chilling drops that plunk down on me and mix with my hot tears. I keep telling myself it’ll be okay, because I know it will be. I have to believe in that.