by Vera Quinn
It wasn't. She'd been away too long. Her moves were clumsy and uncoordinated. The ankle didn't move and flex the same way as a natural joint would, making each step and turn more of a trial than it should be as she tried to adjust to the new way her leg worked. Each time she stumbled or fell, Julian was right there with words of encouragement. He'd lift her up, metaphorically dust her off, and urge her to try again.
The first time she completed a pirouette of sorts, modified for her new stance, he swept her up in a hug, spinning her around in shared happiness. As their eyes met, she felt something stir inside of her that she hadn't felt in a very long while. Cheeks flushing, she bit her lip as she hastily stepped away, covering the motion by bending, pretending to adjust the straps holding the lower half of her leg in place. It was the exhilaration of the moment, surely.
She'd never seen Julian as a romantic partner, as she firmly believed in keeping work and personal life separate. She'd seen the pitfalls and explosions that happened when people mixed the two. Entire shows had to be re-worked sometimes to avoid two bickering cast members from being paired together. It was a hassle for everyone involved. Due to that, she'd firmly cast Julian in the role of work partner and had always relegated him as such.
Marie couldn't deny that he was attractive. His lean body was made for the work they did— lithe and muscular. His dark hair was slightly longer than his chin, giving him a roguish look that she adored, but her favorite feature was his eyes. Bright green, they'd dazzled her the first time they'd danced. They continued to, to this day. She always told him women would pay top dollar for contacts modeled from his eyes, but he laughed her off.
She always felt that's what she liked about him the most, that even though he was the premier danseur, the primary male dancer to her prima ballerina status, he was forever humble. Glancing at him from under the shield of her hair, she sighed softly. Truthfully, she'd always had a bit of a crush on him but had forced it down due to their partnership at the Theatre. Did it even matter now?
She was under no illusions. Julian was doing this to get her out of the house, to get her back into the world of dancing that she loved so much. This was to help her get stronger, to begin to train again. She was never going to be able to dance like she used to. Roles like Gisele, Odette/Odile, and Aurora were likely far beyond her now. If she was just doing this for fun, nothing would impact her career. Her career was already gone, really. She just had to accept it.
Shaking her head at her foolish thoughts, she moved back to the barre, beginning another round of exercises. Why in the world would Julian ever choose her, when she could offer nothing in return? He'd be paired with a new prima, and she'd have to figure out where she went from here. Julian deserved someone who could accompany him to events, who could stand tall and proud for him. She was no longer that person, as much as she wished she could be.
As she finished her exercises for the day, he seemed to notice the change in her mood. When he tried to get her to talk about it, she brushed his concerns aside, explaining that she was just tired from the over-exertion. It wasn't strictly a lie, she had been pushing herself a bit too much, too fast. Marie had wanted to prove to herself that she could do it, that she could dance, at least for herself.
She could, but it wasn't like it used to be. She no longer felt weightless and light as air. She was no longer graceful and elegant; her body no longer simply breathed the music like it once had. Everything was a struggle. Marie knew it would get better, might get easier, but it was hard to take a step back and realize just how much you'd lost.
Marie began training in earnest once she could safely do so without constant assistance. The foot was still giving her issues, but she'd convinced the prosthetist to experiment. He'd come in a few times with her, adjusting the internal components after watching how it handled as she danced. They'd compromised with a looser joint on the ankle that enabled it to move better for dancing, but still was sturdy enough for walking and daily tasks.
Eventually, if she wanted to, she could be fitted for a custom one that would allow her to fully go on pointe once more. It would be expensive, though, so it wasn't something she could consider right away. She needed to figure out if she could actually dance on stage again before contemplating that step. Julian was an angel, participating in her training with the same energy he threw into rehearsals as if they were doing an actual show. Weeks later, she'd learned the truth— they were rehearsing for an actual show.
She stared at the glossy program, mouth open, eyes wide. That couldn't be her name emblazoned across the front, titled “La Belle De Ballet Revient!” The Belle of the Ballet Returns. Marie felt sick, dizzy and lightheaded, certain she was going to pass out and hit the floor. Julian had officially lost his ever-lovin' mind.
“Julian, I can't do this. You know I can't.”
He scoffed. “You can. You are the strongest woman I know. Your bravery and courage are no match for the stage, Marie. I know you can do this. Your fans love you and miss seeing you dance. I miss seeing you dance. This? It gives us something to work toward, because you won't be alone up there. You know I'll always catch you if you fall.”
“That's not the point, Jules. I don't want to fall on my face in front of a thousand fans in the first place. It doesn't matter if you're there to catch me when I do. I just... I want to dance, I do. I'm just so scared, Julian. What if I can't do this? What if I try for you, for us, and when it comes right down to it, I can't make myself go on stage? I can't disappoint that many people again. You don't understand how truly horrible this has been for me. I can't get excited to have some part of my life back, only to lose it again.”
“Then we'll do a pre-show, just us and our troupe, or family and friends. We'll test the entire routine, start to finish. If you feel that you can't do it, we'll cancel the show or postpone it until you feel more secure in your balance and abilities. I know you can do it, Marie. I've watched you these past few months since I made you come back here... you've gotten so much stronger, so much more confident. You were made to dance, honey. An illness took a part of you. It didn't take all of you. Don't let it take any more than what was absolutely necessary, any more than it already has.
His words sparked something in her, a rekindling of the fire she'd thought had long burned out. The show had been set for six months out, giving her enough time to decide if she truly wanted to do this, and to fully prepare. It also gave the theatre time to get the word out, to sell advance tickets, and to hype up the event. She threw herself into training, going from twice a week to every other day. After two months of that, she started going back to the studio every day.
She'd learned that he'd tricked her, but she couldn't find it in herself to be angry with him. He'd made it seem like the programs had already been printed by showing her the glossy design. Marie had been upset, but then didn't want to disappoint anyone. It turned out that was just a sample.
She could have turned it down, and no one would have been duped. Well, except her. She knew Julian, though. He'd done it to get her head out of the sand, to get her focused on the fact that if she wanted to live, she had to stop wallowing on what she'd lost, and realize what she still had. Dance was once again becoming the largest aspect of her life. Instead of lying in bed wasting away, she was up early, rushing to get ready and eat something before heading out the door. The wheelchair that she'd relied on for so long sat abandoned in the corner of her room, discarded.
She'd used it as a crutch, as a way to tell herself that she was truly disabled and would never dance again, would never be normal again. As she'd gotten back into dancing, her muscles had begun to strengthen once more, and her balance had improved. Eventually, she'd found using the chair more of a hassle than anything else; it slowed her down and was awkward to maneuver. Once she'd removed that ball and chain, she felt freer than she had since she'd woken in the hospital to learn she had cancer.
Marie felt a little bit normal again, if that were possible. She was back in the dance wo
rld, with her troupe and her friends. She was rehearsing for a show, just like she used to do. Things had changed, but some things remained the same.
That wasn't to say everything was easy. The routine was modified to avoid poses and moves she couldn't do, which was a struggle as her mind and body wanted to do them— her leg just wouldn't cooperate. Two months in, she fell, the straps pulling off so violently as she hit the floor that she had burns from the Velcro fasteners across her skin. There was no time to recuperate, so she'd had to add extra padding to the support and deal with the pain until it healed.
Julian, as promised, was at her side the entire time. When he wasn't dancing with her, he was standing beside her, encouraging her and providing support. Every time she made a move, she knew he was right behind her. If she slipped or stumbled, Marie knew she'd fall into waiting arms that would protect her from injuring herself again.
“C'mon, la belle. Let's go grab a bite to eat. You've overworked yourself plenty enough for one day. My treat.”
Hearing his voice as she unlaced her slippers to put her tennis shoes back on, she glanced up, lips twitching as she spotted him in black dress slacks and a light gray button-down shirt that made his eyes gleam. He was abnormally dressed up for just leaving a rehearsal. “You look like you're going on a date, Julian, not just taking me to eat. Bit overdressed.”
He smiled then, but for the first time, he looked almost... shy. Her heart began to speed up at that, her mouth going dry. He wasn't actually asking her out on a date, was he? She'd already convinced herself that they would never be anything more than friends. Her mind had become accustomed to the idea and blocked out the thought of them ever finding more.
“I thought perhaps I could run you home so you could change, and then... yes, I would like to take you out to dinner, on a date. If that would be okay? You don't have to, of course, I just thought....”
She interrupted him before he could let his nerves get the best of him, with an answer she hadn't even realized she'd been ready to give. “I would love to have dinner with you, Julian. I'm glad you asked.”
As they drove, Marie found herself inwardly panicking. She hadn't had a date in years. Now, she was going on one with Julian, of all people. What did she wear? What would they talk about? She'd forced herself into looking at him as a friend for so long, had she missed subtle clues from him all this time? Was she being insane and overthinking this? Most probably. Could she stop her brain from racing and thinking of all the ways this could go wrong? Not to save her life.
Once home, she changed, running a brush through her hair before applying a little makeup to make herself look presentable. She made the obligatory deodorant check, switched the tennis shoes for more sensible flats that worked with her prosthetic, and she was ready to go. Marie's stomach felt like a thousand butterflies had taken flight and were battling for room as he was the perfect gentleman, hurrying to take her arm and usher her back to the passenger side of the car.
He'd always done that, but it felt different this time, more formal, somehow. She kept sneaking glances at him when she knew he was focusing on the road, her mind still racing. What in the world was she doing? They didn't have time for this. Not with the show coming up, with her still needing scans every six months to check that the cancer hadn't spread. Marie didn't have time for a relationship. Still, this was Julian, and it was just one date. She could survive that without her anxiety getting her caught up in potential pitfalls. Couldn't she?
Variations
Julian knew her well. The Cantina was her favorite restaurant downtown, as they made their own salsas and cheeses. Nothing was frozen, everything was made as you ordered it. Their handmade white queso dip was addictive, and she always ended up eating far too much of it before the actual meal came. You'd think she'd learn, yet Marie found herself digging in the moment the little salsa bowl was dropped off at the table next to the warm chips.
She'd assumed the evening would be uncomfortable, simply because her mind had thrown up so many mental blocks over the years to stop her from seeing Julian as a potential love interest. Unfortunately, it seemed those blocks had been rickety and infested with termites. At the slightest nudge, they crumbled to dust.
His smile was disarming, and his obvious nerves helped set her at ease. She wasn't the only one out of sorts with the whole thing. She wondered how long he'd been wanting to ask her to dinner but decided it didn't matter. Whether he'd been waiting forever or had considered it once they'd gotten closer after her accident, the end result was the same— he'd gotten up the courage to ask, and she'd worked up the courage to finally say yes.
Instead of being awkward, the date was exceptional. One of the best ones she'd ever had, if she was honest with herself. They talked of performances they'd done and laughed at little jokes they'd shared over the years. They reminisced about friends they hadn't seen in a while, people they'd lost. She learned a bit more about his family after he'd asked how her mom was doing with everything. She hadn't realized Julian had three younger sisters. He had her sympathies.
When it came time to leave, Marie found herself almost wishing they could stay longer, that she didn't have to go home. Switching from dancing partner to potential relationship partner had been easy, their friendship had been so close to begin with. It seemed an almost natural progression that she'd simply ignored for too long. Now, though? She wanted to see where this led.
At her door, she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth nervously. Should she lean in for a kiss? Say goodnight? What was the expected reaction here? They normally hugged, but now things were up in the air. Thankfully, she was saved from having to make a decision when Julian leaned forward, wrapping her tight in his arms. Returning the hug, she went to step back, but froze at the expression on his face. His eyes had darkened, his lips parting as his gaze found hers.
It was almost like a romance movie, where you know in your head that the two leads are going to kiss, but it seems to take forever as they lean forward so slowly that it seems exaggerated for the screen. She could now confirm that it wasn't; sometimes it really happened that way in real life, too. It was like he was waiting for her to get skittish and pull away, giving her the chance to run. She didn't.
Her lips pressed against his, her body melting into him as her eyes drifted closed. The kiss started out gentle and sweet, testing the waters, testing each other's reactions. As his tongue traced her lips, they parted, the soft, chaste kiss slowly building into something with more heat, more intensity behind it. When they finally broke apart, both were flushed, breathing unevenly. Quickly saying their goodbyes, Marie hurried into the house, pressing her back against the closed door.
Things morphed fast. Once or twice a week, they left rehearsals early to have a date night. Marie kept waiting for the other slipper to drop... for them to fight, for something to come up that soured things, for her to see an aspect of him that she didn't care for. It didn't happen. He was a consummate gentleman, polite and kind. Their friendship remained as strong as it ever was, it had just deepened into something 'more'. She still couldn't understand why he was with her when he had his pick of the other dancers who were whole, but she wasn't going to protest too much.
Two months before their big debut, well, re-debut really, he took her to one of the fancier restaurants in town, Goût Divin. She'd looked it up one day after reading about its opening in the paper, curious as to what it meant. It was French for “Divine Taste”. She felt they were a bit optimistic choosing the name before reviews came in, but that was just her. You had to dress up, or you were turned away at the door, so Marie had never gone. When you lived to dance, you spent most of your day in a leotard and slippers or pointe shoes, not exactly high fashion.
“Are you sure we're not going to get kicked out? I mean, I dressed up like you told me to, but I still feel kind of frumpy. This place just screams 'high class' clientele.”
Julian simply laughed, curling an arm around her waist. “You are the furthest thing from fru
mpy, Marie. Stop fussing with your dress, you look amazing, as you always do. The buzz about the show meant I was able to secure last minute reservations, so obviously we're welcome, even if we don't play the role of debutantes perfectly. Chin up, lovely. We're here to have a fantastic dinner. We can people watch and under our breaths, we can make fun of how uncomfortable and stuck-up everyone else looks.”
She giggled at that. Neither of them would dare make fun of anyone else who appeared uncomfortable in their clothes or stuck up, as that was a common misconception about dancers as well. Still, the idea of it was enough to calm her nerves. Julian was quite right... at the height of her career before the accident, people waited in the freezing cold after a show just for a glimpse of her. She deserved to be here as much as anyone else did.
To her dismay, the food was absolutely delicious and lived up to the name. She kind of wanted to be a bit disappointed, to have the name be funny later, but everything they sampled truly tasted divine. They ended up sneaking bites from each other's plates, ordering seconds and thirds of sample portions to try more things, then overeating desserts.
By the time they left, Marie was fairly certain they'd tried at least half the menu, if not more. Their table had been piled high with sampling dishes and platters, the stack beginning to lean precariously. When Julian invited her to his place for a late-night drink and movie, it never even crossed her mind to say no. They'd been dating a few months and he'd always been the perfect gentleman. She was too shy to really make the first move, too ashamed of the way she looked underneath her clothes now. In her heart, though? She kept waiting, wanting, longing for him to take her by the hand and tug her over that cliff of self-doubt she hung on.
Cozied up on the couch, she snuggled into him, his arm around her shoulders as she leaned her head on his chest. The movie was a thriller, something they both enjoyed, but she couldn't concentrate much on the plot. Marie was too focused on Julian, the way he shifted against her, the way his breathing hitched each time she moved. Unable to stand it, she finally reached out, curling her fingers around his.