Beauty from Ashes: Authors & Dancers Against Cancer Anthology

by Vera Quinn

  “I heard that from Krill. I’m sorry that happened to you, but that doesn’t make a difference,” I tell Dra as I stiffen my spine.

  “I know. Everything I said and done is inexcusable. I dishonored you, our home, and our family,” Dra says, looking at his hands.

  “And you, Dra, you let yourself down. I want to forgive you and I am on the road to that exact thing. You will always hold a special place in my heart, you’re the father to my two children. I want us to be able to raise our children without bitterness between us.” I take a breath and calm myself. “You hurt me, and I let you, time and time again. I lost all self-respect. I won’t ever do that again. I have children to raise and I want them to be proud of me. I never want any of this to get back to them. I will protect them at all cost.”

  “You’re protecting me from my bad decisions. I’m a man, Maddie, let the fault fall where it belongs. It’s all my fuckup,” Dra says not looking at me.

  “Every marriage has two people in it. You couldn’t have done half the things that you did if I had had a backbone and stood my ground. Two people, two sides. The easy way out is to drop this all at your feet. I will take responsibility for my part.” I wait a minute and go on. “I am not playing the blame game. I would like for us to be something we never were before, friends. It’s what’s best for our children.” Dra looks at me.

  “I think I would like that. I can never tell you how sorry I was that I wasn’t there when you lost the baby.” I breathe deep.

  “The doctors said I couldn’t have stopped it. I think they were trying to calm me but that is what they said,” I tell Dra.

  “I read things like that happen, sometimes. I shouldn’t have put the stress on you,” Dra says in almost a whisper.

  “No blame game, remember.” I try to swallow, and my throat feels like a desert. “I will always feel love for you, Dra, but I’m no longer in love with you. There’s too much between us and we just don’t work. You need to be you and I want you to be, but I need to be me, too. I want you to go out there and find that special person. Be sure she takes your breath away and then hold on tight. You deserve it.” I feel the first tears slide down my cheeks.

  “I love you, Maddie. I want our family.” The tears aren’t slowing down.

  “Dra, you may feel love for me but you’re not in love with me. If you were in love with me, the thought of another man touching me would have sickened you, the way it did me. I’m not blaming, just speaking from my heart. We both deserve a relationship that sets our blood on fire. We need to let go of the us that doesn’t work and become friends, which does works for our family.” I feel completely gutted but I also feel like a ton of bricks has been lifted from my shoulders.

  “You’re a wise one, Maddie, and if I get off the right path, just kick me back in line.” Dra stops and looks at his feet. “You know Shield has his eyes set on you. Sarge and Shield paid me a little visit before I came here.” I raise an eyebrow.

  “Shield is a good friend and that’s it. Sarge is my brother-in-law. They’re just looking out for me. Don’t get any ideas in that head of yours,” I warn Dra.

  “You keep telling yourself that, Maddie. You’re beautiful and any man would be lucky to have you. I was a stupid bastard for losing you. Are you ready to get this done? I’m not giving up on us. I’m just regrouping,” Dra says with a wink.

  “Let’s do this. Tomorrow is the first day of a new beginning,” I tell Dra.

  The End

  Look for Shield’s story in the next book in my Rebellions 4 Blood MC.

  Fight Like a Girl

  Jaime Russell

  Chapter One

  Ginger - 13 years old

  “Alright girls.” I look up from the floor to see the dance teacher walking into the room wearing her signature black leotards with white tights and her pink ballet slippers. I quickly stand up after I stretched my legs, arms, and neck. “We are having an open casting call for the latest production at the studio. It’s one of the ways we keep the studio running. We like to show the benefactors what we do. We are going to do ballet, hip hop, lyrical, and contemporary. If you have friends that dance, this would be a good chance for them to audition for us as well.”

  I squeal inwardly so no one hears me. I’m on the opposite side of the mirror looking into the classroom. I come in the backdoor of the studio with my dad who is the janitor. He thinks that I’m in the employee lounge waiting for him, but I’m actually in a room that is used for the storage of props. I think it was an old classroom.

  The teacher starts her class off by assigning the different dances that they’re going to learn for the show. There is one group dance that will be lyrical, which is one of my favorite dances to do. My mom was a dancer before she was diagnosed with early onset dementia. My dad loved watching her dance and blames the dancing world for my mom being sick. I know he’s wrong, but I can’t change his mind. The teacher shows us the beginning of the dance. There are some simple ballet motions and adding in some foxtrot salsa is making this dance a lot of fun. I follow the moves as she instructs, but I add my touch with a bit more pop to it. I’m having fun. As the class ends, I gather up my stuff to head back to the lounge.

  “Why hide your dancing?” I jump from the voice coming from behind me. I swallow hard. “You look just like your mother did at your age.” I turn to face the owner of the studio.

  “Mr. Morales. I didn’t think anyone saw me.” I smile weakly.

  “I’ve known for a while now so why are you hiding?”

  “My dad. He doesn’t want me dancing. He thinks that it will hurt me like it did my mom.” I see my dad coming up the hallway. “I’m going to get in trouble if he sees me. I’m supposed to be in the lounge.”

  “I got this.” Mr. Morales winks at me.

  He discovered my mom in junior high and groomed her for Julliard. My dad met my mom in New York, but when she was twenty-seven, she fell during a performance and tore ligaments and tendons in her left leg and ankle. It was a career-ender for her, but I was born three years after the accident. She often joked that I could dance before I could walk and run.

  “Good evening, Charles. How are you?” Mr. Morales holds out a hand to him. My dad looks at me with disgust.

  “I’m good, sir. I hope Ginger isn’t bothering you or the students.” I blush.

  “No. I found her in the lounge and asked her to walk with me. I was waiting for the final two classes to end so I could go home. I was catching up with her. I haven’t seen her in any of the classes for a few years.”

  “Yes, Margo and I thought it best that she focuses on her studies. She’s going to be a lawyer someday.” My dad beams with pride. I want to dance, but I can’t go against him or Mom.

  “We have a showcase coming up and I’d love for Ginger to be in it. She can dance one of her mom’s signature sets.”

  “Really? I’d love to,” I squeal.

  “Thank you but no. Ginger go back to the lounge and work on your homework.” My dad’s stern tone tells me everything I need to know. Tonight is my last night coming to work with him. I’m going back to staying at my house so my great aunt can babysit me. My heart is breaking. I say goodbye to Mr. Morales and head back to the lounge. I sit down at one of the tables and cry. I wish I could talk to my mom. I think I’ll head over to the nursing home tomorrow after school to see her. When Mom got too much for us to care for her, the doctors and my dad told me about this Alzheimer’s ward and how it was best for her. There are no cures for it, but the staff is trained for it. I pull out my phone and start watching my mom dance on YouTube. It’s been almost an hour since I left my dad, so I better get to my homework.

  Dad didn’t talk to me on the way home from work. The only sounds he made were grunting and huffing the whole time I tried to talk to him. When we got home and entered our apartment, my aunt was sitting on the recliner.

  “Hello, Gingy, how are you doing?” she asks, putting down her latest knitting piece.

  “Ducky,” I
mutter as I flop onto the couch. “Mr. Morales asked me to join the showcase and do one of Mom’s dances, but the dictator said no!” I yell when my dad enters the house. My great aunt Ethel is my mom’s aunt. She moved in with us shortly after my mom’s diagnosis. My grandmother had it, and Aunt Ethel took care of her until she died six years ago. Mom got sick about five years ago and has been in the hospital for three.

  “Dancing is not allowed in this house. We discussed this, and it’s final. Ethel, from now on, you’ll be watching her. I can’t trust her. I need to get to bed for my day job.” My dad kisses the top of my head.

  “Why is he like this?” I sniffle, trying not to cry again.

  “He hasn’t come to grasps with your mother’s disease. He’d rather blame everything instead of realizing that it happened to Margo by chance. I have the same genes as your mother, but I don’t have any signs of this disease. Your mom got it quite early, which is rare for someone in their mid-forties. You can’t begin to understand how he’s feeling.”

  “But what about me? How can he not understand what it’s doing to me? All of my memories of my mom are the two of us dancing together. Even when she started to get sick, we still danced.”

  “I know.” Aunt Ethel gets up and pulls me into her arms. “I hope that I can change his mind and keep dancing. Do what you love.” Aunt Ethel squeezes me hard.

  “Thank you, Aunt Ethel. I love you. I need to shower. After school tomorrow, can you take me to see Mom?” I ask.

  “Yes, my muppet. Go get ready for bed. When you get home, we’ll go. I’ll make your mother’s favorite brownies.” I hug her again before my nightly routine of shower, reading, and sleep. I became this overly sensitive girl who is constantly telling or showing others how much, I love and appreciate them.

  The school day was boring, and I thought it would never end. I raced up the stairs to our two-bedroom apartment. I swing open the door quickly to see my aunt sitting on the recliner. She looks worried.

  “Aunt Ethel, are you ready to go? I want to see Mom. I’ve been thinking about her all day.” I drop my bag on the couch. She swallows hard before she starts to sob.

  “Muppet, come sit down.” Aunt Ethel points to the couch. “We need to talk before going to the hospital to see your mom.”

  “You’re scaring me, Aunt Ethel. Did something happen to Mom?” I ask her. My hands are shaking.

  “There was an accident this afternoon.” My aunt sobs as she tries calm herself down. “Your dad slipped and fell at work. He hit his head off of one of the machines. He died en route to the hospital. There was something about a blood clot or something. I blacked out when his boss told me.” I start to sob. My dad is gone.

  “What? How does this happen? What’s going to happen to me now? My dad was my only parent.”

  “I’ll take care of you, muppet.” Aunt Ethel pulls me into her. I’m thirteen years old and Aunt Ethel is in her seventies.

  “Can I go see Mom now?” Aunt Ethel nods, and we quietly go to the nursing home.

  Chapter Two

  Ginger - 19 years old

  I stand outside the dance studio waiting for the students to leave so I can get in there to clean it. I watch through the window in the door as they’re laughing, having fun and enjoying themselves. I would dream every night that I could be a dancer like my mom until my dad died in a work accident. There are posters of her on the walls as she was one of the founders of this dance studio. I still wish most days that I could be in there with them, but I often think that would be disrespectful to my dad’s memory. I notice the dancers are starting to gather up their stuff, so I race away from the door. When I got this job, the director of the dance school said that I need to stay hidden. The director of the studio is the son of Mr. Morales, so he knew my mom. He’s the same age as her and used to be her dance partner. He gave me this job when I needed something flexible for while I’m in college. I didn’t have any money saved up, so I’m going to a community college before heading to law school. I need to talk to my advisor about helping me with my admissions for law school. I need to have a killer essay.

  As the last dancer leaves, I walk into the room to start sweeping the floor. My dad never wanted me to be a dancer, but it’s in my blood and being in this room makes me feel at peace. We often fought about it and I hate that the last conversation we had was him grunting and huffing at me because Mr. Morales wanted me to dance in the showcase.

  I play Say Something by A Great Big World on Spotify. I use the broom as a prop as I replay my mom’s first dance with this studio. I start dancing around the broom with my ballet dance moves. I do a cartwheel that turns into a slide toward the mirror. I take the broom around in a circle above my head as I lean back, letting my head touch the floor. I drop the broom, turning my head to place my right cheek as I spin my legs up and do an acrobatic move. Once I twirl around the room for a few spins, I do a jump in the air stretching my legs into a split before landing on my feet and twirling. I hear clapping from behind me and I open my eyes to see someone standing in the doorway.

  “My grandfather said you were good, but that was pretty spectacular.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize someone was here. I better get back to cleaning.” I nervously try to pick up my broom, but it keeps slipping from my fingers.

  “Wait, please don’t go.” I hear his voice following me down the hall. I’m so embarrassed. “Stop. Ginger, wait.”

  “How do you know my name?” I stop and face him. We are inches apart, and I feel his breath on me.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” he asks me. I shake my head. “I’m Mateo Morales. My grandfather owns the studio.”

  “You’re Matty.” I smile and hug him. “It’s been forever since I’ve seen you. Where have you been?” Mateo would come to Chicago during holidays and my mom would always stop in to see Mateo’s parents.

  “I moved to New York with my parents. After your mom quit dancing, my dad decided to open a dance studio. He’s been working there, and once I was old enough to teach classes, I did. I haven’t been back to Chicago since I was eleven.” Mateo takes a deep breath. His eyes are the same as everyone else when they find out about my parents. The look of sadness.

  “Mom told me about your parents. I’m so sorry, Ginger. Is there anything I can do?”

  “Please don’t tell your dad that I was dancing on company time. I can’t afford to lose this job. It helps pay for my rent and school.”

  “Why are you not dancing? What you did was amazing,” he tells me and I blush.

  “I can’t dance for other people. My dad didn’t allow it before he died, and I would just be hurting his memory.”

  “Ginger, you could only hurt your dad’s memory by doing something that you hate and being miserable,” Mateo tells me. “Your mom loves to dance, what about her memory?”

  “Please don’t pretend you know what my mom loves or doesn’t love. She can’t remember me, so I doubt she would care if I stopped dancing. It was great seeing you, but I need to go. I have a job to finish.” I start to walk away from him.

  “I’m sorry but you have a talent that shouldn’t be hidden!” Mateo yells to my back as I walk back to my cart. I try not to listen to him as I wipe the tears flowing down my cheeks.

  I finish cleaning the studio and I walk into the primary office to clock out. I feel relieved knowing that Mateo isn’t here. I lock up and make sure that everything is shut off. I hear music coming from the studio that I was caught dancing in, so I make my way down there. I stare through the window as I watch Mateo. He’s doing this amazing ballet dance. Mateo is mesmerizing. I swallow hard as I quietly open the door. I slide in and sit on the floor in the back of the room.

  “I see you watching me. Care to join me?” Mateo doesn’t break his concentration. “I’m working on a contemporary dance routine for my advanced ballet class and it’s a duet. I’d love to see how it looks.” Mateo stares into the mirror at me.

  “I’m not a professional so maybe ask s
omeone else.” I start to stand up.

  “Pretty please. It will only take a couple of minutes.” Mateo pouts and I can’t help but laugh. “You know you can’t say no to me.”

  “N. O. But thanks for asking. I better get home. I have an early class.” I stand and start to walk out of the classroom. I stop and turn around in the doorway. “Mateo, it was great seeing you. It was a nice blast from the past. Remember you didn’t see me dancing.” I walk out into the brisk Chicago air and start walking toward my truck. It’s my dad’s truck. It’s an old one even when he bought it, but I like keeping it. It’s like he’s close to me.

  I park my truck in my spot and head into the apartment building. I moved to one of the one-bedroom apartments about two years ago. Aunt Ethel had a stroke and is now at the same nursing home as my mom, so I visit both of them three times a week. I throw my keys on the table next to the door and flop onto my couch. I close my eyes, humming the song that Mateo was dancing to. Why did I say no to him?

  I end up falling asleep on the couch and miss my first two classes. Knowing I’m missing my third one, I decide to go see my mom and Aunt Ethel. As I’m walking onto the floor where the dementia wing is, I stop to see if my mom’s doctor is in. They tell me to go see my mom and she’ll tell the doctor that I’m here. I knock on her door and walk in to see she’s watching television. The rooms are an apartment-style room with a bed, a chair, and a loveseat.

  “Hi, Mom. How are you doing today?” I lean down to kiss her. She’s sitting on the loveseat.

  “Hello, dear. Is it time for lunch?” she asks me as she smiles.

  “No, ma’am, but I did bring you a couple of chocolate candy bars and some magazines for you to read.”

  “Thank you, dear. You remind me of my sweet daughter, Ginger. I named her after one of the greatest dancers of all time, Ginger Rogers.” My mom sighs. “She doesn’t dance anymore. My late husband didn’t like it. He hated me dancing too. I faked an injury, so we didn’t fight anymore.” I never knew she gave it up for my dad.