by E. K. Blair
I take a hard swallow before saying, "Long."
He gives me a squeeze before he unwraps his fingers from around my hand, and we begin to run.
School has been really busy. It's the last week of classes before finals. Aside from work, I have been buried in my books and getting everything wrapped up before the quarter ends. I'm going into all my finals with perfect grades, so I am sure I will still be able to maintain my four point GPA.
I did manage to meet up with Ryan Thursday morning for our run. I was starting to get really stressed out, so the run was just what I needed. Ryan was considerate and let me ramble on and on the whole time about my classes and everything that I needed to do to make sure I was ready for my exams.
But now that classes are officially over until January, I can start to wind down a bit. I only have three finals next week and a studio final. Everyone has learned the same routine, and we will perform in groups of four for our final grading. I have the dance memorized and perfected, so today when I go to the studio, I plan to just work on my solo. Ms. Emerson will be meeting me up there in a little bit to critique what I have so far. I am surprised that she offered to do this for me since she never gives anyone private instruction. So when she offered, I immediately said yes.
Ryan said he would meet me at the studio around four o'clock to grab a coffee before he has to go into work. I shoot him a quick text as I am heading out.
Leaving now. See you in two hours?
I'll meet you in the parking lot.
OK, catch you later.
When I arrive at the studio, Ms. Emerson is already there waiting for me.
"Hi, I hope you weren't waiting long," I say when I walk in and set my bag down.
Walking over to the stereo, she says, "Not at all. I just got here. Did you stretch at home?"
"Yes, but I need to warm my muscles up a little more." The cold temperatures make it hard to keep my muscles loose, so after my pointes are on, I slide on some leg warmers and loose long pants.
"Well then, let's do a little floor work before we begin." She flips on the music, and she joins me in the center of the room as we do a few adagio combinations.
I have never danced alone alongside Ms. Emerson. She is as focused as I am on arm placements and bodylines. We move gracefully together through the movements and repeat the combination a few more times before she asks for my music. I hand her the disc, and she gets the music set up as I take my spot on the floor in fifth position. When I hear the strings, I slowly relevè on my pointes and begin a series of chainès across the floor. I continue through my choreography, and when I get to the peak of my developè, I begin spotting my head as I go into a variation series of fouettès. I hear Ms. Emerson beating the counts by loudly clapping her hands. When I come to the end, all she says is, "Again." She clicks the remote, and the music cues back up.
I repeat my steps, and I focus in on the movements as I hear: "I need more, Candace...Hit that position, and hold!" CLAP CLAP CLAP "Piquè! Piquè! Come on! I need more from you!" I hear her stern voice through the loud music and follow her commands. When I come to the end, she repeats, "Again."
We go through this process countless times before taking a break only to continue repeating this routine over and over. I keep pounding out the moves harder and harder, but she continues to yell and demand. We do this for over an hour, and I begin to grow exhausted when she shouts, "Again!"
The music repeats, and I go through the steps over and again. "Pick it up, Candace! Hit! Hit!" She claps the counts loudly and continues, "I'm not feeling it! Come ON! Feel it! Watch that port a bras. Demi second, make it strong!" I focus on her commands, trying to keep my emotions tight, although I feel like I'm at my end. She's relentless. "Again. Last one," she says, and she starts the music again.
"This time...feel it, Candace. Really feel it. Let it out."
I nod my head and silently take my position again as the music pounds through the room. Making my way through the steps, my toes are aching, but I push through again. I can hear the frustration in Ms. Emerson when she yells over the music. "Feel it, Candace! You're dead behind the movements...Make that spotting stronger!" CLAP CLAP CLAP "Hit those fouettès...Smooth out that demi right there. I'm getting nothing! Feel, Candace!"
She shuts off the music, and I stop, standing in the center of the floor when she walks toward me.
Speaking softly, she says, "Whatever walls you have built this year, you need to break them down. I'm getting nothing from you. You feel nothing."
"Yes," I say breathlessly as I nod my head.
"We spoke about this earlier, but I'm not seeing any changes. This is a powerful piece of music. In my opinion, the best piece of all the girls, but you're wasting it. Whatever this is...fix it."
"Okay." And before I can say anything else, she turns to leave.
When the door closes behind her, I let out my pent up frustration and scream through my clenched teeth. Ripping off my pointes, I throw them hard across the room. I lie back on the floor, taking a few deep breaths and feel the tears welling up. My emotions are on edge after being so harshly berated for the past two hours. I squeeze my eyes shut and feel the tears as they roll down my temples and into my hair. I throw my arm over my head and continue to breathe in and out slowly.
Letting a few minutes pass, I grab my things and leave. I just want to go home, shower, and try not to think about this disastrous rehearsal. I slam the door open when I walk out, and I'm shocked when I see Ryan leaning up against my car. Shit! I completely forgot that he would be here. Quickly, I wipe the tears off my cheeks and try to pull myself together fast. But before I can start walking, he's standing in front of me with both hands cupping my face.
"What happened?"
"Nothing, honestly. Just a tough rehearsal." My voice comes out wobbly, and I hate that.
Ryan stares down at me with a clenched jaw. Taking his thumbs, he wipes my damp cheeks. The tender action breaks my strong façade, and I fall into his chest allowing the comfort of his arms as they wrap around me. He cradles the back of my head with his hand the same way Jase does when he hugs me, but this feels different. His hold is strong and tight, and I let myself soften into him. Aside from Jase and Mark, there is no one that I ever let touch me like this. I know it isn't much, but it's difficult for me. Being in Ryan's embrace feels safe, so I wrap my arms around his waist as we stand in the empty parking lot.
When I start to pull back from him, he asks again, "Are you sure you're okay?"
I nod my head, uncertain of how my voice might sound.
Ryan takes the bag off of my shoulder and drapes his arm around me. "Come on," he says as he starts walking me to his jeep.
I don't ask where we are going, and honestly, I'm too worn out to really care. He helps me into his car, and when he closes the door, I rest my head against the back of the seat and close my eyes. Ryan doesn't say anything; he doesn't even turn on the music as we drive. It's only a few minutes later when the car stops in front of his loft.
When we get upstairs, I sit on the couch in his living room while he gets me a bottle of water from the kitchen. He sits down next to me, and I gulp the water down quickly.
"Feeling better?"
"Yeah, I'm sorry. After being yelled at for two hours, I just..."
"Don't worry," he says as he puts his arm around me and draws me closer to his side.
Leaning my head back on the couch, I say, "No...It's embarrassing."
"Don't let it be," he says.
"Can I ask you a huge favor?"
"Anything."
"Do you have dry shirt I can change into? I've been dancing for the past few hours, and I'm sweaty and stinky."
He laughs at me and says, "You don't stink at all actually."
"Liar."
"I'll be right back." I watch Ryan as he head up the stairs, to what I presume is his bedroom.
"You need socks?" he yells down.
"Please. It's cold," I say.
When he comes b
ack down, he hands me his clothes and shows me to the guest bathroom. "Thanks. Just give me a few minutes."
"Take your time."
I turn on the faucet and wait for the water to run hot. I open the linen closet and find a washcloth. When I take off my clothes, I wet the washcloth and freshen up as best as I can. I slip on his old UW shirt and a pair of his pajama pants, leaving my dirty clothes folded on the side of the sink. His clothes are huge on me, and I have to tug on the ties of his pants to cinch up the waist and rollup up the waistband several times, but the pants still drag on the floor.
Walking back into the living room, Ryan is sitting back on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV. I sit down next to him, and he grabs the bun that is still secured on the top of my head and laughs. "This is cute," he teases me.
I swat his hand away. "Whatever."
"Come here," he says, and I lean back on the couch with him. "So, what happened?"
"I have this tough piece of music, and I'm having a hard time connecting with it. My instructor keeps telling me what I need to fix, but I don't really know how. It's frustrating. I can perfect my moves, but I don't know how to get into this piece."
"So she just bashed you the whole time?
"It's how she is. But the fact that she even came in to work with me is unheard of. She's extremely stern, but she's only trying to help me."
"I didn't like seeing you upset."
Looking up at him, I say, "It's not a big deal, really."
"I didn't like it." He says this intently as he looks down at me, and I have to look away from him because when he says things like this, it makes me feel too much. I know Jase likes Ryan, but the other night Mark had mentioned that he has a bit of a reputation for hooking up with random women. It's hard for me to picture him that way because I don't see him like that, but at the same time, it makes me feel like I should be even more cautious around him.
"You want that cup of coffee?" he asks, and I am pulled out of my thoughts.
"That'd be great, I'm still really cold."
"There are some blankets in the trunk by the fireplace," he tells me as he walks into the kitchen. I hop up and grab a large blanket, wrapping it around me before I sit back down.
"How do you take it?" he asks from across the room.
"One sugar and really blond."
Ryan hands me my mug and sits down next to me with a grin. "You getting warm?"
"Trying too."
He picks up the remote and turns it to TCM. I shake my head and laugh at him.
"What's so funny?"
"You. I don't know anyone who watches the classic movie channel, aside from you."
"You want me to change it?"
Pulling my feet up on the couch, I say, "No, it's fine. I'm only teasing you."
He turns up the volume and we sit back and watch 'The Blue Dahlia.' He knows I'm only half paying attention because every now and then he will make commentary to keep me up to speed.
By the time the movie ends, Ryan has to get ready to go to work. I grab my clothes from the bathroom, and we head downstairs to his jeep. When he pulls in the studio lot, he asks me to come out tonight. When I tell him that I can't, he doesn't push.
"I'm sorry, but I'm just really tired and will probably go to bed early," I say. I know Mark's band has become the regular Saturday night house band and that Jase is often with him, but the thought of being in a crowded bar, and possibly crossing paths with Jack, is too much for me to think about. "Plus, I have the early shift at work tomorrow."
"Your boss doesn't strike me as the type who would mind if you came into work a little hungover," he jokes.
"You're probably right about that, but I've never drunk enough to have ever been hungover."
"Never?"
"Don't act surprised."
"I'm more relieved," he says
"I'm not even going to ask why. But, thanks for today."
"Any time."
"Tell Mark and Jase I said 'hi' when you see them tonight, okay?" I open the door and hop out of the car. Looking back at him before I close the door, I say, "Thanks again for being there today. It probably would have ended up being a crappy day if I just came home."
"Thanks for letting me be there," he says.
I close the door and get into my car.
When I arrive home, Kimber is sitting in the living room flipping through a magazine as I walk in.
"Hey," I say.
Looking at the clothes I'm wearing that are entirely too big, she asks, "What are you wearing?" I'm surprised that she is speaking to me.
"Oh, um..." I stutter as she nods her head. By the look on her face, she seems annoyed. She closes the magazine and starts walking toward her room.
"Kimber," I call out after her, but she just ignores me and slams her door shut.
I dump my clothes in the laundry room before I go into my room. I brush my teeth, take my sleeping pill, and slide into bed. I am still wearing Ryan's clothes, and can smell the warmth of his scent with a hint of amberwood as I start to grow tired.
"What are you going to do for the next few weeks?" Ryan asks as we unload some firewood from his jeep. I figured since I was going to be alone for Christmas break, I could at least make it as festive as possible with a tree and wood for the fireplace. I called Ryan to go with me to the tree lot since his jeep is big and could hold everything I wanted to buy.
"I don't know. This is the first year that Jase isn't here with me. We normally spend most of the break together when I am not at my parents'."
"How is that going?"
Stacking the firewood in the garage, I say, "It's not, really. I spoke with my father for the first time since Thanksgiving a few of days ago, and he wants me to come over for dinner Christmas Eve."
"You haven't spoken with them for all this time?"
"No."
We walk out to grab another load of wood. Kimber and Jase both left as soon as they were finished with finals, so I have been picking up a lot of extra shifts at work this past week to keep myself busy. Ryan and I have been spending more time together. He continues to show affection with me by holding my hand or putting his arm around me while watching TV, but that's about it. I'm not sure about my feelings for him, but I'm pretty sure that he sees me as more than his friend. Sure, I'm affectionate with Mark and Jase, but they are non-threatening to me.
When Ryan and I were out getting coffee earlier this week, we ran into a girl that Ryan must have dated in the past. He seemed really uncomfortable talking to her in front of me, but she seemed more than comfortable with him. It didn't make me jealous, but it made me a little more guarded. Ryan is a good-looking guy, so I shouldn't be surprised that he has dated a lot of girls, I'm just not sure what a lot actually means. Part of me doesn't really want to know.
"So, you're going over to see them then?"
"Well, yeah, I don't really want to, but it's Christmas and all. I'm just a little scared about how it will all go. The last time I saw them, we said some pretty nasty things to each other, and I have never gone this long without talking to them."
"What are they so upset about?"
Back inside the house, I pour a glass of wine, and Ryan takes a beer from the fridge.
"Everything. Turns out I've been nothing but an embarrassing disappointment to them all along."
Ryan lets out an irritated sigh as we take our drinks and head into the living room. We sit down on the couch, and Ryan slides his arm around my shoulders, pulling me next to him.
"I'm sorry, babe," he says quietly, and I notice his term of endearment. I try not to act flustered, but he has never said anything like that to me before. It's things like this that he does that confuse me. The friendship that we have has been eased into pretty naturally; I have never questioned him about it, and I find myself liking it.
"Honestly, it's nothing that I didn't already know deep down, but it was the first time that it actually hit me that these were their true feelings toward me."
"I d
on't want you going over there." His statement catches me off guard, and I look up at him. I can see it written all over his face that he's nothing but serious.
"Ryan, I have to. They're my parents."
"I don't care. I don't want you going over there for them to treat you like shit."
Letting out a sigh, I lean back and rest my head on his chest. I'm not sure why this upsets him so much, but I can't not go see my parents at Christmas. "I have to go," I softly whisper. "It's Christmas, and I really should be there. I'm only going for dinner. That's all."
"Then I'm going with you."
I pull away from him and turn to look at him straight on. "What?"
"I don't want you going alone, Candace. I'll go with you."
I shake my head and say, "I don't think that's a good idea."
"Well, I don't think it's a good idea that you're going. So, we can argue about this, or you can just say 'okay.'"
I sit there looking at him, surprised that he would even care so much about this. But, he's right, I don't see him backing down, so instead of fighting him on this, I turn and lean back into him. "Okay."
"And I don't want you spending Christmas alone either, so why don't you come with me. I could use the distraction at the madhouse."
"What?! No. Thanks, but I'll be fine."
"I'm sure you will be fine, but I don't like the thought of you sitting here alone, so you're coming with me."
"Ryan, it feels weird."
"Why?"
"Because. It just does. I know you have a big family, and I just don't want to intrude."
He shifts to face me, and says, "It's not an intrusion. My family isn't like that."
I look down and take a moment before saying, "Okay, but no gifts. It makes me uncomfortable."
"Why's that?"
"I don't know. It just always has. Please," I say in a serious tone.