Dying Wish
Page 12
“Okay. Now tell me more about Elijah.”
“He basically told me how much he cares for me. I’m not going to rush into anything, but I think I’m willing to give him a chance. I just really hope I don’t get my heart broken by him.”
Mom leans over and embraces me in a tight hug. “You’re going to get your heart broken a lot of times before the right guy comes along.”
I exhale a frustrated breath, hoping her words aren’t true. I haven’t suffered a broken heart before, not unless you count my boyfriend in kindergarten. He dumped me for the new girl who started in our class. I can’t even remember her name, now. I was devastated for about an hour, and then I moved on. “I hope I don’t have it broken too many times, Mom. I doubt it’ll ever be whole again once it’s been damaged.”
“Maybe Elijah will be to you the way Dad is to me.” She shrugs her shoulders at me and gives me a sweet smile.
Now that’s daunting, to have a love so large, and so pure that nothing could ever come between you. Mom and Dad adore each other. They’re childhood sweethearts, and I love how much they love each other. Their love is so large, so grand, that anyone who sees them together knows they’re going to live and die together.
God, I want that. I want to be loved, and to love so hard that no matter what, we’ll always know each other’s love will withstand the test of time.
Could Elijah be my infinite?
“Push, Alice, push!” Miss Lauren screams at me. “You’re weak, look at your turn out.” She points to my hips and shakes her head.
I don’t dare say anything to her. Instead I try harder, push myself more. My spine is in so much pain, my feet are killing me and my arms feel heavy and weighted.
“You’re wasting my time!” she yells at me. She walks over to the sound system and turns off the music. I come down off my pointe and slump my shoulders. “If you’re not serious about ballet then get out so I can teach a student who is.”
“I’m trying, Miss Lauren,” I say in a small meek voice.
“Clearly you’re not. Your dragging your heels, your arms are just revolting, and your shoulders . . . what is going on with them? Don’t you know how your body is supposed to be positioned? Do I need to start at the fundamentals again?”
“No, Miss Lauren.” I look to the ground and sweat drips off my face and lands at the tip of my pointe shoe.
She takes a few breaths, and claps her hands together. “You’ll be staying until you get it right. From the top.” Miss Lauren goes over to the sound system and starts the music again.
I count it in, and begin the routine we’ve been working on. I execute my pas de chat perfectly, and when I land I smile to myself, pleased that I nailed it. The routine continues, and when I perform the grand jeté I look over to Miss Lauren whose face says it all. Her mouth is stretched into a thin line, and she’s running her tongue over her teeth.
Man, I’m in so much shit.
She shakes her head, rolls her eyes and turns the music off. “You’re disappointing me today, Alice. What was that back there? You call that a grand jeté, because to me it looks like you’re pretending to be a ballerina. That landing was pathetic, the take-off was abysmal, and the execution . . .” She shakes her head and looks away from me. “I don’t even know what that was.”
The tears welling in my eyes are threatening to fall, but I hold them back. I shove them as far down as I can, and I use that to push myself even more.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. But I go back to my starting position and get myself in first position so I can do it again. I’ll do it a hundred times if that’s what it takes. Ballerinas do not give up; I do not give up. “Again, Miss.”
Miss Lauren’s sour face eyes me up and down. She folds her arms in front of her chest, and raises one eyebrow defiantly at me. “You’re wasting my very valuable time,” she spits toward me.
I straighten my spine, pull my shoulders back and lift my chin. “Again, Miss,” I say with determination.
Miss Lauren’s nostrils flare when she’s angry, and right now they’ve flared so much she looks like a dragon about to breathe fire. “If you don’t get it right, then you can leave my studio and come back when you want to give me a hundred and ten percent.”
Sweat rolls down my back, my body is spent, but I will not give up. “Again, Miss.”
I take position and watch Miss Lauren press the start button to the music.
The first beat of the music fills my body, raising goosebumps on my skin and sending a raging shiver down my spine. I’m born to be a dancer, and no snooty-nosed ballet teacher is going to stop me. I’ll give her ballet. I’ll give her the best damn ballet I’ve ever danced.
The music fills the studio. The glass wall separating the studio and the waiting room has a fine sheen of moisture on it from how hard I’m working. But this just means I need to work even harder. I’ll have Miss Lauren crack a smile even if it’s the last thing I ever do.
The rhythm takes over and I close my eyes, feeling the tempo of the music. Gliding through the air, I push, and keep pushing. When self-doubt starts to seep into my mind, I drive it out of the way and keep going. I nail every element of the routine. Each step more perfect than the last.
When I’m finally done, I look over to Miss Lauren, who’s standing almost stunned beside the sound system. She leans over and stops it before the next song begins; and she walks over to me.
Sweat is pouring off me. I’m trembling because I’ve been dancing so hard that my body has depleted all its electrolytes. She stands in front of me and looks me dead in the eye. She doesn’t smile, she doesn’t give me any indication of how she thinks I’ve performed the routine we’ve been working on. Instead she says five words before she leaves the room, “You passed the advanced level.”
Standing still in the center of the room I look around, shocked and unable to say or do anything. There’s a junior ballet class scheduled in this room after me, and they’re all lined up at the glass looking at me in awe. Slowly I find my feet and go grab my dance bag, getting my drink out of it before I leave the room.
“I want to be like you when I get to be your age,” Simone, one of the juniors says.
“Thank you,” I reply. But all I can think about is the news Miss Lauren dropped on me. I passed my advanced grading. I passed!
Heading over to one of the seats, I carefully peel my shoes off my feet, my toes are killing me, and my big toe is bleeding. “Ouch,” one of the other juniors says when she sees me cringing as I take my pointe shoes off.
“It’s really my own fault. I should’ve cut my toenails last night.”
“You’re so talented,” she says as she sits beside me. “I want to be like you. But I’m not sure I’m cut out for it. I don’t have half the ability you do.”
“Do you love ballet?” I ask as I tuck my pointe shoes into my dance bag.
“More than breathing. But you . . . you’re like a dream out there, and I’m . . .” She shrugs her shoulders and frowns. “Clumpy and nowhere near as good as you.”
“Don’t compare yourself to me. I’ve been doing this since I was old enough to walk. If you love it, then keep going. Keep practicing and practicing and practicing and one day you’ll be even better than me.”
“You think I can be just as good as you?” she asks with enthusiasm in her voice.
“No, I think you can be better.”
Her eyes light up and she smiles. “Wow, thanks, Alice.” She jumps out of her chair, leans over to hug me then runs off to go to her class.
As soon as I slip on my flip flops, I see Mom pull up and beep for me to go out. I run out and jump in the car. “Guess what?” I ask while bouncing around.
“What?” Mom asks.
“I passed!” I yell.
“What did you pass?”
“Mom!”
“What?” she responds clueless.
“My advance level exam. I passed! I didn’t fail.”
“Oh my God, sweetheart, I’m so
proud of you.”
“Thank you.” I sit back in my seat, and suddenly all the pain of today’s lesson has intensified. “Miss Lauren almost killed me today.”
Mom chuckles as she drives toward home. “When doesn’t she? I think we should go out tonight to celebrate. How about you pick the place and you can invite Becky and Elijah if you like, and we’ll all go out for dinner.”
“As much as I’d love that, my body is killing me. Miss Lauren had me do the routine about ten times. My feet are so sore, and my calves . . . Mom my calves are so tight.”
“I’ll draw you a bath when we get home. I still want to celebrate, so how about I order pizza and you can invite Becky and Elijah?”
“Why am I getting the feeling that you really want to suss Elijah out?”
“Maybe because I do.” Mom looks at me sideways, smiles, then turns her eyes back to the road.
“Okay, we’ll order pizza and I’ll give Becky and Elijah a call.”
“Excellent, I’ll call your father and let him know the great news.”
When we get home, I go into my room and send Becky a text.
I passed my advance level and Mom & Dad are putting pizza on tonight. Wanna come?
It takes her about five seconds to reply with:
Awesome news. Told ya you’d pass. Can I crash too?
Yeah.
Cool, I’ll be there after lessons are done.
I then bring Elijah’s name up on my phone and call him. “Princess, how was ballet tonight?” he asks.
“Everything hurts. But guess what?” I ask as I flop on my bed, and raise my legs to rest against the wall.
“What?”
“I passed my advance level. Miss Lauren was putting me through hell, and at the end of my lesson, she told me I passed.”
“Congratulations! Best news I’ve heard all day.”
“I’m about to go for a bath, because my feet and legs are killing me. But, Mom said she’s ordering pizza to celebrate. Do you want to come over?” I hear a groan, then a huff. “You don’t have to if you don’t want,” I quickly try to backtrack. “I mean, it’s no big deal.”
Slowly my heart sinks, because if he doesn’t want to come here, then maybe he is only after one thing from me. Elijah’s been hanging out with me every opportunity possible and I thought he might like this. Maybe it’s been a ploy; the hand holding, the kisses, the sweet things he’s been doing for me. “Don’t worry about it,” I say again.
“It’s not that I don’t want to, but I’m scheduled to work until eight,” he says. “I really want to come, but I have to work.”
Great, now I feel like a terrible person because I automatically jumped to the worst possible conclusion. “Oh,” I say as I swing around to look at the time. “Can you be here by eight-thirty?”
“Um, hang on a minute.” He covers the phone and I can hear him having a conversation in the background. After a moment or so, he comes back on the phone. “I can be there by seven-thirty. I just cut a deal with my Dad. Actually, more like my Mom made my Dad let me take the time off. But I have to put in an extra two hours on Sunday.”
“Really?” I shriek as I swing my legs down and over the side of the bed. “You’ll come?”
“I wouldn’t miss celebrating such an amazing feat with my girl.”
My heart melts and I feel a giddy sensation overtake my body. Smiling like an idiot, I want to get up and do a little happy dance; but I doubt my legs could take any more dancing. “Okay, I’ll see you when you get here.”
“Bye.”
Mom knocks on my door and tells me the bath is ready. I tell her that Becky and Elijah are coming over and Becky’s staying the night.
“Figures,” Mom says as we walk to the bathroom. “I swear, you two will forever be in each other’s lives.”
“Well . . . yeah,” I respond as I test the water with my hand. “Oh, Mom. This feels like bliss.”
“Take your time and relax, I’ll order pizza in about half an hour.” Mom closes the door, and I strip and sink into the bath.
The moment my body hits the warm water, a euphoric pleasure enshrouds me. My God, the water against my aching body is one of the most delectable feelings I’ve ever experienced. It’s so good. The warm water instantly eases all my aches and pains.
My head lolls back and I close my eyes, enjoying the solitude and serenity of the bath. My mind drifts, and is taken back to the moment Miss Lauren told me I passed. A smile tugs on my lips, as does an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction.
There’s a loud banging on the bathroom door, and I sit up blinking not even realizing I’d fallen asleep in the bath tub. “Yeah,” I call drowsily, but my voice deceives me and comes out all croaky—like I’ve just woken up.
“Hurry up, pizza’s almost here and I’m hungry,” Becky yells from the other side.
Man, how long was I asleep? I bring my hands out of the bath to see I’m all wrinkly, and the water has turned tepid, causing cold bumps to cover my skin.
Dragging myself out of the bath, I dry myself off, get changed into sleep pants and a t-shirt and head out to the family room to join my parents and Becky. If I’m being honest, I’m disappointed with Elijah not being here yet, although I understand that he has to work.
“Here she is. The girl of the moment,” Dad says as he comes to hug me. “I’m so proud of you, darling. So damn proud of you.” He kisses me on the cheek then steps back. Holding my shoulders his eyes take me in. “You look tired, but Mom told me how hard Miss Lauren worked you today.”
The moment Dad mentions me looking tired, my body reacts and a drained feeling overtakes me. “She did. But I don’t care how tired I am, I’m just so happy I passed.”
“I knew you could.” Dad winks at me, then Becky barges over and hugs me. Dad steps back and goes to find Mom in the kitchen.
“You’re awesome.” Becky tightens her embrace and kisses me on the cheek. “Damned awesome with a capital A!”
“Thank you. How did lessons go tonight?” I ask about the class she teaches.
“It was good fun. But tonight’s not about me. It’s about my awesome sister and best friend. God, I’m so proud of you!”
She lets go and I head over to the sofa, where I collapse. “Man, I’m so tired,” I say.
“You look it.” Her eyes go to my bare feet and she scrunches her nose. “Damn, I never realized how ugly your feet are,” she says poking fun at me. “Like seriously. Look at your toes.”
“I don’t think any ballerina has ever had nice looking feet. You know, in the olden days, ballerinas danced on their toes. At least now we have the box at the end of the shoe to help support our feet.”
Becky’s mouth turns down as she shudders. “Imagine how ugly their feet would be.”
“Why are we talking about feet?” I sarcastically ask.
“Because yours are horrible.” We’re interrupted by a knock at the front door. I go to get up to answer it, but my aching body protests and refuses to cooperate with me. “I’ll get it, you sit there and bask in the glory of passing your exam.”
Becky jumps up, and when she answers the door I hear whispers and the distinct deep voice of Elijah. Becky walks down the hall first, followed by Elijah, who looks so handsome.
He’s carrying a bouquet of roses as he nervously walks in, adjusting his t-shirt. I stand and go straight to him. He offers me the flowers, but doesn’t say a single word to me. “They’re beautiful, thank you,” I say as I take the flowers from him and place them on the coffee table.
“I’m so proud of you, princess. I knew you could do it,” he says. “I never doubted it, not for one moment.”
I can’t help but throw myself into his arms where he reciprocates by pulling me close to his body. He breathes in and a low vibration rumbles from deep inside his chest. “You smell so good,” he murmurs.
“I only got out of the bath about fifteen minutes ago.”
He buries his nose further into my hair, and smells deeply again. �
��It’s just you, princess. You always smell so good.”
This time it’s me tightening my arms around him.
“Excuse me, you two aren’t the only ones in the room,” Becky announces.
We break away from each other, but I reach to hold Elijah’s hand. His face is flushed red, and he looks embarrassed because my Dad walks out of the kitchen with Mom. “Elijah, it’s nice to see you again,” Mom says as she comes over to hug Elijah.
“You too, Mrs. Brackman.” When Mom steps back, Elijah goes over to my incredibly wary Dad and he holds his hand out to him. An eerie stillness fills the room and all eyes are on Dad. “Mr. Brackman,” Elijah says. “Nice to see you again.”
Dad’s eyes go to Elijah’s extended hand, and I hold my breath, waiting for Dad to take it. Finally, Dad reaches for Elijah’s hand and shakes it. “You too, Elijah,” he says in an icy-cool tone.
They know who Elijah is. We’ve all lived in our small town for so long you get to know the entire community.
I swallow the lump in my throat, and Becky grabs onto my arm. “Whoa, intense,” she whispers in my ear.
The entire room is quiet . . . too quiet. Poor Elijah is standing stock still while Dad glares at him. Mom finally breaks the tension by saying, “I’ve ordered pizza, it should be here any moment.”
“I’m starving,” I say.
“Me too, I think I can eat half a pizza on my own,” Becky adds.
“You always eat half a pizza on your own,” Dad says to Becky and turns his head to look at her. Becky gives Dad a wide smile and shakes her hips at him. In return, Dad rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You’re going to eat me out of house and home, Rebecca.”
“I’ll try not to, but I am a growing girl. I need my sustenance, and what better way to get it than through pizza?”
Dad groans and playfully smacks Becky lightly on the back of the head. “Seeing as you’re eating all my food, go pour me a drink,” he commands.
“Only because you’ve asked so nicely.” She reaches up on her tiptoes and gives Dad a kiss on the cheek. Dad huffs and shakes his head again. “That girl,” he mutters.