First Position

by Melissa Brayden

  It didn’t matter, though.

  There was no way for them to move forward.

  Though she could see now that Natalie’s intentions had been honorable the night of the accident, it didn’t matter. That knowledge simply didn’t take away the resentment she carried and couldn’t quite shake. She would forever associate Natalie with what had happened to her whether she wanted to or not.

  “She wants to come and see you.”

  “Not a good idea.” An image of Natalie cradling her face and smiling at her in Rockefeller Center flashed and Ana shook her head against it, shutting out the image. Rejecting it and the feelings that came with it.

  No. Not gonna happen.

  “Have it your way,” Jason said. “I gotta head out. Meeting with Bill about the upcoming season.”

  “Fabulous.”

  “Everyone misses you. Sends their love.” He kissed her on the forehead and headed off into the world that seemed so very, very far away.

  Alone in her room, she stared at the wall and, for the thousandth time, replayed the events of the night that had changed everything.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Let’s try two more,” Eugenia said. Ana stared hard at the physical therapist who had been assigned to her after leaving the hospital. She was not at all feeling it, after already having done the three extra reps Eugenia had talked her into beyond their normal session concluded. This woman was a slippery one and had to be watched.

  “I can’t. My shoulder is killing me.” And it was. With her arm completely out of commission in the T-scope brace for the past few weeks, it took a lot to stimulate the muscles again. After manually forcing the joint to open and her arm to extend—to enormous pain, she might add—they’d done a plethora of rotator cuff exercises that only added to the excruciating factor. Ana was frustrated, hurting, and ready to be done for the day.

  Eugenia dipped her head and met Ana’s eyes. “I need you to push yourself. You’re a fighter, Ana. I can tell.”

  She had been a fighter. That part was true, right up until this accident. She thought back to the last time she’d been in rehab, following surgery on her ankle. Back then, she’d had plenty of reasons to get herself back in prime shape. She’d been highly motivated, pushing herself harder and harder so she could get back to work and back to doing what she loved. But that wouldn’t be happening this time, so what was the point in putting herself through all the unnecessary pain? “I’m sorry,” she told Eugenia. “But I need to go. Same time on Tuesday?”

  Eugenia nodded reluctantly and stood as Ana did. “Don’t forget your daily heat wraps. Let’s stimulate those muscles and get them working again.”

  “Will do,” Ana said halfheartedly on her way out the door. On the brighter side, all these weeks away from dance had moved the pain in her foot from astronomical to manageable. The irony was something she was trying to push past.

  She glanced at her watch. If she hurried to the train, she could maybe beat the work rush of people who were out in the world doing things. Unlike herself.

  The information slashed at her, the sting of her new fate still so very raw.

  Everything felt different now. She felt different. Life did. So much of her identity had been tied to ballet. Now that she was removed from it, she wasn’t sure how to exist anymore. Her purpose, a concept she ruminated on often, now eluded her.

  When Ana arrived home to her apartment building that afternoon, she searched for her keys with her good arm, focusing on the newly difficult task, which was why she didn’t notice Natalie exiting her own apartment and heading quickly down the hall until their near collision.

  “Whoa,” Natalie said, pulling up short. “I’m sorry I…” The words died on her lips when she raised her gaze to Ana. “You’re home.”

  “Yeah. A couple days now.” They’d been bound to run into each other sooner or later; they lived across the hall. Still, Ana hadn’t been fully prepared for the impact of seeing Natalie again. Right there in front of her. Big green eyes. Hair pulled back in a ponytail. Dance bag over her shoulder.

  “How are you?” Natalie asked.

  “Better. Thank you.”

  A pause.

  The uncomfortable kind.

  “I called the hospital too see if I could stop by, but—”

  “I said no. Yeah, I know. Just…wasn’t a good idea.”

  Natalie nodded, but her eyes were sad. “I…understand.”

  Ana gestured to her door with her head. “I guess I better…”

  “Right. Of course.” Natalie headed down the hall, before pausing and turning back. “For what it’s worth, Ana, it’s really good to see you.”

  Ana nodded, swallowed against the onslaught of emotion, and let herself into her apartment. Once inside, she leaned against the door and let it come. The sharp tightening in her chest, the tears that touched her eyes, and the pang of longing for everything that once was and would never be again.

  There was no going back in time.

  Don’t give it that kind of power, she reminded herself. She gave her head a determined shake and harnessed what strength she had to move past it.

  Forcing herself to focus, she dropped her keys on the kitchen counter and checked for messages. Nothing. But really, what messages would there be? Friends calling to check up on her? Nope. The initial wave of well-wishers had all returned to regularly scheduled programming. They’d gone back to their lives. A job opportunity? Unlikely. The extent of her recovery was still very much in the air and no one knew where her head was. She was on the no-call list as far as the dance world was concerned, leaving her adrift on her own, with no real clue how to fix it. Her father had reiterated his offer to bring her out to Miami, giving her a chance to recuperate in the sunshine, which he swore had healing powers. But he looked at her differently now, too. He had to. She didn’t carry the potential to do great things in the ballet world anymore, the way he always dreamed she would. The last time she’d seen him had been in the hospital. He’d smiled at her, but his eyes carried sadness, a sadness she’d placed there.

  Her life felt like a bad dream she couldn’t wake up from.

  *

  Ana found that January and its dreary bluster was the perfect companion to her mood of late. She’d been in the stupid brace for over three months now and counting the days until she was free of it. Another four weeks according to her doctor, though her physical therapy would persist a bit longer. But for Ana, the world had lost its color, and the edges of life had dulled into a boring gray mass.

  She turned another page in her Better Homes and Gardens magazine and stared uninterested at the page. Apparently, blue was making a comeback. She hadn’t been aware of its decline, but then she’d had other things to concentrate on. Now she could focus on things like blue and its phoenix-like rise from the ashes. Go blue, she thought blandly, just as a loud series of knocks stole her focus. Who in the world could that be? she wondered.

  More knocking. Incessant knocking.

  “Open up in there, you ridiculous rock star!” said a voice Ana recognized as Audrey’s.

  “We have Champagne, and damn it, we’re not afraid to use it.”

  Helen was with her, Ana noted, from the second voice. Confused, she pushed herself from the couch and opened the door to investigate. What she found was that it wasn’t her door being beaten down, but rather Natalie’s.

  “Congratulations!” the friends shouted just as Natalie swung open her own door. She was smiling widely and holding her hands up, palms out.

  “You guys are awesome!” And that’s when she noticed Ana. “Hi,” she said, her smile dimming a tad.

  “Hey. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just heard the noise.”

  Audrey and Helen turned and smiled at Ana. They’d visited her in the hospital, but seemed happy to see her standing there.

  “Ana!” Audrey practically shouted. “Toast with us!”

  “What are we toasting?” she asked absently as Helen wrapped her arm gingerly
around Ana’s shoulder and ushered her into Natalie’s apartment.

  “We’re toasting Natalie’s fantastic success,” Helen said.

  “She booked Elevation for the four weeks Jenna McGovern is out.”

  “She did?” Ana asked. “You did?” she repeated, turning to Natalie.

  “I did.” Natalie met her eyes. “I got the call this afternoon.” She turned to her cabinet and pulled four glasses as Audrey opened the Champagne with a pop. Given everything that had transpired in the past six weeks, it somehow felt wrong for Ana to participate in the toast. As if she didn’t belong there among this group of dancers. At the same time, it felt cold to back out of the apartment now. Then there was a third part of her that was actually happy for Natalie, as strange as that somehow felt.

  “To Natalie and her kick-ass success,” Helen said, raising a glass.

  “Cheers,” Audrey echoed.

  Ana touched her glass to the center of the glasses and sipped lightly as Audrey and Helen peppered Natalie with questions. It seemed she’d met with one producer, danced for two others, and on Jenna’s recommendation was offered the four-week stint.

  “Jenna was right,” Natalie told them. “They want to run a whole ad campaign surrounding City Ballet. Because it’s good PR for the company, Bill is willing to give me the time off and collaborate with Elevation on marketing.”

  Helen nodded. “So you start rehearsal…”

  “Monday for three weeks. It’ll be a crazy-fast turnaround. I’ll do the four-week run while Jenna’s away, and then we’ll see.”

  “We’ll see about what?” Audrey asked.

  Natalie searched for an answer. “What’s next, I guess?”

  “You go back to City Ballet,” Ana said before thinking.

  “Or…maybe I don’t. I’m in the midst of my second ballet with City and I’ve learned an enormous amount, which has provided me with this awesome opportunity. But I’m not sure that holding on to classical ballet is the best career move, given where I want to be.”

  “But the opportunity,” Ana said, shocked Natalie didn’t recognize what she had. What she herself would give anything to have back.

  “Is huge. I get that. And you know what? Maybe you’re right.”

  “You don’t have to say that on my account.”

  “I’m not.” Natalie passed her a reassuring smile.

  “What about your contract?” Helen asked.

  “I’m pretty confident they’d release me entirely if I asked.”

  Ana set her glass on the kitchen counter as her emotions blew past her logic. “I better get home. Long day.” A total lie, but she didn’t want to dampen the high spirits and she wasn’t very good at celebrating these days. “Congratulations,” she said to Natalie before fleeing the scene.

  *

  Natalie stared at the door as it closed behind Ana.

  “Give her time,” Helen said. “She’s happy for you underneath it all.”

  “Yeah,” Natalie said, not at all convinced, given Ana’s situation. She hadn’t meant to upset her, and maybe the overt celebration in her presence had been insensitive. Underneath it all, however, was the fact that she missed Ana desperately and remembered a time when it would have been her and Ana celebrating together.

  “You must be beyond excited for this,” Audrey said from her spot on the couch. She lay on her back staring up at them.

  “I am. In fact, I’m not sure it’s fully sunk in yet.” The truth was that while she was happy, it didn’t feel the way she once imagined it would. But then again, since Ana’s accident, everything about the way Natalie saw the world had shifted. The luster had dimmed considerably.

  “As for returning to City after the gig, I completely identify with the struggle,” Helen told her, topping off her Champagne. “This might be my last season.”

  “You’re leaving?” Audrey said, sitting up abruptly. “You can’t.”

  Helen held up a hand. “Nothing is set in stone yet. I’m just examining my options.”

  Natalie set down her nearly untouched glass and considered this. “I had no idea. What gives? I thought you were bound and determined for ballet superstardom.”

  “Oh, I am,” Helen said. “I’ve just been thinking a lot about what you said the first day we met, about dancing for yourself. As much as I love the art form, the classical world has never been a comfortable fit for me.”

  “And why is that?” Audrey asked.

  “Well, first of all, it’s ultraconservative.”

  Natalie nodded. “True.”

  “Second of all, I’m black.”

  “Shut up,” Natalie said, feigning mystification.

  “Funny. But I am.”

  Audrey placed a hand over her heart. “I, for one, am glad you confided in us.”

  Helen kicked the couch beneath Audrey. “The truth of the matter is that I’m tired of a bunch of old white guys deciding that my body isn’t right for classical ballet. And I’m not singling City out, because they’ve been supportive. It’s the people who come with the institution: the reviewers, the patrons, and the armchair commentators. It’s the same message I’ve heard since I was ten, that my legs are too muscular or I don’t fit the typical mold. It’s all a bundle of excuses. I’d rather take the power right out of their hands and be my own kind of pioneer. Dance my way. Maybe that’s ballet, maybe it’s not. But it’s going to be my choice. Fuck those guys.”

  Natalie grinned. The longer she knew Helen, the more she adored her. “I like the way you think.”

  “So the point of this little pseudo confession is if you ever run into a project that sounds like it might fit, please give me a call.”

  “You’re on. And trust me, I will be on the lookout. We would be kick-ass together on something collaborative.” The two touched their glasses together in the sealing of the unnamed pact.

  “Am I chopped liver over here?” Audrey balked.

  “You can come, too, Audrey,” Natalie told her. “Though I feel like you’re on the rise with City.”

  “Oh, I’m not going anywhere. I just enjoy being desperately wanted.”

  With that Helen tossed a pillow her way, smacking her square in the face.

  “Or clobbered by a pillow. Either will do,” Audrey said, as the group dissolved into celebratory, Champagne-laced laughter.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Natalie’s fourth rehearsal for Elevation had come with a hell of a learning curve. She’d always prided herself on being a quick study when it came to picking up complicated choreography, but this show fell into another category entirely. She wondered how in the world Jenna had mastered these steps and where she found the stamina to execute them each night when so much of the show was simply her.

  Feeling a little demoralized, she exited the elevator en route to her apartment where she dreamed of ice, her couch, a hot meal, and maybe a bath before bed. The jar of peanut butter that rolled her way and crashed against her foot was an unexpected encounter. She scooped it up curiously and raised her gaze to the hallway, taking in the chaos. Groceries, lots of them, littered the space. A series of cherry tomatoes dotted the carpet, cans of green beans, corn, and a gallon of milk. With her injured arm still in the T-brace, Ana held a ripped grocery bag in her good arm and sank to her knees to pick up the casualties.

  “Here, let me help,” Natalie said, joining her on the floor.

  “That’s okay,” Ana said, her cheeks dusting red in embarrassment. “The bag broke just as I was almost home. I can do it.”

  “You can,” Natalie told her. “But we can do it faster together.” In actuality, Ana would have had a difficult time on her own, as the broken bag was now entirely ineffective and she was working one-handed. “Give me your key,” she said.

  Ana, still struggling to wrangle the groceries, reluctantly did so. Natalie opened the apartment, piled cans from the hallway into her arms, and brought them inside to Ana’s kitchen counter. When she returned to the hallway, there were only a few scattered to
matoes that she easily tracked, rescued, and placed back in the carton Ana held open.

  “This was embarrassing. I’m sorry,” Ana told her, still not readily meeting Natalie’s gaze. “The stupid bag, and then my arm.”

  “Hey, it’s okay. If dropping groceries was the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to you today, then you came out way ahead of me.” For the first time, Ana looked at her and Natalie felt her stomach tighten when their eyes locked. “I won’t keep you.”

  As Natalie made her way to the door, she heard Ana sigh as if surrendering to an unseen foe. “Is everything okay?”

  “It will be. Difficult rehearsal today. I guess maybe I bit off more than I can chew with this show.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Ana surely didn’t want to hear about her rehearsal troubles, given how she felt about Natalie and her relationship to the accident. “I’ll let you get back to…groceries.”

  “All right. Thanks again,” Ana gestured loosely in the direction of the hallway, “for the assistance.”

  “Anytime. I’m right through that door if you need anything.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m not just saying that, Ana.”

  Ana’s eyes found the countertop and stayed there. “I know.”

  “Good night…I guess.”

  “Yeah. Good night.”

  It hadn’t been a horrible exchange, but being near Ana now, given everything, was harder than Natalie could have ever predicted. It was Ana, but not in the way she knew Ana. She was responsible for that, she reminded herself for the fifty thousandth time. Didn’t mean Ana was any less beautiful to her, even as they stood in that kitchen, or that Natalie didn’t still remember what it was like to fall asleep in Ana’s arms as she drifted off alone each night. It would be a memory she carried with her always, and took out when she couldn’t go on any more without it.