First Position

by Melissa Brayden

  “Where are you coming from? PT?” Natalie asked as she changed from flip-flops to sneakers for her commute to the theatre.

  “Actually, no,” Ana said, and took a seat next to Natalie. “Believe it or not, I’ve been playing the role of assistant instructor.”

  “To?”

  “Twelve- to sixteen-year-olds.” Ana must have caught the look of utter shock on Natalie’s face and took a minute to fill her in on how it all came about.

  “I’m impressed with your father right now. It’s not easy to get you to do anything.” She softened the words with a wink. “And—wait a minute, you’re not wearing your brace.”

  “It goes back on as soon as I head upstairs, but yeah, progress.”

  “I’m glad to see it,” Natalie said genuinely. There was something about Ana this afternoon that had Natalie a little mesmerized. Her blue eyes popped against the bright blue hoodie she wore, and the dance clothes hugged her body nicely. But that wasn’t it. There was the tiniest of glows on her face, reminiscent of lighter times. Natalie felt pulled in by it. “You seem happier today.”

  Ana shook her head. “It’s weird. I always feel lighter on class days. Something about all that artistic potential and the pursuit to get better just gets my blood flowing. It turns out it doesn’t even have to be me doing the pursuing.”

  Natalie, now excited, turned more fully to Ana. “Are you going to stick with it, do you think? Teaching.”

  Ana nodded, her smile growing. “Yeah, I think I might.” And then a thought seemed to occur to her. “I forgot to say congratulations on your opening.”

  “Not a big deal.”

  “It’s a huge deal,” Ana said. “You’re on Broadway.”

  “Right?” She couldn’t help but smile. The fact that the sentiment came from Ana was everything. “Your advice worked. I ate the hippo thing one bite at a time. And now I just get to have a ton of fun up there.” In actuality, now that the show was open and Natalie could breathe, she was on cloud nine, as far as work went. Things only dimmed when she stepped off the stage…

  “Well, the reviews, as far as I’ve heard, have all been stellar.”

  “You’ve read reviews?” Natalie filed that bit of information away for examination later.

  “I heard from Adrienne.”

  “Ah. Well, at least I won’t have to write Jenna McGovern an apology letter after all. It just goes to show you that so much of this business is about being in the right place at the right time. This whole thing only happened because we were—”

  “Having dinner with famous people,” Ana supplied.

  “Right. That,” Natalie said, meeting her eyes. “But it really all comes down to you. This was your connection.”

  “My father’s, technically.”

  “Stop downplaying.” Natalie shook her head and turned to Ana sincerely, slowing the pace of the conversation. “I know you may hate me, and I don’t exactly blame you for that, but none of this would have happened for me without you in my life. So I want to say thank you. For everything. And now I’m going to shut up and get out of here before I get any more sappy.”

  “Wait.” Ana stood. “I need to say something here.”

  “You don’t,” Natalie said. “It’s fine.”

  “Just listen, please?”

  Natalie finally nodded, shoving her hands into her pockets for lack of anything better to do with them. She stared up at Ana, who ran a hand through her hair, seeming to search for the appropriate words. It felt like time stood still, like the whole world stopped, as Natalie waited for what Ana had to say. It mattered that much to her.

  “I don’t hate you, Natalie. I was angry for a while, sure. And things aren’t easy, even now, but I don’t hate you. I couldn’t.”

  Natalie nodded and swallowed back the emotion that crept in at the weighted conversation. Her chest felt tight and she sucked in a breath. They’d never talked about any of it. The accident. The breakup. Not since that day in the hospital where Ana had asked her to leave. “I miss you,” Natalie managed to whisper, allowing herself to go there for the first time in so long. Hearing her words out loud, the emotion overcame her defenses and stripped her of the power of voice. “I miss you a lot.”

  Ana nodded, the pain Natalie felt mirrored in Ana’s eyes. “You better get to the theatre.”

  “Ana,” Natalie said, as Ana ascended the stairs and disappeared into the building.

  *

  Puzzles, the little wine bar in the Village where she and Adrienne had agreed to meet, was bustling by the time their cheese plate arrived. “Thank you,” Ana said to the waiter, as he topped off her glass of white. She turned to Adrienne once they were alone. “This is a cute place. Where’d you hear about it?”

  “My cousin brought me here once. She lives just down the block.”

  “Your cousin has good taste. I’m happy we’re doing this.”

  “Me too,” Adrienne said. “It’s been too long and I’m so glad to see you out and about again. The recovery must be moving along; you’re not wearing your brace.”

  “It’s a supplement at this point. I use it when my arm is tired or in pain, but on the whole, I go without it.”

  “That’s fantastic,” Adrienne said, beaming at her the way only Adrienne could. It was one of many reasons America loved her. “So we’ve covered the teaching thing, which I happen to agree you’d be great at. What about your love life?”

  Ana selected a crostini and a dab of brie. “Nothing to report. I’m concentrating on getting my life back, remember?”

  “Right. And doesn’t that include Natalie?”

  Ana paused at the very direct statement. Adrienne didn’t mess around. “It can’t include Natalie,” she said simply, hoping Adrienne would leave it there.

  “Why not?” Adrienne sat back in her chair and waited as if she had all the time in the world.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Try me. I have a whole bottle of wine here.”

  Ana sighed. Her words came in fits and starts. She didn’t want to relive this. “The night I was in the cab, I had called out of the show, for Natalie. It wasn’t something I wanted to do. I did it for her.”

  “Okay. So…still not following you.” Adrienne sipped her wine. “Wasn’t she just trying to look out for you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But despite that, you blame her for the accident?”

  Frustration bubbled. Why couldn’t Ana explain this logically? It made so much sense in her head. “Not directly, no. But she is the reason I was in that cab.”

  “Because she was looking out for your well-being,” Adrienne said, her tone level.

  Ana couldn’t quite pull off level. “No. Well, yes, I guess, but my feelings for her were so…strong, that I gave into her, to what she wanted me to—”

  “Because that’s what you do when you care about someone, when they matter to you more than anything else.”

  The sigh Ana released was laced up tight with strings of conflicting emotion. “Even if that’s true, when I look at Natalie now, I see the accident. That’s all. I think of the fact that I’ll never dance again, and that she’s still out there, doing what I want to be doing.”

  “So you’re jealous?” Adrienne asked, as if trying to desperately to understand and failing.

  Was she? That seemed…so petty, especially considering she once thought she was falling in love with Natalie. But she needed to be honest with someone. “Well…yes. And no.”

  Adrienne blew out a breath. “I’m going to say this, Ana, and you can do with it what you will. Are you listening?”

  “Yes.” And she was, because Adrienne had always been a strong source of wisdom in her life, and Ana was grateful for that. She valued Adrienne’s advice, especially when she still battled feelings for Natalie that she didn’t know what to do with.

  Adrienne took a moment and smiled at her. “I’ve never seen you radiate the way you did when you were with Natalie. You blossomed and glowed an
d every other clichéd thing in the book that happens to someone when they find that certain person. The one.” She angled her head and regarded Ana gently. “But it’s gone now, that glow. You think it’s because you lost ballet.” She paused. “I think it’s because you lost Natalie.”

  Ana stared at her as the truth of that statement smacked her squarely in the face. She missed dancing a great deal, yes, but she’d found a way to keep ballet in her life. There was no substitute for Natalie, and she missed her—and them—more than words could even express. Nothing felt the same, and it wasn’t because her dancing career had come to an end. It was because she didn’t have Natalie.

  She just hadn’t fully admitted it to herself until that very moment.

  “Am I close?” Adrienne asked gently, dipping her head to meet Ana’s gaze.

  Ana nodded slowly as tears gathered in her eyes. She stared at the ceiling a moment until she found her voice. “So what am I supposed to do?”

  “First of all, you accept the accident for what it was: a horrible twist of fate that’s now a part of both of your histories. Next, you tell her how you feel about her, and you don’t hold anything back.”

  “What if she’s over it? What if she hates me for sending her away? For blaming her?”

  “Then you fight harder, because nothing is more important in life than your perfect person. I can attest to that. Do you understand?”

  “I do.”

  Adrienne reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “So what are you waiting for?”

  It was the fifty-million-dollar question.

  “If I’m going to do this, if I’m going to have the confidence to do this, I need to get some things in order first. I don’t want to be the victim who presents herself in some pitiful plea for—”

  Adrienne stopped her there. “Ana, I’ve never known you to be a victim, but do what you have to do. Just don’t wait too long.”

  Ana took a deep breath, terrified, because what if she already had?

  *

  The music came to a close and the young ballerina finished her variation. The class applauded politely and all eyes were on Ana, as Genevieve had been giving her the floor more and more.

  “That was beautiful, Tracy. Remember to keep your movements fluid as you go. You tend to separate them and we’re really working toward a continuous motion, where one movement seems to melt into the next. Make sense?”

  “Got it. Continuous,” Tracy said, beaming.

  Ana held up her hand and Tracy high-fived her as she took her spot with the rest of the class. This would be the fourth Wednesday night class Ana had dropped in for, in addition to the Tuesday/Thursdays Genevieve had set her up with taught by another instructor. Something about working with these kids gave her a hit of confidence like nothing else. They looked up to her and desperately sought her opinion in a way no one else ever had. Not only that, she got to watch them improve, which was beyond satisfying. But more than anything else, like food to a starving person, she felt a part of it all again, and connected to ballet in a way she hadn’t been in months.

  They moved on to group exercises, and Ana and Genevieve circled through the room, offering insight, adjustments, and tips.

  “Through the toe each time,” she told one dancer. “Keep that phrase in your head: through the toe. See?” She’d worn her warm-ups to class, allowing her to demonstrate for the student who watched with rapt attention. She moved down the line of mostly girls. “Pose. Step through. Pose. Good. That was excellent, Amy, but finish each movement. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

  “Right. I always do that. Thank you, Ana.”

  The eager eyes that looked back at her had a startling effect. These kids were so appreciative and willing to take her direction. Spending time with these dancers made Ana feel needed—God, like a person again, even. She was doing something that was actually of use and she was enjoying every moment of it. It didn’t come with the roar of applause like at the end of a performance, but this new form of gratification was just as potent.

  As was becoming typical, Roberta stayed close during the break, and they chatted about anything and everything until her mother picked her up.

  “So what are you into outside of ballet?” Ana asked, as she moved about the room helping to put it back in order.

  “I’ve always been the quiet kid,” Roberta told her.

  “I’m not surprised. Quiet kids love ballet.”

  “Why is that?”

  She began to stack the chairs with her good arm. “Because it’s a powerful way of expressing yourself without using words.”

  Roberta considered this and grabbed a couple chairs to help the cause. “You’re right. I’ve never thought of it that way.”

  “At least it was for me.”

  “So what made you start dancing?” Roberta asked. “If that’s not too personal a question.”

  “Not so much a what, but a who,” Ana told her.

  “Okay then, who?”

  “My parents were both dancers, and it was sort of expected that I’d be one, too. My earliest memories are of watching them rehearse partnering exercises.”

  “You’re lucky. Were they any good?”

  Ana considered the question. “Most people think they were some of the best.”

  “Ask her what her father’s name is,” Genevieve said as she strolled past, picking up an abandoned water bottle.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Klaus Mikhelson.”

  Roberta straightened and stared at Ana sideways. “You’re funny.”

  “Sometimes,” Ana said, enjoying this more than she usually did. “But not today.” She scrolled through her phone and turned it around to Roberta, who immediately raced to it and stared in awe at the photo of Ana and her father, taken the last time he’d see her dance.

  Roberta pointed at the screen. “You’re serious. He’s your actual dad, not like a friend of the family or fatherlike.”

  “Right. My actual biological parent.”

  Roberta stared at the ground in mystification. “I should probably go put this on Twitter.”

  Ana raised a shoulder. “It’s not that much of a secret, unfortunately.”

  “Still. You were already the coolest person I knew, and that just like tripled, so…”

  Ana smiled as Roberta scampered off.

  “They adore you, you know,” Genevieve said, as they walked out together.

  What a strange thing to hear, Ana thought. Since when did people adore her? “They’re great. Honestly. Thank you for letting me crash your classes. It’s been the best time I’ve had in months.”

  “There’s something to take away from all of this,” Genevieve said. “I like to think you were sent to me by the universe for a reason.”

  “And what’s that reason?” Ana asked.

  “To discover what a fantastic teacher you are.” Ana allowed what might actually be the truth in that sentence to settle over her. “You have so much to give, Ana. You’re knowledgeable and patient and the students think you walk on water because of your résumé. Do you know how inspiring that combination can be to a young dancer?”

  “I think I’m just starting to understand it myself.”

  “I know you’re a bit at sea lately, but I want you to take some time and think about your potential for teaching. I have a hunch you’ve stumbled onto something you’d be really fantastic at.”

  “It’s a lot to take in, but I’d be lying if I said the wheels in my brain weren’t already turning. Thank you for allowing me the chance to explore all of this.”

  “Anytime. Have a great night, Ana.”

  “You too.”

  At eight the next morning, she placed an important call.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “You couldn’t have called at a more opportune time,” Louise told Ana as they walked the wooden hallways of SAB. She found the place eerily the same as when she’d attended as a student. Being back here now had her reeling, like she’d boarded
some sort of time machine. On the other hand, she was thrilled to be back where so many of her formative dancing years had played out. “I didn’t go into much detail on the phone, but Monica Bleeker’s mother had a heart attack, and she’s had to return to Mississippi to take care of her.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that.” She remembered Ms. Bleeker well. Strict. Severe. Both words came to mind.

  “We were, too. She turned in her resignation at the end of last week, leaving the B1s and B2s without an instructor for their technique class. I’ve been filling in, but my schedule is already dense. Official applications are pouring in, but we need an interim.”

  “I’m thrilled to be given the chance.”

  “If all goes well and it’s something you’re serious about, you’re welcome to formally apply for the position.”

  Ana nodded. “I’d like to get my feet wet before making any formal decision. Make sure I’m good at this.”

  They paused at the door to one of the studio classrooms. “You were a fantastic student and a gifted dancer. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were also a well-rounded teacher. You tend to excel at things, Ana.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “We were all devastated to learn of your accident. It almost feels like we were meant to come together this way. As an alum, you know the school and come with an accomplished résumé.”

  It probably also didn’t hurt that she came with the Mikhelson last name, but Ana decided not to point that part out. “So what do we do now?”

  “I’ll get you the curriculum and you can start when you’re ready.”

  “How about this afternoon?”

  Louise looked like she could kiss her. “Even better.”

  Ana placed a mental check mark next to part one of her plan.

  *

  While it had taken her until the last week in the show, Natalie mentally patted herself on the back for getting her turnaround time from the final bow to leaving the theatre down to twenty-two minutes. It really was an impressive record for her.

  “Ms. Frederico, you have a visitor in the lobby,” Trent, the stage door security guy, informed her. “I didn’t send ’em back ’cuz they weren’t on the list.”