If I Can't Have You

by Federica Bosco

  I could hear her screaming at him from outside the door. ‘The next thing I know the milkman will be turning up on the doorstep going, ‘Fancy not letting your daughter go to ballet school, what a bitch! Same again next week?’’

  I was about to put the key in the lock when my phone rang.

  It was Alex.

  ‘Hi Mia! Erm, I’m with Carl and Nina and they wanted to know if by any chance you would like to spend the next weekend at Nina’s parents’ house in Bath.’

  I could hear her laughing in the background.

  ‘Why doesn’t she ask me?’

  ‘Because she thinks you’ll say no.’

  ‘Well she’s right: No!’ What were those two up to now? Where they trying to set us up? This obsession with matchmaking was becoming irritating.

  ‘Put her on!’ I ordered.

  Nina picked up the phone.’Sorrrrry, it was my idea.’

  ‘Well it’s a stupid idea!’

  ‘I know, but it would be so great if you could come. Mum won’t let me go on my own with Carl and it could be fun with the four of us.’

  ‘Sorry, let me get this straight: You’re only inviting me and Alex because otherwise you wouldn’t be able to go?’

  ‘No, no, no, I didn’t mean it like that! I wasn’t going to ask you at first because I thought it would be weird the three of us - for you as well! - but you were also my only chance to spend the weekend with Carl, so then I thought of Alex, and I thought maybe we could all go together.’

  I didn’t know what to say

  ‘Come on, don’t you remember how much fun we had in Bath when we were children?’

  ‘I remember being bored to death while the grown-ups spent all day at the spa, and pretending to be prisoners in a castle! We hated Bath, Nina, and you know it!’

  ‘But it’ll be different now we’re older. The four of us, all together, it’ll be a laugh!’

  ‘Nina, you just want to spend the night with Carl, and you don’t need me for that!’

  I didn’t need this. I had no desire to spend a weekend with Carl making snide comments the whole time.

  Of course, if Patrick had been going it would have been different…

  ‘Mia? Is it really a no?’ Her voice was heavy with disappointment, and I had hurt enough people that day.

  I sighed. ‘Oh fine, yes, whatever!’

  ‘Yesssssss!’ she squeaked in my ear. ‘Mia, you are the best friend ever! Anytime you need help from me, just ask, I’ll do anything I swear!’

  Perhaps one day, I thought.

  ‘Put Alex back on.’

  ‘Sure! Anything you want!’

  ‘Alex? Right. I don’t want you getting any strange ideas in your head. I’m going to Bath to help Nina and I don’t want to regret it, do you understand?’

  ‘Y-yes!’ he stammered.

  ‘Good! That’s all. See you at school!’

  I hung up and went into the house.

  ‘Quiet, she’s back!’ I heard Paul say sharply.

  ‘I just spoke to the milkman and he says you’re a bitch for not letting me be a dancer!’ I said spitefully.

  Paul appeared in the doorway showing his palms as a sign of surrender. I shook my head sadly and went up to my room.

  ‘By the way,’ I added, halfway up, ‘Next Saturday I’m going to Bath with Nina, Carl and a boy you don’t know, and you can’t say no because you won’t send me to the Royal.’

  ‘Now wait a minute, young lady!’ he came back out with his finger raised, looking for words, but he found none.

  He couldn’t stop me from doing anything.

  But I didn’t care about doing other things.

  I had so much homework to do, including several important pieces of coursework. I set to work typing up an essay on Shakespeare, using an ancient PC that used to belong to my father and always seemed to crash just as I’d finally thought of something to write.

  After about an hour, there was a knock on my door. It was Paul. It was the first time he had been to my room, but I appreciated the attempt to reach out, particularly seeing as I hadn’t made his life particularly easy since he’s got here.

  ‘Are you busy?’ he asked.

  ‘No, come in, I already know what you want to say,’ I answered, without looking up from the screen.

  ‘Your mother is a very stubborn woman!’ he said, sitting down on the only corner of my chair that wasn’t submerged under old clothes.

  ‘Tell me about it!’

  ‘She’s got it into her head that I’m ‘on your side’, so now she’s refusing to speak to me!’

  ‘She can do that for weeks, wait and see! No-one can stay in a mood like Mum!’

  ‘Weeks?’ he asked, alarmed. Of course I hadn’t really meant weeks, but his worried face was too much to resist.

  ‘Oh yes!’ I said, deadly serious, ‘One time she stopped speaking to me for almost a month. She would only communicate using notes.’

  ‘How did you get her to stop?’

  ‘I just had to give in and do what she wanted. I couldn’t bear talking to the dog anymore.’

  He looked thoughtful.

  ‘Oh, but don’t worry,’ I added, ‘In every other respect she’s an angel! Well, you know, apart from the...thing.’

  ‘What thing?’

  I mimed lifting a cup to my mouth.

  ‘She drinks a lot?’

  ‘Yes, but only grappa and not as often as she used to. I think. Sometimes she hides it in the shampoo bottle .’

  ‘I had no idea.’ He shook his head.

  ‘And she only steals the odd bit from the markets these days. She tends to stay away from the big department stores after that time they made her spend a week in the cells.’

  Paul was shocked. He stared at me in stunned silence with one hand on his chest.

  I burst out laughing.

  ‘Oh my God, Paul, your face!’ I gasped, ‘I’m winding you up, you wally!’

  I tossed him a stuffed animal that hit him in the face.

  ‘You were joking?’ he repeated, not entirely convinced.

  ‘No, she’s actually under house arrest because she killed my father and made him into a pie!’

  I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed so much. Tears rolled down my face, while he shook his head at me, unsure whether to be amused or offended.

  ‘I’m sorry, Paul, I just couldn’t resist it! But seriously, my mum is the best thing that ever happened to you, and that’s no joke.’

  ‘You’re mad, you are! Don’t scare me like that again!’

  ‘But you’re my favourite victim!’

  He smiled, then frowned.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Mia, I wanted to help you.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I didn’t expect it to work anyway, but I appreciate you trying.’

  ‘I’ve never been great at persuading people. I suppose that’s why my ex is getting the house, half my salary and full custody of the kids.’

  ‘That’s terrible! What did you do to her? It was over before you met mum, right?’

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ he replied disconsolately.

  ‘Whatever! Did you shag her best friend?’

  ‘Actually, she cheated on me.’

  ‘Wow, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you leave her?’

  ‘She didn’t want a scandal, and I didn’t want to lose my daughters, so I just stayed and put up with it all, until I thought they’d be old enough to understand…’

  ‘And do they understand?’

  ‘Nope. They think I’m a monster and they won’t speak to me.’

  ‘Aw, Paul! You’re more of a friendly giant than a monster!’

  ‘Strong in the arm and thick in the head!’ he said, with a rueful grin.’My ex is certainly very good at making me look like an idiot.’

  It probably wasn’t that difficult, I thought, but still, I was starting to grow quite fond of him.

  ‘What does your wife do?’

  ‘She’s a divorce lawyer.’


  ‘Hahaha! Nice one Paul! You almost got me!’

  ‘It’s not a joke,’ he said glumly, ‘Unfortunately…’

  ‘That’s just asking for trouble!’ How did you meet?’

  ‘We actually went to the same school together, and then years later we bumped into each other again when she booked a table at Boboli - that’s the restaurant where I work - and she liked it so much she kept coming back and bringing clients for lunch. Pretty soon she was coming in almost every day, and she was always paying me compliments, you know, saying I made the best carbonara she’d ever tasted, things like that. And then one day she asked me out. She always just lead the way and I would follow...but I shouldn’t be telling you all this.’

  ‘I’ve heard worse! But out of curiosity: that night you took Mum out to dump her, you invited her to your restaurant?’

  ‘I wish it were mine! I was trying to think of the least romantic place possible, given what I had to say to her. That was the worst night of my life.’

  ‘I think she was expecting an engagement ring…’

  ‘Christ, I was such an idiot!’

  ‘Mum was devastated…and I thought you were a total bastard!’

  ‘I don’t even want to think about it. I’d never made anyone cry in my life before. When I think about how I hurt her…’

  He shook his head, genuinely mortified, shrinking back into himself like a child, incredulous of the consequences of their own actions.

  ‘I love your mother so much.’ he said quietly.

  I almost wanted to hug him and, for the first time, I saw him as he really was: a simple man, a little awkward and clumsy, but in love and kind. And with my help, I had no doubt, he would do very well.

  Once he had left, however, my attention wandered from Shakespeare to Patrick’s notebook. I reread the transcript of our conversations and every time I recalled the sound of his voice and his laughter I felt myself overwhelmed by emotion and the need to hold onto him like I had on the night of my rescue.

  If until then my imagination had been limited to walking hand in hand, now I began to venture further, and to imagine far less innocent things about the two of us.

  I imagined the scent of his skin against mine, his hands along my back, his lips caressing my breasts and his fingers exploring my body. I wanted him so badly it was like a sickness. I had never imagined that there could be a passion so great that it felt like pain. I lost my breath and wondered how I would ever bear this emptiness and frustration that, as far as I knew, might last for the rest of my life.

  I was like a fan, hopelessly in love with her favourite singer, talking to his poster at night and writing him long emails, convinced that he is replying rather than some harassed assistant in an office somewhere. This is what love does to you.

  And I still had to face Claire. Now that my anger had subsided, I felt awful for what I had said. I sneaked out of my room to fetch the house phone, hoping to avoid Mum. I had had enough of emotions for one day. I went silently down the stairs and, looking out over the living room, I saw her and Paul snuggled up together on the sofa with their heads leaning against one another, surrounded by a halo of blue light from the TV. He had his arm around her shoulders and stroked her hair and she let herself be pampered. I felt happy for her. Finally she had found some peace, someone who would protect her and put her on a pedestal like she deserved.

  I warmed a glass of milk in the microwave and went upstairs to call Claire.

  She answered on the third ring, in a slightly unsteady voice. Either she had fallen asleep, or she’d had a couple of drinks.

  ‘Claire. It’s Mia.’

  No answer.

  ‘I wanted to say sorry…for what I said.’

  Still nothing. It was going to be hard to get her to forgive me for this.

  ‘It was a stupid thing to say. I was stressed and I wasn’t thinking, and I lashed out. I didn’t mean it, not a word of it.’

  I heard the embers of her cigarette crackle, followed by a long puff of smoke.

  After a long pause, she finally answered. ‘Mia, from this moment on, no longer consider me your teacher.’

  Her calm, cold voice was like a knife in the dark.

  I hadn’t even considered the possibility.

  ‘Come on Claire, you can’t be serious! I apologise from the bottom of my heart, I don’t know what else to do. I wish I could go back in time and unsay it, but I can’t. Please, can you forgive me?’

  ‘No Mia, take this as a life lesson. Perhaps now you will learn to think before you speak, and to respect adults with more experience than you. I think you did mean what you said. I think you see me as a sad, frustrated old woman, with nothing better to do than run around after ungrateful girls like you. And maybe you’re right. It’s true that I dreamed of being a dancer, just like you do, and no, this isn’t what I wanted to end up doing with my life, but I’m damn good at what I do, and I don’t need to give lessons to anyone who thinks they’re doing me a favour by turning up. Leicester is full of much younger and better qualified teachers than I am, not to mention London, but at this point it is no longer my problem, so I wish you all the best!’

  And she hung up.

  I was overcome by fear.

  ‘No, no wait!’ I shouted.

  I called her back but the phone rang out and she didn’t answer. My only real ally had left me in the lurch and I could see my dream fading away before my eyes. Tears ran down my face and onto my sweater. I was all alone and desperate and there was no one I could turn to for advice.

  I had to make peace with Claire, she was my only hope. She knew my limits and my strengths. She had taught me everything I knew and, despite my big mouth, I looked up to her. She couldn’t give up on me. If she wanted to teach me a lesson, I swear, I understood it now. I had thought I could do everything by myself when really I was helpless without her support. I had fixated on the problem of financing, but without a tutor who supported me, what chance did I have of passing the audition? I couldn’t do it without her.

  The following afternoon I went to her class as usual, hoping to talk to her again, but to my surprise and annoyance I found that my spot had already been filled. Little Chester stood stiffly in the centre of the room in his white shirt, black tights and a huge smile painted across his face as he performed jumps and pirouettes like a well-trained puppy.

  I was seething, but I couldn’t say or do anything except suffer the humiliation in silence. I went and sat in a corner with my stomach in knots, while Claire praised the little snake to high heaven.

  ‘Bravo, mon enfant, you will go far!’

  I tried my best to appear relaxed and zen on the outside, while on the inside I imagined using Chester as the world’s smuggest football. I waited patiently until the end of the lesson and, when the little git had gone, I tried to take Claire aside before the girls from the evening school arrived.

  But Claire pretended that I didn’t exist and, suddenly, I felt the burning humiliation of not being the favourite anymore, the one that everyone looks on with admiration and envy. Now I was an outcast who had to beg for every bit of attention.

  ‘Claire, please talk to me! We’ve known each other forever, you’re like a second mother to me! You’ve watched me grow up, you can’t let me go like this!’

  ‘I am not your mother Mia, I have no obligations towards you,’ she answered crisply.

  ‘I know you don’t, but do you really want to throw away the work we’ve done all these years? Doesn’t that mean anything to you? ‘

  ‘I didn’t say it wasn’t painful to lose,’ she replied, looking me in the face, ‘But the disappointment you gave me was too great and I don’t wish to continue with you anymore. All things end sooner or later, nobody knows that better than me, and probably the time had come.’ And she went back to tidying up her CDs.

  ‘No, the time has not come, Claire,’ I said, grabbing her by the shoulders, ‘You can’t offload me like that, like a package, just because I said something stupid!
Please don’t leave me alone, Claire, don’t stop teaching me, you are the only one I want, I’ll beg you on my knees if need be, forgive me!’ I flung my arms around her and hugged her tightly.

  ‘Come on.’ she gave me a little pat on the back, ‘Don’t do that.’

  ‘Don’t abandon me, Claire, you’re the only one who really believes in me.’

  ‘Come on.’ she said, ‘Calm down now.’

  Meanwhile the evening students had entered the room and were watching the scene open-mouthed.

  ‘Do you see girls?’ Claire announced, taking my hand and showing me like a trophy. ‘This is what happens when you get too cocky and think you no longer have anything to learn from your teacher. Remember to never be like that!’

  The girls nodded, looking at me with a certain contempt. Thankfully, Chester had already left. Then she told me to remove my pointe shoes, put on the half-pointed ones beginners wear and go over to the bar to do exercises with the others. I started to protest, but I was in no position to negotiate: she was holding all the cards, and she was going to make me regret calling her a failure by punishing me so hard that I would tell my grandchildren about it!

  Throughout the lesson she kept coming back and criticising me out loud. She never once corrected any of those hopeless whiny little dolls, concentrating exclusively on my grand plie, which was not open enough, on my relevé that was not high enough, and on my tendu that was not tight enough.

  She made me repeat the exercises so many times that my calves felt like they were on fire, and my muscles began to cramp, but I held the position, determined and unmoving, as though I were holding onto life itself, pouring with sweat, but never saying a word.

  After the lesson, I headed for the exit, trying not to limp, but Claire called me back and, with a flash of challenge in her eyes, she said, ‘Right, put your points back on, and we can get started!’

  It was the hardest lesson of my life. She made me go over my audition piece until my feet bled, forcing me to repeat the jumps and turns over and over, continuing to beat my legs, until she saw the tears running down my cheeks. Then she stopped, said that the session was over and threw me a towel. She had destroyed me, but I had learned my lesson. I had been arrogant, and overstepped the mark. She may have exasperated me, but there were some things that should never be said, not even in anger, things that hurt and that risked destroying a relationship forever.