As I perform a Temps levé, I kick out my worries, stress and fear, from side to side, foot to foot. I cast it away in the action and free myself to find the inner music. I focus on the rhythm as the names of the moves slip away and my body takes over, performing the actions out of muscle memory rather than concentration. I find the music to dance to in my soul. I’d been hearing it all my life, even before the dancing with Gregor on the rooftop.
“Honk! Beep! Beep! Screech! Hey! - Honk! Beep! Beep! Thwack! How are you?- Honk! Beep! Beep! Smack! Taxi!”
The music of my life begins to take over and I move, forgetting that I am in the auditorium, that I am at Julliard, that I have worried and stressed about perfection since having arrived there. I’d been dancing to this tune my entire life, trading one city for another, and in this city, finding Gregor to only add to the rhythm.
“Honk! Beep! Beep! Hi, I’m Gregor. – Honk! Beep! Beep! Click! I’m Colin. – Honk! Beep! Beep! Dance with me Colin.”
I twirl endlessly around the stage, imagining I am back in Gregor’s arms and allowing myself to be led through this dance, through life with him there as my dance partner through it all. I realize, with alacrity, as I finally come to a sweeping bow down from a flying pas de chat, that it’s what I was missing all along.
I’m sweating and red faced as I look over and see Madame rocking back and forth in the chair smiling.
“Good, very good. Whatever that was, whoever you just danced with or for, I want you to keep that in mind every day for the next few weeks until the show. Understood?”
I nod and say nothing. I don’t need to explain what it was to her. Some things are private, and she understands this. I walk back with her to class in silence and by then the class is warmed up and paired off. Angela had been dancing alone until I re-enter with Madame, and I pair up with her.
She stiffens in my arms and it makes for an interesting rehearsal, trying to stay on form. I know she prefers to dance with Eric, and he is constantly gimping over to us on his crutches to criticize my form, when in fact I know she is the one that needs to loosen up. But this time, their snide remarks and smug expressions don’t register in my mind at all. I focus on the classical music that is playing as we rehearse the steps of Swan Lake, but the fire in my heart for the dance, and for my feelings which I had been denying about Gregor all this time, drown out any negativity that is thrown my way through rehearsal.
I know it will take a lot to make amends with Gregor, and we still have to work through the performance and the practices for the Valentine’s Day Virtuoso, but I am confident that somehow, I can make it all work out.
I’m feeling really confident about all of this, until the drama students enter for the mid-morning practice and Katarina walks in side by side with Gregor, but he refuses to look at me.
Chapter Twelve
“Let’s take it from the top!” Mr. Schlewp calls. He pushes his glasses up on his face and glances down at his script. He had been writing and scribbling notes on it with every re-run. I had barely caught Gregor’s eye except when it was called for in the script.
Today we were working strictly on lines and acting, and not the choreographed musical pieces, so although there was interaction with one another, not nearly so much as the physical contact that was called for during the performance numbers.
I glanced in a panic back at Katarina. She looks strange in her street clothes with the rest of the drama students. They all have on sweatpants and t-shirts, where the dancers have their unitards and tights. She looks between me and Gregor and shrugs. I wince when I see him shove Seth playfully, wondering if maybe I really blew it big time last night.
As we take our places again, Gregor turns his head and the light of the weak sunshine outside catches his eyes and they seem to shine, but I notice the twinkle in his eye is cast over his shoulder at Seth who had just been goofing around with him. When he turns back to me, his expression isn’t angry, it’s worse. He pastes a completely placid look on his face and I can’t get a read on his emotions at all.
I offer him a weak smile and for a moment he looks like he is going to say something, but then Mr. Schlewp calls, “Action!”
The words for the characters come out automatically, but they feel like they are lacking in sincerity to me. Maybe I’m just reading too much into it. I’m not sure, but they definitely feel forced.
When class breaks for lunch, I jog over to Katarina and ask, “Did he say anything before you guys came into class?” We stand watching him as he tousles the hair of Katie, a bohemian style actress with ginger hair and freckles that splatter her cheeks and face. I become transfixed in his laugh, having missed it even though only a night has passed.
“Yeah, he welcomed me to the drama program and told me it was about time.”
My stomach drops. I was hoping if he spoke to anyone about last night, it would have been Katarina. I give her a quick, half-hearted smile. “Hey, I should have said congrats too! I’m sorry I was such a downer last night. You’ve got enough to think about, I should have been a better friend and been happy for you.” I give her a hug as we walk out the classroom door.
“It’s ok, Colin. You had your mind on other things, I can completely understand that.” She links her arm with mine and pats the back of my hand reassuringly.
“Can we just skip the dining hall today?” I ask her. She pauses as she looks after the drama crowd and I quickly say, “never mind. I know you want to hang out and fit in with the new crowd. That was selfish of me to ask.”
“Honestly, Colin, you need to learn that you’re my BFF here. If you need a break from the scene, of course I’ll come hang out with you. If you turn into a social recluse however, then we’re going to have an intervention.”
We turn and start walking back down the hall toward the dorms. Katarina keeps a stash of food in her dorm and she hands me a bag of chips as she shoves a couple of Hot Pockets in the microwave and nukes them, so they are soggy on the inside and chewy on the outer crust. They aren’t the most appetizing of lunches, but I’m grateful for the peace and quiet.
She flips on the t.v. and we sit on the bed gnawing at the cardboard-like pizza crusts and the midday news comes on.
I watch as the lanky newscaster in his well-fitted suit comes on. He’s standing at a dockside and there are workers scurrying behind him as he begins speaking.
“In a tragic accident that left one longshoreman dead and five others injured, an explosion rocked the docks here in South Boston last night. However, it is known that four of the injured are related. Not a lot is known about the cause of the explosion, it is suspected that it might have to do with the rivalries between the Irish mob families, O’Duffy and O’Callaghan. There has been a long-standing feud between the two families that has been the cause of several homicides and suspected fights that have broken out. This particular shipping yard, O’Duffy’s Importing and Exporting, is owned and operated by James O’Duffy, suspected leader of the O’Duffy mob family. The workers are not being very forthcoming with information regarding the explosion and all O’Duffy had to say was he hopes those injured in the blast have a speedy recovery and that he is working closely with the family affected by the tragic accident.”
My body freezes as I watch in horror as the cameraman zooms in on the shipping container that has a hole in it the size of a wrecking ball. I would have suspected that was the cause, except for the noticeable scorch marks around the hole, and the obvious signs of debris littering the docks. My mouth goes dry and I set the plate of the Hot Pockets down beside me as I lean forward toward the television screen.
“Show me, show us who was hurt,” I urge the telecaster.
“Colin, isn’t that…don’t your Dad and brothers work at O’Duffy’s?” Katarina asks in a horrified whisper.
“Show me, show us who was hurt.” I can feel my body rocking back and forth on the bed, although my mind feels detached as it remains concentrated on the screen. Surely someone would have called me if the fo
ur were…but, it’s such a large dock and a lot of families have multiple fathers and sons working down there. There’s thousands of workers, it can’t be…
My blood runs cold as the footage changes from the shipping container back to the broadcaster, who begins to rattle off the names of the injured. “Due to privacy, the family of the deceased is requesting their loved one be kept out of the news, but the four who were injured and sent to Our Lady of the Peace Medical Hospital, a well-known private Catholic Hospital are head of household Finn O’Shea and his three sons Patrick, Liam, and Seamus. It is known to us that there is a fourth son, but he has been unable to be reached for comment and if he will pick up work at O’Duffy’s to continue supporting his family.”
“Turn it off,” I whisper. Katarina immediately jumps off the bed and switches the t.v. off. I stand, pacing the tiny room and kicking aside an assortment of clothes, books and dirty dishes. Her room is decorated in all her favorite movie posters. The colors shine back at me on glossy paper that is chaotic, and the swirl of colors makes me dizzy.
I stop near the doorway, thinking I should call Mum, but then, she would be at the hospital.
“Colin?” Katarina says tentatively, like I might break at the slightest touch or sound. I look at her and wipe the sweat from my hands on my tights and then keel over, grabbing her trash can near the door.
By the time I’m done being sick and emptying the contents of the pizza pockets from my stomach, I am shaking all over and my stomach muscles ache.
“Colin, you’re in shock.” She rubs my back and places a blanket over my shoulders as I begin to shiver. “I’ve sent for help.” She tells me, and I nod numbly.
A moment later I hear the tell-tale signs of Madame thunking down the hall as fast as she can with her cane. Katarina goes to the door and waves her inside.
“He’s here. He’s in here,” she proclaims.
Madame pushes her way into the room, followed closely by Mr. Schlewp and to my surprise, Gregor.
“We’ve just heard. Of course, you are being dismissed early for the Christmas holidays…” Mr. Schlewp babbles. Madame sits at Katarina’s desk chair staring at my pale sweaty face.
“Do you need us to give you an extended leave of absence?” she asks quietly. I frown at her, not sure what she is asking so I shake my head.
“N…no Madame. I just need to get to the hospital.” I tell her. She stares at me for a long moment and then shakes her head.
“I can take him,” Katarina says quietly. Mr. Schlewp and Madame agree and then Gregor speaks up.
“I’ll go with them. I’m from South Boston, that part of the city…it’s best if you travel in a group.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Mr. Schlewp asks. “The show is only a couple of months away. We really could practice…”
“I’m going,” Gregor states firmly. “If the school needs to punish me or, I don’t know, kick me out. Well then, that’s that.”
Mr. Schlewp and Madame look at each other and then Madame says, “Very well. The school is not going to kick you out and you will not be punished for leaving. We need you back as the lead in your part. You may take your Christmas holiday early too, but we’ll need you back here before New Year’s for rehearsals. We’ll have a lot of time to make up for. Colin, if you can’t come back, we completely understand, so just send word as soon as you can. We understand you have more pressing concerns right now than the show.”
I nod at them again, feeling like at any moment my brain will kick on and this feeling of stupidity and cloudiness will leave my vision. Mr. Schlewp and Madame stand, each patting me on the shoulder and offering their condolences before they leave. Katarina jumps up in a whirlwind of activity as she throws some clothes and toiletries in a bag. Gregor sits on the bed beside me and his big body radiates heat that I find comforting. I sway towards him, but catch myself from leaning on him just in time before my shoulder makes contact.
As if sensing my need to make contact, he slips his fingers through mine, interlocking them and squeezing my palm. The contact is reassuring, and I sigh, slouching my shoulders, feeling suddenly exhausted to my very core. When Katarina is done, she glances between us but says nothing about the hand holding.
“Come on Colin, let’s go to your room and pack some things for vacation and then Gregor can go to his room and pack his bag.”
I nod numbly and stand, swaying again. My stomach feels weak and the nausea rolls through me in a wave.
“I think your hot pockets were bad,” I blurt.
Katarina opens her mouth to say something, shuts it when she thinks better of it, then says, “yeah, OK. Thanks.”
We walk down the halls and other students stare at me as I pass by. Word has spread rapidly about the explosion and whose family was affected.
“You don’t have to do this,” I turn to Gregor and say.
He looks at me with his solemn dark eyes and says, “I’m coming with you and that’s non-negotiable. Now pack your bag. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
He pulls me into a hug and I lose myself in his intoxicating scent. His hug seems to glue the pieces back together of my shattered reality and I know that somehow in the next ten minutes, I am going to make it through. I enter my dorm and pull out a few pairs of jeans and sweatpants and t-shirts. It takes me half the time to pack my bag than Katarina because my room is so neat and orderly. I find it funny that even with her dorm in complete disarray and having to work through the fight with her parents, of the two of us, my life has somehow become more chaotic. Or maybe I am just being selfish in my internal pity party. Maybe it’s not fair to play the “my pain is worse than your pain” game in my head.
Whatever Katarina may be feeling, she graciously doesn’t let on as she sits on my bed and watches me move around the room woodenly.
When Gregor returns a few minutes later with his duffel bag thrown over his shoulder, he picks up Katarina’s and we all head outside and hail a cab to the train station.
The trip is a silent one. Katarina sits opposite of Gregor and I, and I claim the window seat, staring absentmindedly out and not really seeing the buildings and houses go by. They soon give way to more rural residences and the occasional areas where we pass through towns, but it all bleeds together in my mind.
Are they going to be alright? How badly were they injured? Will they be able to go back to work? I don’t know how to be a longshoreman. If Mum needs a man to be the breadwinner of the house, I never learned a skill or trade. I’ve always been a dancer. How will she afford the cost of the medical bills? Will O’Duffy give her compensation?
My mind races with thoughts as fast as the moving train. It seems like the ride takes all day when in fact, it only takes a few hours. Katarina goes to the dining cart and buys some sandwiches for lunch, but the slightly wilted lettuce on mine has my stomach turning over again. If she’s offended that I didn’t eat the sandwich, she doesn’t say so. Gregor offers me his water and I gladly take a few refreshing sips of that. It doesn’t make my stomach churn like the thought of food does, so he waves his hand at it when I try to hand it back to him.
I gratefully press it between my knees as I turn back to the window, occasionally picking it up to take sips.
We roll into South Station and I jump up, cracking my forehead on the overhead luggage rack.
“Damn it!” I hiss, rubbing the spot gingerly. I can already tell it’s going to leave a bruise and a headache in its wake. But no amount of pain compares to the anxiety of losing my Dad and my brothers.
When we disembark and step out onto the platform, I look around for an available taxi and sense Katarina and Gregor right at my heels. As we have come in during the evening rush hour, there aren’t any taxis available, so I set off down the street in the direction of the hospital. It’s a fair distance from the station, but I am determined to make it to the hospital, even if it means having to walk.
“Hey, hold up Colin,” Gregor’s voice sounds in my ear. “We can’t walk
through South Boston, especially this time of night. And if you head in the direction you are, that way lies trouble, even if it’s a short cut,” he reasons.
“I don’t care Gregor. It’s my family!” I shout at him, finally losing my composure. He holds his hands up and steps back.
“All I’m saying is, I texted my Mom and she’s on her way over with the van and she’s willing to drive us there,” He murmurs.
Several bystanders stare at us and I glower at them, so they lower their eyes and move away quickly.
“I think waiting the few minutes for Ms. McCallum is a good idea, Colin,” Katarina pleads. “I don’t know this city, but I trust that you and Gregor do. We will get to the hospital, I promise.”
Her face is white and pinched, and my bluster blows out. They are here for me and just trying to help.
“I’m sorry, Katarina.” I mumble looking down at my sneakers. I had taken a moment to change before we left. There was no way I was walking the streets of either city in tights and a unitard.
“We’ve got you.” Gregor lays his palm on my shoulder and I sigh at the contact. Having both of them here is a reassurance and support I desperately need.
A few moments later, a van with a party supply logo on the side pulls up and honks at us. Gregor lifts his bag and mine up and indicates we should follow him. An elderly black woman sits in the driver’s seat and waves to him, as Gregor opens the panel door and shoves our bags inside.
Dear Valentine: A Gay Romance Story (Opposites Attract Series Book 2) Page 9