by Amelia Grace
He gazed into my eyes. ‘You blew me away!’
My stomach fluttered. ‘Good.’
We parted ways and I went to change into my foxtrot gown.
*~*~*~*~*
Xander was standing by the window, looking out, a million miles away.
‘Hey,’ I said from behind him. My foxtrot gown was white with a red rose vine that grew from the hem and up and over my shoulder.
Xander turned around. ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘look at you—perfect ... stunning!’
‘Look at you—black pants and a white button-up shirt!’ I wondered if he received my sarcasm. There were a million and one ballroom dancing gowns for women to choose from with twenty million colour variations. But men could choose from suits or pants and a shirt, with limited colour variations for the waltz or foxtrot.
‘I know ... sexy, hey?’
‘On you, yes.’ I meant what I said, and took a deep breath.
He looked down at my white dancing shoes, ‘No sparkly work boots?’
‘Do you think we would get extra points?’
‘Definitely!’
I gave him a small smile. ‘Let’s go and warm up.’
‘Let’s,’ Xander said.
I wished time would slow down while we rehearsed our steps. After this dance, Xander and I had no need to see each other.
When our names illuminated on the dance board, my heart dropped. This dance would be bittersweet.
I felt Xander’s fingers wrap around mine and I calmed. ‘For Gram,’ he said.
I almost crumbled in an emotional blob. I held Xander’s hand tighter. ‘For Gram,’ I whispered.
We walked onto the dance floor and our fingers lingered in connection before they parted. I moved to the corner of the dance floor and lowered my head, and put my hand over my heart, then waited for the music ... Perfect ... I took a deep breath when it began.
For Gram.
I could barely remember where we were when the music finished. I was completely lost in Xander and his touch, his eye connection, his emotion, his gentleness, his passion, and his presence that I melted into as we danced, like our two souls had become one and we were the only people in the room.
Xander put his arm around my waist and we bowed to the judges.
‘You nailed it, Yolande,’ he whispered, then smiled.
‘You think?’
‘I know.’ He kissed me on the forehead and we turned and left the dance floor, walking with grace to a loud applause.
I was filled with a dancer’s high. I was so unbelievably high that I never wanted to return to reality. Maybe I could just float away into the heavens and remain in that state permanently.
Xander threaded his fingers through mine when we were ushered to the green room to wait for the dancing results. I looked around at the professional ballroom dancers.
Did they know I was a fake ballroom dancer? I stilled in that moment, wondering how Xander and I were able to compete against the elite around us.
*~*~*~*~*
Xander grabbed my hand and we ran. He, in his black trousers and white button-up shirt, and me, in my foxtrot dancing gown. We stopped underneath the ancient tree in the field outside the arts theatre. I looked up at the light bulbs hanging artistically from the lower branches while trying to catch my breath, and smiled. It was beyond beautiful.
‘Take your shoes off,’ Xander said. ‘Let’s climb the tree!’
I looked at my shoes, my protection, even though they weren’t my work boots.
‘I’ll look after you,’ he said. He crouched down and loosened the buckle on my dance shoe. When he lifted my leg, I placed my hand on his shoulder while he slipped the shoe off. He did the same with the other shoe. Somehow, it felt intimate. I took a deep breath to calm his magical potion flowing through me.
The grass was cool and soft under my bare feet. It had been a long time since I had felt it, the last time being when I stood beside Mia by the ocean cliff, three years ago.
Xander rose smoothly and slowly to standing position before me, his eyes dark. My hand was still on his shoulder, something I had done a million times when we danced. But this felt different, somehow. I felt nervous. And scared. Scared of my heart being hurt.
‘You go first. I’m right behind you. I’ll catch you if you fall.’ His eyes were connected to mine like he was looking into my soul, and that curious heat travelled through me.
I looked up at the tree and smiled, feeling free. Feeling happy.
I swallowed hard, then hitched up my ball gown and started to climb, giggling, until I found a thick branch where Xander could sit with me.
Xander smiled as he inched beside me, our thighs touching, my heart melting.
‘What?’ I said. Maybe it was the thrill of climbing a tree. Or maybe he was still high from dancing?
‘I love your giggle. It’s nice to hear.’
He was right. I didn’t giggle that much, or laugh for that matter. ‘I still can’t believe we got placings in our dances with all those professionals!’
‘That’s why I chose to dance with you—the judges had never seen you dance before, so they would really focus on you. Someone new and fresh and invigorating ...’
‘And you—’
‘No. They knew I was a danseur. I saw the recognition on their faces when we walked onto the dance floor.’
‘How did we even get to dance there? It isn’t the norm for unknowns to compete with the knowns in a competition like that!’
‘I was handed a wild card for the event. And I wanted to try something different.’
‘Nice,’ I said, and smiled at him. ‘I must thank you ... I loved every moment of the ballroom dancing! I haven’t felt this happy in a long time.’
Xander lowered his head and grinned. ‘That would be the endorphins ...’
‘And you,’ I said, my voice quieter.
Xander looked up at me and our eyes met. His chest rose as he took a deep breath.
‘Do you miss performing in front of thousands?’ I asked.
He stilled. ‘Yes.’ His eyebrows gathered in.
‘Why did you stop?’
‘I need to finish my medical degree, plus I want to continue with biomedical science.’
‘Is that for you, or your father?’
Xander shifted on the tree branch. I was digging deeper in an area that hurt in his life. ‘Medicine to please my father, biomedical science for me. I want to contribute to advances in modern medical science ... I want to develop treatments for diseases—if it’s at all possible.’
‘But it’s not your passion.’
‘I won’t be able to dance forever. You know very well that one injury can end the life of a dancer. I need something else to become passionate about...’
I shook my head at him. ‘Helping people ... you’re too nice.’
‘Insult or compliment?’
‘Neither. Just a statement of admiration.’
He raised his eyebrows at me. ‘Admiration?’
‘Yes. Not gooey admiration, an intellectual admiration. I love a brilliant mind that has compassion for others.’
He breathed a sigh of relief.
‘My opinion doesn’t matter that much, Dr Alexander Parker.’
‘To me it does,’ he said, holding my gaze.
I lowered my head. If he knew what I had done, my opinion wouldn’t matter to him.
I looked up at the stars through the tree branches and swung my bare feet. ‘I wonder what it’s like being a star, emitting a bright light for all to see, all the time, with no darkness to be found within?’
‘Boring for the star,’ Xander said, surprising me, ‘amazing for us to look up at and wonder.’
I looked at him. ‘Boring? How?’
‘The star can’t see its own brilliance, its own illumination. Much like you.’
I breathed slowly. ‘Are you saying I’m boring?’
‘No. I’m saying you don’t see the bright light you emit for all to see.’
&
nbsp; It’s because I’m dark inside ... so dark ... if you knew, you would run ...
I looked down at my hand and stretched it to push out my anxiety. Xander put his hand over mine. I had nothing to say to him. I wanted to go home now. He was making me feel uncomfortable. I wasn’t who he thought I was. We needed a topic change.
‘Would you rather be a moon or a star?’ I asked.
He pressed his lips together. ‘Hmmm ... the moon I think.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Because it dances around the earth, showing us an ever-changing profile and light ... sometimes hiding from us. It has control of something that is so much greater than itself—the tide ... and it has a dark side—one that no one can see. What about you?’
Xander had just partly described me. I danced around life, not wanting to participate fully, and changed how people perceived me with the mask I wore ... and I had a dark side, a very dark side. I was a moon walking on the earth ... incessantly hiding my dark side.
What would I rather be? ‘A star, I think ... because it’s mysterious. There’s more to the star than we can see and understand. Perhaps it’s not a star at all, but a planet that allows souls to walk on its sacred ground ... souls who give love and receive love, souls who have no darkness ... or evil, souls who resonate in harmony with the vibration of the universe and of our Creator and of eternal life ...’ I kept my eyes on the stars and the moon in wonder, until the clouds hid them, not wanting to share the glory of them anymore. Selfish.
A deep rumbling of thunder sounded in the distance. ‘Trees are not the best place to be during a storm,’ I said and looked at Xander.
‘Unless you don’t value your life,’ he said, and raised an eyebrow at me. Did he know something I didn’t want him to know? He started to climb down the tree, branch by branch, and I followed.
As I reached the lower section of the tree trunk, Xander put his hands on my waist like a danseur would. He helped me to a soft landing on the grass. I turned around and smiled at him.
‘A smile of relief from climbing down the tree, or are you laughing at me, Andi?’
I shook my head. ‘I’m laughing at me, Andy!’
‘Do share ...’
‘I had a vision of me in a white tutu and you as the prince, dressed in your ballet tights and a magnificent, grand coat.’
Xander tilted his head to the side a little. He placed his finger under my chin, lifting my face to his. When I looked up into his blue eyes, I felt their pull on me. My whole life came to a point, a destination, right then. I think it had always been him, even before we met.
I placed my hand on the side of his face. His skin was warm, a slight stubble to the touch. My eyes wandered to his lips—his sensuous lips. I ran my thumb over them, wanting—no, needing him to kiss me for a moment in time, where he could ignite a spark of light in the darkness inside of me. Just for a moment in time where I could feel like a normal woman again. Not this broken, damaged, self-loathing one, with a crying soul ...
I closed my eyes and his soft lips touched mine. Once. Twice. Caressing. Lingering. Sending a warmth through every cell of my body, awakening parts of me I had shut down three years ago.
And my tears fell. They trickled. Down the right side of my face, exposing me.
And I ran.
Across the field to the lights in the distance, with tears flowing and dripping from me. I wanted to run to the edge of the earth and step off into eternity, where the souls of love and light were. To that place where darkness was obliterated.
I heard Xander’s voice behind me, calling, beseeching, getting closer. I turned to see how close he was, then stepped out onto the road where the lights were—there was the sound of tires screeching. The smell of burning rubber. And the blast of a horn.
Once my heart started to beat again, I rushed to the door of a taxi, opened it and clambered inside.
‘Go ... please ... just go!’ I said through a broken voice. I looked out at Xander as he stopped on the roadside, holding my shoes, pinching the bridge of his nose.
‘Are you okay, ma’am?’ the driver asked.
‘Yes. I just need to go home...’ I said, and looked down at my bare feet.
I should have worn my work boots ...
Chapter Thirty-Five
THE PAINTING BEFORE ME WASN'T WORKING. Dr Jones said that art was a healing outlet for me. But not today.
Damn you, Alexander! You can’t have feelings for me. Ever. And I can’t have feelings for you. Not me. The monster. Happiness couldn’t dwell inside of me. Especially after—
The door burst open.
I turned, and he stood there, holding my dance shoes.
His eyes were naked with emotion and he clenched his teeth. He was the colour of light red, of sensitivity, of longing, of love, and my heart screamed.
‘I kiss you, and you run?’ His voice broke. His eyes moved to the ugly scar on my right cheek. The one I hid from others so carefully with impeccably applied make-up since that terrible day that I wished had never happened.
Xander swallowed hard and sucked in a deep breath. I then watched as his face contorted while his eyes followed my facial scar to my chest that ran down to my exposed nipple.
I pulled my tank shirt up and turned away from him, panicked and wide-eyed. My studio was supposed to be my safe place.
Damn you, Alexander!
I stilled as the soft patter of feet grew closer. Ballet feet. Ballet dancers walked differently to other people. The sound stopped, and I felt the heat from his body, and smelled a spicy blend of cedarwood and cocoa-vanilla scent. I wanted him to go away.
Far away.
He wrapped his arms around me. I dropped my head forward and sobbed. He turned me in his arms and I buried my face into his shoulder and sobbed harder. And I couldn’t stop. Ugly, loud sobs. Ugly, like the darkness inside of me.
His arms tightened. Tighter than I thought possible without squeezing every living breath out of me. Without breaking me. Maybe he could push all my broken bits back together ...
When I could cry no more I took a step back from him. I kept the right side of my face turned away from him.
‘Don’t look at me!’ I spat at him, filled with dread and shame. So much shame. So. Much. Shame. I held in a sob.
Xander placed a finger under my chin and turned my face towards his. I kept my eyes focussed on the floor. I couldn’t bear to see his reaction to the scar on my face.
‘Fucking bastard!’ he said in a barely audible voice that was fuming with anger. ‘Look at me, Yolande ...’ His voice was gentle.
I gave a slight shake of my head. I couldn’t look at him. I wasn’t worthy. The strength I used every moment of every day to project a different me was gone. Empty.
Xander moved. He knelt in front of me and into my line of vision.
Damn you, Alexander!
He looked up at me and a tear rolled down his face. On that same side. That same place.
He reached over and grabbed a red oil pastel. He held it in front of me. ‘Draw your scar on me,’ he whispered.
I stiffened. ‘I can’t ... I can’t do it. I’m not a monster like those two men!’
‘Do it,’ he said. This time his voice more forceful. He stood in front of me and looked down into my eyes.
He placed the red oil pastel into my hand.
I hesitated before I lifted it to his face. His perfect, beautiful face. I shook my head. ‘I can’t.’
Xander raised his eyebrows at me. ‘You can.’
I pressed my lips into a hard line, then placed the tip of the oil pastel under his eyelashes and followed the line of his tear down his cheek and stopped at his jaw. I hung my arm by my side. Doing this to him hurt like hell.
‘And the rest,’ he said.
‘The rest?’
‘Whoever did this to you followed the trail of your tear, didn’t he?’
I inhaled a shuddering breath at the memory.
Johnno looked down at the knife he held
in his grubby hand and grinned. He turned it from side to side, the light reflecting off it, onto my face. My eyes burned. I didn’t want to cry in front of these despicable excuses of human beings. I widened my eyes to contain my tears, but I was betrayed by one. I looked up at his face. His eyes followed my tear as it rolled down my cheek to my jaw line, where it stopped.
I swallowed slowly as I felt the tear gaining volume and became too heavy to stop there. It dropped onto my chest and trickled down to my nipple.
‘Who’s the weak one now? You’re crying, like a typical girl!’ He moved the point of the blade to where the tear started on my cheekbone, just below my eye. The tip of the knife pierced my skin. I closed my eyes as I felt the sharp cutting of my flesh, with a searing pain that screamed at my core. With a slow, torturous speed, the tip of the knife traced the path of my tear—down my cheek to my jaw-line, then onto my chest.
I held my breath as the knife went in a direct path, following the tear, to my nipple—piercing, cutting, tearing.
I swallowed hard, standing dead still. Everything inside me was trembling. I could feel blood running down my face, and dripping onto my chest, dribbling, running further down my naked body, pooling at my feet.
‘Yes,’ I said to answer Xander’s question, my voice wavering. I swallowed. Hard.
Xander unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it onto the floor. ‘Do it.’
I looked at his body of perfection. Of defined muscles born of ballet. Of muscles that made every girl and some guys swoon. I shook my head. I couldn’t blemish his magnificence, his luminosity.
He raised an eyebrow at me. ‘Do. It.’ His voice cracked as he whispered.
I hesitated, then placed the point of the oil pastel onto his collarbone. I drew in a direct line down his chest. His muscular, unblemished chest. As I continued towards his nipple he stopped breathing. Just like I had on that terrible day. I looked into his anguished eyes and kept drawing the scar in red, just like my blood on that day, that terrible day, and stopped at the areola. I dropped the oil pastel to the floor, emotionally exhausted. My arm fell beside me, lifeless.
Xander stumbled back from me, almost losing his balance, and lifted his chin. He fell to his knees with his hands behind his head and cried.