“Theo, there is no way she will make it through another week of practice, let alone perform at the Gala—”
“I’m here, Walt. I’ll talk to her. What room is she in?”
“4601.”
Hanging up, I parked, cut the engine, and stepped out, staring up at the hospital. I wasn’t sure what to say her, or more importantly, how she would react. Violet Montgomery cared about one thing: her career. She had been dancing since she was four years old. She’d said it was all she wanted to do in life, which was why I wasn’t 100 percent shocked when she left me. I was stuck in L.A. and she’d wanted to dance in Paris.
Inside, Walt was waiting by the nurse’s station, still dressed in sweatpants, his dance shoes, and a T-shirt.
“How did she get here?”
“We were going through a set for the evening, and her leg gave out. She was crying out in so much pain, we called the abundance. When she saw them, she said she didn’t want to come, but I forced her anyway.”
We stopped at her door.
“Do you need me to—”
“I got this. Just start working with the understudy.”
“I should be the one to tell—”
“Walter,” I said sternly.
Sighing, he nodded. “Just tell her I’m sorry.”
I slid open the door, expecting her to be in bed. Instead she was holding a crutch and digging into her bag. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a bun, and she wore glasses instead of her contacts.
“Walt, did you see my meds? I’ll be good to go once I get—”
“You can’t dance, Violet.”
Her head snapped up. “Theo? What are you doing here? It’s not that serious. I’m fine—”
“You’re done, Violet. It’s over.”
“What are you talking about? I—”
“VIOLET!”
She jumped, startled, her whole body shaking. She threw the bag to the ground.
“You can’t stop me from dancing, Theo! I’m—”
“We know! I’m so sorry, Violet, but you can’t dance. Not for the company, not for anyone. It’s over—”
“Fuck you!” she screamed. “Fuck those two-bit idiot doctors who don’t know a goddamn thing! I am fine! I am Violet Montgomery, prima ballerina assoluta! I’ve danced in The Mariinsky Theatre, the Paris Opera House, and with the New York City and Royal Ballet. It is not over until I say it is over.”
The tears that rained down her now red face hurt me, and I knew it killed her to shed them.
“It’s over when your body says it’s over.”
She shook her head at me and faced her bag, still packing to leave. “No. I don’t end this way.”
I wrapped my arms around her. She stood still before breaking down into sobs.
“What am I if I’m not a dancer, Theo? I gave up everything for this. All I am is my dancing. I can’t stop now—”
“You aren’t your dancing. You are a person, someone who will always land on her feet.”