“Sit down.” I pat the spot next to me. “Tell me.”
“I hardly know you,” she says quietly, but she comes anyway.
“Is it a secret? I won’t tell. I swear.”
“No, it’s not a secret,” she mumbles. “Just a disaster.”
“Why? What is it?” She doesn’t protest when I put an arm around her shoulders and squeeze. “Your parents? Did something happen?”
“No, nothing like that.” She’s a bit stiff against me, but doesn’t move away. “God, no. Thanks for putting this into perspective.”
Don’t know what
to reply to that. I guess my definition of a disaster is different than hers. Wouldn’t be the first time I assume murder when it’s just someone asleep on the carpet.
“I’ve been studying dance most of my life,” she says, and I grin. “What’s the grin for?”
“I knew it. Knew you were a dancer. It’s the way you move.”
She looks away, smiling, cheeks darkening. “Thanks.”
“Anytime. So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is…” She draws a deep breath I can feel in the lifting of her slim shoulders. “I’m out.”
“Out?”
“Of the dance school. I’m not good enough. Didn’t make the cut.”
“That’s it? They can just throw you out?”
“You don’t understand.” Now she pushes away from me, prepares to stand up, get away. “Not everyone makes it. Not everyone is made for it. My Achilles tendons are too tight, and my pelvis too stiff, and I broke my right ankle two years ago. It just never recovered completely, and I…”
There’s that crack in her voice again, and no way am I letting her go like this. I reach over, aching leg and all, and pull her back to me until her head is resting on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Yeah, me too. Worked for this since I was nine. All my life I’ve wanted to be a professional dancer, and I can’t…” She clutches at the front of my borrowed T-shit with one slim hand. “Can’t believe it’s over. They said if I continue training, I might damage my ankle so badly I’ll have trouble walking.”
Jesus. “How about doing something else dance-related? Like teaching ballet?”
“Maybe if I want to teach kids. But I don’t.”
“Okay. Hey, everything will be okay, you know that, right?”
She says nothing.
Again I want to remind her this ain’t the end of the world. The world is full of opportunities when you have a roof over your head and dough to spend. When your past isn’t haunting your every step, and your body and mind aren’t fucked-up to hell.
But I don’t. Because that’s not what she needs right now. She needs someone to hold her in silence and accept her pain and sadness.
So that’s what I’ll do, and bad idea or not, you couldn’t rip me from her side for all the money in the world.
***
When I wake up next, I’m again not sure where I am, but it’s warm, and comfortable, and somehow feels good.
Okay. Don’t panic yet.