Mr. Park Lane (The Mister)
“Beautiful,” she replied. “I’m a ballerina. Just like my mummy.” I smiled. “Do you mind if I ask your mummy some questions about you?” She shook her head as she swept her arms up into first position.
I took a seat and went through some basic questions with Millie’s mum. “So your GP suggested you come in for some blood tests to check for infection?” It was always good to know why someone had been encouraged into A&E.
“Yes. Just a precaution, she said.”
“Makes sense. The temperature isn’t too high and she seems in good spirits, so there’s nothing in particular to worry about, but as I’m sure you’re aware, Millie is a bit more prone to infections. It’s good to be cautious.” I stood to talk to Millie. “Can I take a feel of your tummy and listen to your chest?”
Millie nodded.
“Have you just had a ballet class?” I asked as I began to examine her.
“No,” said Millie. “I’m always a ballerina.”
I glanced at her mother, who was grinning. “She loves to dance. I used to dance professionally and she found all my old costumes when she was about three. She’s been obsessed ever since. We’ve just come from seeing Romeo and Juliet at the Royal Opera House.”
My heart swooped into the floor, my heart began to gallop, and I tried to keep my smile in place.
“You used to dance professionally?”
“When I was younger I went to the Royal Ballet School. But . . . life happens and . . .” She shrugged. “I had Millie and now we watch. And we dance for fun around the kitchen.”
I wanted to ask her what had happened. No dancer went to the Royal Ballet School and just gave up. Had she gotten pregnant, had an injury, lost a scholarship?
“Dancing for fun is good,” I said, not really thinking about what I was saying. It was the exact opposite of what I believed to be true for me.
Millie’s mother sighed. “It really is. And we go to the ballet a lot, don’t we Millie?”
Millie nodded. “Dancing is the best,” Millie’s mother beamed at her. I could almost believe them as I watched them.
“I’ll order some blood tests. We’ll keep an eye on things, but I’m not concerned at the moment.”
The idea of dancing just for fun or going to the ballet wasn’t something I’d ever entertained. My parents had tried to convince me, told me over and over that my injuries didn’t mean I couldn’t dance. Or couldn’t enjoy watching a performance. The problem was the accident had meant I couldn’t dance as well as I once had, so I couldn’t make it my future. I’d decided if I couldn’t dance professionally, I wouldn’t dance at all. I wanted to block every trace of dance out of my life. But looking at the joy on Millie’s and her mother’s faces as they talked about dancing made me remember how much I’d loved it. I’d loved hearing the music and being able to move my body in a way that honored it and watching others do the same. I loved the feeling of making the leap or spin or complex footwork. I loved seeing new choreography and how it interpreted the music differently. I’d left a lot behind.
As I walked back up to the break room, I headed for the lockers. I dove into my backpack to see if I could find the card Joshua had given me weeks ago.
Could I recreate some of the pleasure that dancing had brought me by just watching? I’d spent so many years avoiding anything to do with dance because of a stupid decision that had sent me into a ditch. Was I going to let myself continue to pay for that for the rest of my life?
Joshua had told me I could go to the ballet any time I’d wanted. Maybe it was time to remember the joy of dancing. Sure enough the card he’d given me was tucked into the internal pocket of my bag where I’d stashed it. I turned it over, in my hand, wondering whether or not I could recreate some of the pleasure that dancing had brought me by watching the best of the best.
I’d never know unless I tried.
Thirty-Six
Joshua
The bath was a perfect thirty-eight degrees and a glass full of chilled water with a twist of lime was in arm’s reach. I wasn’t exactly sure I got the frankincense, but I could definitely make out the lavender in my new bath oil. It was a special blend, supposed to de-stress and unleash creativity. Even so, I couldn’t sit still and I wasn’t coming up with any new ideas.
Instead, my mind was stuck on a loop of my last conversation with Hartford twenty-one days ago. I’d been trying to figure out why I hadn’t tried harder to stop her from turning her back on me. It was the same thing that was stopping me from going after her now. There was a roadblock in my way I hadn’t worked out how to dismantle.