I went through the line of stretches with the rest of the ballerinas, trying not to wince as the final stretch tugged my ankle in an uncomfortable way. It had been bothering me for a few weeks now, ever since I rolled it during one of our performances.
That had been so embarrassing. It had happened on stage, in full view of the audience. I’d stumbled and barely recovered in time to keep dancing.
All those years of practice paid off, though. No matter how much my ankle hurt, I was able to finish out the routine with everyone else. I was sure adrenaline had something to do with it because the moment I walked off stage, I nearly collapsed with pain.
I couldn’t let anyone know about it. We were coming up on the final show of the season, and if I could just make it until then, I could give it a rest, at least for a little while. Of course, I’d need to keep training and making myself stronger for the coming season, but I was sure that I could talk to a trainer and come up with a plan that would work.
If the director found out about my injury now, though, he would want me to sit out the final show, and that just wasn’t going to happen.
I had been working toward this my whole life. I had left North Carolina behind the moment I graduated high school, taking off for Philadelphia to train at a conservatory there. Then, I’d been lucky enough to land a series of dream jobs working on different shows. But here at the Global Traveling Dance Academy of Performing Arts in Paris? That was above and beyond anything that I could ever have hoped for.
It had been two long and grueling years of practice, but all those hours of training, showing up early, listening to the director, smiling, and everything had finally paid off. I had worked my way up through the crew and landed the role that I wanted for this show.
I wasn’t going to give that all up because of a stupid twisted ankle.
“Hey, Audrey, we’re going to go to that gallery opening tonight if you’d like to join us,” Sarah said as we wrapped up practice.
I slung my bag over my shoulder. A gallery opening meant plenty of standing around, and even though I could favor my uninjured ankle, I knew it would exhaust me. Better that I rest up, ice it, keep it elevated, and keep weight off it. I was disappointed because we’d been talking about this gallery opening for weeks now, but I wasn’t going to let my social life come between me and my career.
I faked a yawn. “Honestly, I’m pretty beat,” I said. “Think I’m just going to head home and go check things out another time. You ladies have fun, though.”
Sarah groaned. “You’re such a grandmother!” she said.
The other girls laughed, and I shrugged ruefully. Fortunately, Helene spoke up. “I am also a grandmother, I think,” she said, grinning at me. “Because Audrey is right. All I want tonight is a bubble bath!”
There were more giggles, and I was glad to hear that I wasn’t the only person who didn’t want to go out that night. Part of hiding my injury meant making sure that none of the girls knew what was going on either.
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust them or that I wasn’t good friends with all of them. To be honest, I had a feeling that they could all tell what was going on anyway. All of them had been dancing alongside me for over a year now, most of them for nearly two years. There wasn’t much turnover in this kind of crew.
But the fewer people who knew what was going on, the better. The fewer of them who had any details about what was wrong, the fewer people who could accidentally share something with the director.
If I had been the only person to opt out on tonight’s gallery opening, everyone would start to wonder if I was sick or what. And if they put two and two together and realized I was injured, well, that could be dangerous.
It seemed like the coast was clear for now, though.
Then the director himself pulled me into his office as I was on my way out of the building.
“Is everything all right?” I asked, trying to keep the cheer in my voice as he shut the door carefully behind us.
He sighed as he sat behind his desk. “Audrey,” he said in his cut the crap tone of voice, the one that he normally only used when someone gave him lame excuses for why they were late.
I wracked my brains for any other reason that he could have brought me in there. Surely, he didn’t realize that I was injured. I had done a good job of hiding it. Maybe he just wanted to talk to me about that performance. About the stumble.
If it had been embarrassing for me as a dancer, it must have been just as embarrassing for him as the director. He wanted a show that was flawless. Dancers, he liked to tell us, should look at all times as though they floated on water. Dancers, true dancers, weren’t supposed to stumble.
When I didn’t say anything, the director shook his head. “I know that you’re injured,” he finally said.
I felt my blood run cold, but I managed to pull out the response that I had prepared in case he ever caught on. I gave a small laugh. “You know how important my career is to me,” I told him. “If there was anything seriously wrong, you know that I’d go to the academy’s physician to get checked out.”
In actual fact, I’d done my best not to limp out of there the night that I was injured. I knew that it wasn’t broken, but I also knew that it hurt more than any injury that I’d ever had before. Not that I’d had many serious injuries. I’d been lucky, I’d been careful, and I made sure to do my stretches and my exercises even on my days off.
I knew that as soon as I got checked out by the academy’s physician, my season was probably going to be over. If nothing else, he was going to tell me that I needed to take a week or two off to let myself rest, to let sore muscles heal and all of that.
That would mean that someone would step into my place, though, and that I probably wouldn’t get to dance the final show of the season. And that meant that next year when they were assigning roles, they might give me something a little less “strenuous.”
So instead, I’d gone to one of my friends who happened to be a doctor.
“It’s not good,” he said, pursing his lips. “You shouldn’t dance on this.” He moved my ankle from side to side, and I tried not to wince.
“But I could dance on it?” I asked him.
“You shouldn’t,” he repeated. “It would be very painful, I think.”
“But would it make things any worse?” If it was just a matter of pain, I had spent my whole life dealing with the pain that came with dancing. Did he think that cramming my feet into ballet shoes was comfortable? Heck no! But at the end of the day, it was worth it, and I was sure that this would be as well.
The doctor pursed his lips. “I don’t think so,” he finally said. “You won’t make it better by dancing on it, but you won’t make it worse either, probably. But I wouldn’t recommend it.”
I flashed a smile at him. “That’s all I needed to know.”
Back in the present, the director was giving me a look. “Audrey,” he said again. “I can tell that something must be wrong with it. It’s been weeks now, and you’re still favoring your left ankle. Why haven’t you gone to see the physician?”
I looked down at my hands, feeling ashamed. “I saw a doctor,” I admitted. “Not the academy one but another one. He said that it would be fine to dance on. That I probably won’t make it worse.”
The director shook his head. “That’s not good enough,” he said. “And quite frankly, I don’t like that you tried to hide this from me.” He paused. “I know that this dance troupe is important to you, but you know that your health and the health of all of my dancers is my priority over anything else. I won’t take responsibility for this injury sidelining you for the rest of your life. You’re too young for a career-ending injury.”
“This won’t be that,” I protested. “I really did have it checked out. It’s sore, but there’s nothing broken or torn. It’ll be fine soon. Really.”
“That’s not good enough,” the director repeated, shaking his head. “I’m sending you on a six-month recovery leave.”
AudreyI stared at him, sure that I hadn’t heard him correctly or that he was just trying to scare me and that he would laugh soon. Not that he was that kind of man. Of course, he didn’t laugh, and I faced the chilling truth of things, that he was really planning on sending me on a six-month leave.In silence, he continued to watch me for a reaction.“You can’t do that,” I finally said. He raised an eyebrow at me. “I mean, of course you can do that. But I don’t need six months.”Suddenly, the end of the season seemed minor in relation to everything else. Six months would mean that I would miss out on casting for the fall’s roles and all of the training and everything else.It would put me behind, to a point where I might never come back, no matter how much I wanted to. “Just give me a month off,” I pleaded. “And then I’ll see the academy’s physician to make sure that everything is all right.”The director shook his head. “Six months,” he said levelly. “You know injuries can’t heal ove
JesseI cut into the meat that was simmering on the stove and nodded approvingly. It was just the perfect amount of pink. I turned the stove off and transferred a portion to a plate, scooping out some rosemary-roasted potatoes and steamed vegetables onto the side. Then, I headed into the living room and watched the news as I savored the delicious meal.Afterward, comfortably full, I headed back into the kitchen to put away the leftovers and clean the dishes, still listening with half an ear to the news in the other room. It was my nightly ritual, polished down to an art. There was no better way to relax at the end of a long day of work than to come home and cook a good, satisfying meal and get caught up on what was going on with the world beyond this small town in North Carolina.Like most of the other people my age around here, I had once thought only about how I was going to get the hell out of here. But shit changes. I had responsibilities here, and even though I liked to keep up w
AudreyI got out of my ride and grabbed my bags. For a moment, I just stood there in the driveway, staring up at the family home there in Aberdeen. Oh Lord.Place hadn’t changed since I had left. Not one bit.I looked around, up and down the street. A couple of younger kids were out playing in the cul-de-sac, just like we used to when we were kids. The Leroy house was painted blue now instead of gray, but even that blue paint looked faded and worn now.I looked back at our house. What the hell was I doing here again? For the first time, I started to think about where I would even fit into this life. This was a tiny, two-bedroom house. Back when Annabelle and I were kids, sharing a room had been fine, but what about now? The whole unit wasn’t very big. There would be no getting away from Mom or her boyfriend. We’d constantly be bumping into one another.Not for the last time, I was sure, I found myself feeling homesick for the Academy’s dorms. It was just housing for us dancers, but I’
AudreyI shook my head. “No,” I said. “I love Paris. I don’t want to leave any time soon.” I paused, thinking back over my time there. “The Global Traveling Dance Academy of Performing Arts is so amazing, Annabelle. They’ve helped me so much with my dancing, and—what?”Annabelle was cracking up, and I tried to think about what I’d said. “The Global Academy of Traveling Pants, or whatever it is,” she said, giggling. “Do they make you say that every time you talk about them?”I bristled, unable to help it. “The Global Traveling Dance Academy of Performing Arts,” I corrected. She giggled some more. “It’s one of the most prestigious dance academies in the world.”“Sure,” Annabelle said. “Well, we watched that DVD performance that you sent Mom. Hate to say it, but it all just looks like ballet to me. I mean, really good ballet. But just ballet.”I shrugged, looking down at my hands. I didn’t know what to say to that. I knew that no one here in Aberdeen would ever understand anything about
JesseI was expecting Dan to show up on Saturday morning, which was part of why I hadn’t wanted to draw things out with Joe the night before. Dan owned a restoration company in town, and he always came to me for lumber, tools, and other odds and ends for his crew. He was a big money-maker for the store, one of our best companies. I didn’t trust anyone else to handle business with him.That was partly because Dan was one of the most demanding customers that we had as well. I watched him run his hand down a piece of lumber. He looked up at me with knitted eyebrows. “This the best oak that you’ve got?” he asked. “We’re refinishing countertops and trim in some of those old cabins out by the lake, and the woman who has us doing it wants everything to last into the next century, not just the next decade. Look at all the knots in this piece!”I peered at the sample and then the piece of paper attached to the pile. Then, I nodded, jabbing my finger at it. “Yep, this is the stuff for the trim.
JesseJoe followed me into the back. “Maybe you should have hired the kid on probation,” he said.He didn’t say it loudly enough for Chance to overhear him, but I still gave him a look. “Everyone deserves a chance,” I said.Joe snorted. “Chance deserves a chance,” he said. “That’s really funny, Jesse.”I rolled my eyes. “Come on, get to work.” “Aye aye, boss,” Joe said, saluting me, his eyes twinkling.“Mixed metaphors,” I muttered under my breath, but I couldn’t help grinning as well.We hadn’t done much when Chance came running back to find me. “There’s not enough cash for me to give change,” he said, sounding panicked.I frowned. I had counted the drawer this morning, and unless someone was trying to pay with a really huge bill, there shouldn’t be any problem. Most people paid by card, so I doubted the drawer was already empty. We hadn’t had that many customers in there that morning, even.Joe gave me a look like “can you believe this fucking kid”.“I’ll be right back,” I told him
AudreyWhen I got up on Sunday morning, I could smell breakfast cooking in the kitchen. Bacon, pancakes, orange juice, and who knew what else. Mom always liked to go big on Sunday morning breakfasts, and I was sure going to get big if I started eating like I used to. I’d never get back to dancing again. I really needed to talk to her about that.I was surprised when I wandered into the kitchen, though. Mom beamed at me when she saw me, gesturing toward a plate. “I remembered when we were in Paris that you always ate those egg white omelets and fruit for breakfast,” she said.I knew the omelet had probably been cooked in butter, but I was touched again by the effort that she was making, even though I had just shown up here out of the blue. “Thanks, Mom,” I said, sliding into my seat at the table across from where Annabelle was already seated.“How are you feeling this morning?” Mom asked. “Better?”I nodded, and in fact, I somehow was. I was getting used to the idea of being here, at l
Audrey“That sounds like fun,” Mom said. “I bet you really would love it, Audrey. Maybe you’d run into some of your old friends. You could probably show them a move or two.” She winked at me, and I had to fight not to roll my eyes.Show them a move or two? Did she think I was going to bust out a few of my ballet moves right there in the middle of some small-town bar? It just showed how much she really thought of me and my career.“I’m not in contact with any of my old friends,” I said, hoping that would be the end of the matter. The last thing I wanted to do was go to a bar by myself. I didn’t want to be that desperate stranger standing off to the side, trying to attach myself to a group.I felt another pang of homesickness for my life in Paris. I hadn’t gone out alone in all the time that I’d been there. The other dancers at the Global Traveling Dance Academy of Performing Arts, the ones who had been there for a while, had immediately taken me under their wings when I had arrived, sh