“Always.”
“Do you think I should try for the staff showcase this year?”
Her expression shifted into one of neutrality. “It depends,” she said after a telling beat. “Is that something you’re interested in?”
I picked at my toast. “Maybe.”
“Have you talked to your doctor about dancing again?”
“No.” I shredded my poor toast into further pieces. “Do you think I should?”
Carina had supported my decision to abstain all these years, but she’d never offered her personal opinion on the matter.
She raised her mug to her lips again. “I think the fact you’re even considering it is your answer.”
Carina and Asher’s words played in my mind the rest of the weekend.
On Sunday night, I booked a virtual appointment with my doctor.
On Monday morning, I met with Lavinia during her office hours and broached the possibility of joining the staff showcase before I lost my nerve.
As it turned out, I needn’t have bothered.
“Auditions closed last week.”
A sharp intake of breath betrayed my surprise.
I didn’t have my doctor’s sign-off yet. There was also a chance my newfound motivation would fizzle, and I’d regret my decision by the time the showcase rolled out.
But if that were the case, why did I feel so disappointed?
Lavinia studied me, her eyes sharp and knowing behind her glasses. “Is there a reason why you’re so interested in this showcase? You’ve declined to participate every other year.”
“I like Lorena’s choreography?” It came out more like a question than an answer.
The subtle arch of Lavinia’s brow displayed her skepticism.
I couldn’t get anything past her so, despite the rock lodged in my gut, I explained my reasoning and focused on my desire to take the stage again, if only for a night. Hopefully, she didn’t pick up on my skyrocketing anxiety when I talked about the performance.
I should’ve thought this through before talking to Lavinia, but I was in too deep to back out now.
This is what spontaneity gets me. A speech begging for something I’m not sure I even want.
Except the more I spoke, the more I started to believe what I was saying.
I wanted to prove I could do it.
I wanted to feel the exhilaration of dancing again.
I wanted one last show on my terms, not the universe’s. That was one of the hardest things I had to accept—that my career had ended due to something as unpredictable as a car accident.
If I’d known, I would’ve better appreciated my last moments onstage. I would’ve had more closure.
“I see.” Lavinia leaned back and steepled her fingers. Her lips thinned into a slash of red against porcelain skin. At sixty, she possessed a better complexion than most women my age. “You’ve worked here for four years, Scarlett. You know I believe rules exist for a reason and that willful disregard for said rules leads to disorder. I despise disorder.”
The rock in my gut expanded, dragging my heart and hopes to the ground. “I understand.”
I should’ve checked the audition deadline before I wasted her time. I’d been so afraid I would lose my nerve if I waited that I’d barged in and made a fool of myself instead.
I resisted the urge to slide down in my seat and hide.
“That being said, I’m aware yours is a special circumstance,” Lavinia said. “You’ve been a valuable member of the RAB family for a while now. If we can’t provide a measure of flexibility for one of our own, then how can I expect loyalty in return?”
A tiny sprig of hope sprouted past my misgivings.
“I can’t promise you’ll be onstage. We’ve assigned all the roles already,” she said. The sprig wilted. “However…” The spring perked up again. “We still need an understudy for Yvette, who’s playing Lorena. If you’re interested, the position is yours. It’s not what you asked for, but it’s all I can offer—pending final approval from your doctor, of course.”
“Of course.” Fingers crossed Dr. Stein has good news for me. “I would love to be the understudy. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Lavinia said dryly. “Let’s see if you feel the same way in a few months.”
Being an understudy was one of the most difficult jobs in ballet. They had to learn the choreography, the musicality, and every spot of the performance without stepping on the principal’s toes, figuratively speaking, and they were expected to do all that without the promise of a turn in the spotlight.
Since the showcase was only one night, my chances of performing were low, but it felt good to do something again.
A pinprick of excitement buzzed through me. I hadn’t shaken off my hang-ups about reentering the world of ballet, but it’d be nice to fall back into a headspace where anything was possible and nothing could stop me.
