pas de deux - josh kiszka

chapter one - in & out, slowly.

two months until opening night.

Breathing. In and out, slowly. In and out, slowly. Slowly. I took lung after lung of breath trying to swallow down the nerves that stuck to the insides of my chest. My head rested, rattling, on the bus window, and with each deep breath, I created a fog on an otherwise clear surface.

My cold hands crossed and bounced over my lap, marking the Black Swan variation I was going to dance for the Nashville Ballet Company's Swan Lake auditions. As I closed my eyes, I could see myself gliding across the floor, technique so strong, and so delicate. The 32 fouette turns. Expertly executing each precise movement, and gracefully finishing, knowing I had secured my spot.

With all my focus being on my Black Swan daydream, I lost control of my breathing, and could feel my heart almost beating out of my chest, and jumping out my throat. My attention returned to my breath.

In. Out. Slowly.

In. Out. Slowly.

Slowly.

Fill one lung. Then the other.

Breathe.

The cycle continued as the bus rattled onwards and finally completed the journey. I took one more breath for the road and gathered my things.

Walking through the cold foyer and into the giant studio where the company warmed up, I adjusted my leotard, and smoothed down my bun. Nerves would get the best of me if I didn't look my best, or if I forgot to breathe, or if I let myself do this audition without warming up.
So, as our plie routine began, the breathing exercise did too.

One. Demi-plie. In. Two. Up. Out. Three. Demi-plie. Slowly. Four. Grand plie. Breathe.

The rest of our warmups sped by and the company's choreographer Paul Vasterling entered the room, causing every dancer to quiet.

"Ladies and gentlemen." His voice echoed across the room. "If you'll follow me to Studio B, we will begin auditions for our company's production of Swan Lake."

Auditions began and I breathed through every beat of my heart until it was my turn to dance. I found my starting position, and as the piano score commenced, the movement began, and I was free. All of my wound up gears loosened. My shoes thunked across the studio floor as I glided around the room. With every movement, every sway, every shift in weight, I translated any nerves, emotions, and feelings of doubt into power and sharp movements. Freedom.

I finished the variation, chest rising and falling, in, out, quickly. Breathing hard and deep to slow down my heart rate, which was running as if I had just ran a marathon. I nodded my head as a respectful "thank you," gathered my things and exited the room to stretch and pass the time until auditions finished.

Time did in fact pass, and the large studio once more filled with dancers filing out of the audition room, along with Paul.

"I'm cutting the rest of the day short, myself and the rest of the board of directors have a lot to discuss." You could hear a collective sigh of relief from the company. As I packed up my things, though, Paul approached me.

"Could I speak to you Indy?"

My heart, bless it, began to race again. Nervously, I responded.

"Sure. In your office, Paul?"

He nodded in response, and I followed him into the bougie Artistic Director's office he resided in.

"Sweetheart, I just wanted to sit down with you quickly. I really liked what I saw in there today. Really. I'm very excited at the prospect of you now being promoted to soloist. I want to remind you, as well, though, that you were promoted recently, yes, but we took a chance on you. Your technique is not near the same level as your other soloist counterparts. We want to know if we can count on you to do what you did in that audition room again."

My breath hitched and I opened my mouth to speak. "Mr. Vasterling–"

"Because if this was just a fluke, we need to know. Be honest."

I sighed softly. "Mr. Vasterling, you know almost as much as I do that this is my life. I don't believe this was a... fluke... as you put it. And if somehow I don't manage to do that again, you of all people should know how hard I will work to get it back to that level, if not higher."

He raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"Yes. I want you to know you didn't make a mistake. I will prove to you I'm worth this spot."

"Okay." He said matter-of-factly. "You're free to go. Thank you for your time."

I hastily gathered my things and exited the building, stuffing the embarrassment down in my chest. I waited for the bus at the stop and breathed in and out, slowly. Slowly.

If my technique isn't on the same level as the others... I don't understand why I was promoted. Why put that pressure on me when they don't think I can live up to it? Do they want me to fail?

Thoughts upon thoughts as the bus approached carefully. I boarded the bus and found my usual seat.

I laid my head on the window, just like I did that morning, and observed the twinkling lights. Blinking at me, oblivious to the rest of the world. Shining without any doubts. Different colors, yellow, red, green lights, white lights, various LED lights shining through apartment windows. The colors of the night.

In. Out. Slowly.

Breathe.

In. Out. Slowly.

Breathe.