one month and thirty days until opening night
Tendue, and back. Tendue, and back. Degage, and back. Now de cote. Tendue, and back. Tendue, and back. Degage, and back. Derriere. Tendue, and back. Tendue, and back. Degage, and back.
Finish. Breathe.
As we continued our warmup, my mind wandered around the room aimlessly. In every precise movement, I could feel there was an invisible thread, pulling itself through my limbs, pushing the movement through, past my fingertips. I felt it loosen periodically.
"Now! Up!" Paul clapped, emphasizing his directions. "On releve dancers... now passe!" Clap.
"Passe!" Clap.
"Retire, quarter turn!" Clap.
"Now retire! Pirouette!" Clap.
I felt myself stumble out of the pirouette, and gripped the barre for stability.
Fuck.
Every single movement I make is either a reason for Paul to regret his decision, or a reason for him to consider me invaluable to the company.
One stumble, and I look up at Paul, who is looking at me, visibly displeased.
Fuck. In and out, slowly. Try and breathe. Fuck.
Classes continued and it was as if the thread unraveled and knit itself together whenever it felt like it. As if I was not in control of my limbs; I was a skeleton dancer with bones of string.
Exasperated with my body's lack of control, I trudged to the back of the building for the hour-long lunch break. I was dizzy with frustration as I collapsed onto the cold concrete. Alleyway walls created a deep, comforting shade that I felt at home in.
Silently, I opened up my lunch and took my time to finish it. The food helped the dizziness somewhat, but it wouldn't fix much in the long run. With a breath I fished my cigarettes out of my dance bag.
The flick of my lighter lit a warmth in my chest, and as I breathed in the sweet smog, the edge softened.
In, and out. Inhale. Exhale.
In, and out. Inhale. Exhale.
I closed my eyes in passive contentment, letting the sound of the wind caressing the surrounding buildings lull me to a clear mind. The chatter of humans echoed from down the street, and every now and then one would pass the alley in some kind of hurry.
They blew past the buildings like the wind did, rushing to get to some unknown destination, fairly unseen but tangible enough to feel. The smell of the cold wind filled my nostrils and I exhaled in oneness.
My phone began to buzz intermittently, drawing my attention from whatever bliss I was attempting to reach at noon on the floor of an alleyway whilst smoking a cigarette.
Opening up my phone, I breathed in sharply in a nervous gasp. The cast list had been posted on the call board.
I willed my bones to move, to creak and croak their way up to a standing position, but it was as if the weight of nervous energy held me down. Too afraid.
I hoped my words to Paul yesterday were enough to convince him of my tenacity. He didn't make a mistake. He hasn't seen the best of me yet.
I broke my paralysis and gathered my things. I hustled into the building, feeling my heart jump up and down. Hard to breathe when you're rushing through stuffy hallways to see if you were cast.
Either way, in and out. Slowly. Breathe.
In and out. Slowly. Breathe.
I stopped in front of the call board and halted my breath as I scanned for my name.
Indigo Adams. The Pas de Trois in Act I, and... Dance of the Little Swans.
I took a full gasp and stepped back. My hand covered my mouth in surprise and excitement.
He took a chance again. I can't stumble anymore. No unraveled strings from now on.
I got a hold of the loose thread that held me together for a moment, feeling my movements reach their full potential, before they even happened.
Dance of the Little Swans.
Oh my God.
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hey friends!
im sorry these chapters are a bit short, next chapter i promise will be a bit longer!!
stay crispy :p
- sav
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pas de deux - josh kiszka
Fanfiction"in. out. slowly. breathe. together." - two ballet dancers rehearse for nashville ballet's production of swan lake. passion ensues.
