pas de deux - josh kiszka

chapter five- little swan

one hundred and twenty-seven days until opening night

Waking up was difficult each morning. From the moment my eyes would shoot open, my joints would explode in angry swelling, and my bones would creek like an uneven swing set. Every morning I took a deep breath, hoisted my aching bones off the bed and leapt into my day, no warming up.

I had woken up earlier than usual, so instead of raw-dogging the day, I decided to take care of myself. I sat on my bedroom floor, and spread my legs out into a V. I slowly massaged down one leg, then the other. Knot after knot came undone until my legs felt like jelly. I moved onto my feet, until they were jelly too.

My shoulders were a lost cause with only myself as the masseuse, and all I could do was to rub some Icy Hot on them and go about my day. A temporary fix for a much, much, bigger problem.

I dragged myself out the door, and down the street, all the way to the god forsaken bus stop. Plopping myself down on the bench, my mind began to float untethered inside itself.

I was looking forward to continuing the Pas de Trois today. The progress I'd made was a marvel to me. I could close my eyes and feel my body doing what it was supposed to. It was a dream. My thread pulled tight at all times, bound and fluid. Direct.

The bus hummed along its path as it approached me, and swallowing down a sigh, I walked up the steps to board it. The bus was just like every other day. The same people, the same Josh sitting in the same seat on the left side of the bus.

Without a second thought, I waved and smiled at him. His curls were falling over his eyes, shrouding his eyes in wavy shadows. The shadows did their best to conceal his gaze, but failed beautifully.

He greeted me back with a wink and my heart rose and fell in my chest in response. There was some kind of butterfly in my stomach that I couldn't identify, and a flush to my cheeks.

Walk faster. Walk faster. The blush that had taken over my face was all too noticeable, and I rushed past him to sit down before he noticed.

My body hit the seat, and my head found its way to the window to rest before the day really began. I closed my eyes and breathed in the fresh morning dew that spilled its scent through the cracked windows. It was fresh. A fresh breath so early fueled the fire that dwindled so low and brought me up to speed. Like coffee.

As the bus neared our stop, my fingers began to weave in and out from underneath each other, fiddling in nervousness.

More rehearsals today that I cannot fuck up. Okay.

In, out. Slowly. Breathe.

In, out. Slowly. Breathe.

My breathing became regular - or, as close to regular as can be. I hopped off the bus once we arrived and entered the studio.

I sat down against my favorite wall, and began to stretch my limbs before we warmed up. My left leg tucked in, and my right leg outstretched, I pivoted into a pigeon pose. I leaned forward into it, then leaned my head backwards, creating a soft "U" shape. I repeated the same on the other side. I felt the thread of movement extend and become itself with every stretch I did.

As warmups began, I took my spot at the barre and took a deep breath. A slow breath. For control.

In, out. Slow. For control.

Another.

In, out. Slow. For control.

One more.

In, out. Slow. For control.

And thus we began our plies. With every bend, a current ran through my limbs, like a fire. Like an engine that was revving itself up and then faltering, then revving itself up again. The backs of my legs burnt with every releve and subsequent grand plie, but the burn was careful. It crept from my thighs, down to my calves, all the way down to my ankles and through to my toes, warming my tired bones inch by inch.