Plié
to bend (standing leg or legs) - either demi (half) or grand (big), A ballet movement in which the knees are bent while the back is held straight.
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It was a grey, steady, depressing rain that seemed to wash all the colours from the city, reminding you just how much of the city was built of stone, solid gray and unyielding. Paris had survived the rule of Louis XIV, had watched her citizens rebel in the French Revolution. The city of love had been witness to the German tanks on the Champs Elysées, the very same streets that Napoleon had marched on. But today Paris was shrouded in rain, bearing witness to beginnings and endings
The cafes and bistros, normally boisterous cauldrons of frenetic energy, today were deflated and almost tranquil. I paused in front of the dance studio, a slightly wistful look on my face. Two female mannequins in leotards, tutus and tights stood on the toes of one foot with the other leg extended behind them at an angle near perpendicular to their arched torsos in the display window.
One was smaller and shaped like a prepubescent little girl, the other taller and shaped like an older teenager. As I regarded the mannequins, a woman and her little girl walked - the girl actually skipped - into the door, the child dressed just like the mannequin in the window even if in brighter colors.
It was cute. I used to love ballet as much as the little girl has. It used to be fun -- it has been all my life now but I couldn't pin point if I even started living and breathing it in
What is life all about?
The answer to this will be different for every person, naturally. And I think I finally defined mine.
Before, I used to think that life is about success: working hard to accomplish goals, establishing your career, seeing your dreams come true.
But then when I turned 23, I realized It is not about having big ambitions, a colossal vision, and be never-ending goals alone. It is about creating aspirations for yourself, and then watching yourself as you see it all come true. That is what life is about - making YOURSELF happy through the things that you see YOURSELF do.
Five years ago I moved to Paris. It was a forced move, a difficult one, one that made me sadder than any 18-year old should ever have to be. I left everything behind and moved to a country whose language I couldn't even find the right intonation to. Not the point.
I moved to Paris in May and lived in 29, Boulevard St Germain75005 Paris, where my mother had lived for a couple of years prior to teaching at Ballet Manila.
Occasionally, before the dreadful school year started in L'Academe Royale de Danse, My mother would take me out to trips to Paris and show me around. France was one of a kind, rough around the edges, but beautiful; She thought I needed to see it.
Paris wasn't what I expected. Pictures, photographs, lessons of history forced me to romanticize the city. I expected grandeur everywhere. I expected to see everything beautiful, luxurious, flawless. But when I arrived I realized that it was just another big city.
It was a living, breathing, functioning city. It wasn't preserved for tourists, and it certainly wasn't waiting to impress me upon my arrival.
A few unpleasant experiences in my first week made me very homesick; there were several times that I strongly considered changing my flight and cutting my trip short. But with a pinch of rationality I stopped the panic and hoped for the better.
I can't recall the exact moment when I fell in love, but sometime during my second week here it clicked. Yes, Paris is a big, dirty, living city. But what makes it wonderful is its beauty and grace. It's different because despite being a big city it is elegant, it is classy.
Through its architecture, language, cultural habits, it is preserved. Storing hundreds years of history, and being home to thousands of famous, notable people, it holds the prestige, mystery, and admiration.
The cafe was only steps from my Paris apartment but I seemed not in a hurry to leave, content to sit and sip, perhaps forestalling the inevitable. The remaining patrons were all local and the patois rolled over and around them and like the background music.
"Well you're on the prime of your years in Paris, made your dream come true, where are you off to next? I don't imagine you will stop here."
The words mellowed inside of me and made me very happy. That others see me as someone who does something about her dreams is an honor.
I thought about it: where AM I off to next? For someone who never stops striving, it is absolutely important for me to update my goals and realms of pursuit.
My coffee was getting cold. I stared down at it as if it had wounded me. Through the brownish liquid I could see my reflection, my eyes distant and narrow. The coffee would do me some good seeing as I hadn't slept for a good two nights.
He was on my mind again. Everywhere I looked I would see him. Everything I did reminded me of him. Even the coffee gave some stark reminiscence of him. No matter how beautiful it is, Paris City choked me. It held a tight grip around my neck.
I was a slave to it, I worked too hard, I slept too little, I go about the miles-per-second pace that it requires to survive. I don't stop. I do, a lot. Not a rhythm lost, or a second missed. I'm in a continuous race with time, hoping that by the end of each day I win.
I don't know why I've been feeling so low lately. I don't feel happy, I don't feel sad, I'm not even angry. Lately, my emotions were just all jumbled up and I have that uneasy feeling in my stomach. All I did is wishing that everything made sense, that I knew exactly what was happening to me. But the truth is I don't and for some reason, it's slowly killing me inside
There's something missing, my life is missing a crucial element. Hopefully with time I will find the answer to what that is, and with that answer, forever expel this recurring loneliness.
I just want to be happy, always.
I wish I could know that everything will be great in due time. I'm so afraid of not becoming the person I want to see myself be. I want to know that my mistakes will be nothing but learning opportunities, and will never stand in the way of my future success.
But who can guarantee that....other than myself?
This was sad. Talking to myself was becoming some sort of habit I had developed. I actually carried on decent intellectual conversations with my mind. They entertained me.
"Mom?" I called out as I got to the studio-type apartment that I happened to share with my mother. I unbuttoned my jacket, pulled my earphones out and unplugged them from my phone.
I opened the cupboard door and hung up my jacket, kicking my shoes off at the same time. I began to walk barefooted, holding my shoes at my left hand. I just came from La Caféothèque where I drank my usual morning coffee with Lisa, another Hungarian Ballerina I worked with
I frowned slightly, there was something off. I couldn't place it; it was like a pebble in my shoe except this was in my head. I concentrated, trying to make sense of it. I shrugged off my jacket and slung my purse into the chair in the dining room. I glanced at the stack of magazines on the table.
"Mama?" I said again. This time, I was in the kitchen and I found it empty then I saw a note on the fridge saying she was out doing grocery. I got the note and threw it in the bin. The silence has been the worse.Not knowing what to do or think. Staring at the screen or at the phone.Just hoping...It's endless,I hate this silence.
My mind had been occupied mulling over what I was going to do. I knew there was nothing I could do until Monday morning so I just had to get through the next few days.
And I decided to have a general cleaning while my mother's away. I haven't been a homebuddy for awhile now. Last month has been crazy considering the audition I did for Giselle and the rehearsal every other day—it exhausts me.
Silently I moved through the darkness toward my mother's bedroom after cleaning the living room. Carefully reaching over, I pulled back the covers and sheet and tucked it neatly. While I was humming my own tune --- vacuuming my mother's carpeted room, I noticed that something was stuck in it. I bent and began to pick it up on my own.
It was one bulk of envelope—no, letters to be exact and when I began to open it, I saw an all-too-familiar penmanship. It was nostalgic at the same time it made my heart squeeze a little. There was something in it as I began to read
Dear, Flower
Nothing yet has really sunk in, it all looks exactly like it always did. Pictures and presents hanging around my room. An old movie stub from a movie we saw together on the desk. Sometimes I think I can smell your perfume when I am driving alone.I hate driving to places alone, I miss you next to me.
Sometimes I scan the crowd I'm in and see all the couples. Empty chairs are my ideal partner these days.
I still smile inside myself when someone mentions your name. I feel the warmth spread from the center of my chest outwards; treading slowly towards my limbs. I feel that tingle run a marathon over my skin, leaving me trembling as I imagine you near me.
I miss you when I least expect it.
The craving for your presence blindsides me, catches me, and leaves me breathless. I miss you by my side; brushing against you unintentionally, catching a whiff of your curls, or stealing a quick glance.
Everything reminds me of you.
I love you Monique. I love you so much I sit here perplexed trying to figure out which words to write to express how I feel, but I can't let it but come out of my pores. My fingers could never conceive how I feel to write such things. What I know and feel is indescribable, inexpressible, and just plain beautiful.
But there was more underneath my mother's bed. Picking up the old box, I wondered what could be inside the box. There was no return address and the label only said my name in big black letters but I knew from the penmanship itself, I knew it was from Travis.
I wondered briefly why would my own mother kept this things from me when in fact she always told me that Travis stopped writing back for over two years now but the letter says it has been sent three years prior.
I ripped into the box, I found new things to wonder about. Inside the package, I found an odd assortment of Valentine's Day goodies... some romantic, some naughty, some just downright strange. I dug around the contents of the box, trying to find another note
Then after digging the box, I've caught another letter with the same penmanship and another after another until I realized it has so many letters inside it.
Dear,Flower
I haven't heard anything from you for months now and I miss you—terribly. I know you're out there making your dreams happen and I always wanted you to know that no matter what you achieved in life, I'll always be here. I miss you
I walked out into the garden last night. I stood alone and looked around me. I felt my gaze moved upwards. I saw one small star amongst a sky of clouds. One small star and I saw you. There you were, rushing through my thoughts and making me miss you more than ever.
I see you everywhere. I see you in everything I do.
I see you in every movie I watched. I hear you in every song line on our favorite song. I feel you near me as I put on my cologne and I stumble upon yours between mine. I stare at that empty seat next to me as I go anywhere. I see face stare back at me each morning. I feel your happiness complementing mine.
I need you with me Things change. Things remain.
Once someone asked me if I still loved you the same. If it was as strong. I think I only smiled.
I only smiled because it filled me with joy to know that I loved you even more. To know that things were better now.
Maybe the whole point of this has changed, but the idea in the back remains: I love you and I will always do.
I guess that's all that matters.
I took a deep breath and wiped at my eyes to clear away the half-formed tears. I thought about that last night with Travis and how sweet it had been.
We both knew I was leaving in the morning and that it was our last time together. I remembered how Travis had kissed me and how I had returned those kisses trying to drag his tongue as deep into my mouth as I could. . I smiled as I remembered his reaction when I stood up and took off my blouse and then my bra.
"Flower. No" He protested and wrapped his own jacket on me "We can't.. not now. I want our first time together to be something we're both ready. I don't want to pressure you just because you're leaving"
"Trav, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you....I wouldn't ever do that." I pulled him to me and kissed him. He immediately wrapped his arms around me and began to kiss me back.
"I'm not embarrassed, Nik" He said as he broke our kiss "I just blush real easy....especially around some one as pretty as you are. I've never been real good around girls...too tongue tied and bashful.....I never seem to say or do the right thing--"
Travis barely had time to understand what he wanted to say completely before my mouth descended on him. He instinctively opened his mouth for my tongue as I threw my arms around his neck.
I felt his hands settle on my waist and pull me harder up against him. My toes curled, my knees going weak as his tongue licked against mine and he sucked on my lips. I felt his manhood begin to thicken and swell against my belly and I began to moan against his mouth.
He deepened the kiss, practically lifting me off my feet, and
I was breathless when he put me back down and broke the kiss. I opened my eyes and stared up at him, wonderingly. It was the perfect first kiss - intimate and wildly erotic. I normally would have been embarrassed to act so bold
He still held my waist under my shirt, and I still had my arms around his neck and we held each other silently for a moment, smiles on both our faces, then he lifted a hand and began to stroke my face, fingers trailing from my forehead along my hairline and down one cheek to my chin. I closed my eyes again as he whispered next to my ear "I love you. Don't forget that"
I smiled to myself as I thought of our dates, the first one Monday evening had been a movie and then a trip to the ice skating Rink....I had not skated since I was a small kid, but I had thoroughly enjoyed myself with Travis. Then all those times when we had gone out Wednesday night, bowling and then played Putt-Putt golf.
When he walked me to the door Friday night, I could tell he was debating whether or not to try. I smiled and remembered how we had stood there, almost toe to toe, on that dark porch facing each other.
I had raised my arms and put them around his neck lacing my fingers together, as I told him how much I had enjoyed the concert. The goodnight kiss just followed naturally.
How I missed those times. I missed it. I missed him
Life does things to you. Actually no, you do things to life. Sometimes you calculate it all and it comes out all premeditated. It makes sense. You visualize it, you analyze it, and you do it. Your proud of what you've done. You hope for the best.
Yet, sometimes you do things and you don't really think about it. It's like you were partially blindfolded. You have no idea what's going on behind the blinds, but you think you're on the right path. I mafe choices in life and sometimes, choices make me nowPeople make mistakes.I' ve made too many.
I've lost the moon while I was busy counting the stars. I lost him
Where does this leave me? Who have I become? Am I still the same person? Am I really making the same stupid mistakes all over again? Did I calculate this? Or was I partially blindfolded?
I actually don't know anything anymore. I walk aimlessly and I fear the next step.
What have I done?
Life for me has almost always been rather easy and good. I didn't have to fight to get the things I wanted but now I hardly know where to begin. My life's a mess and I might have lost the only woman I have ever loved.
"Monique? Monique?" My mother's voice echoed in the entire room and when she found me kneeling next to his bed on her room, she was surprised.
I began to wipe my own face as tears began streaming down my face. I pulled my self together and scowled at her "How long, Mama? How long have you been keeping this to me?" I said throwing the letters right in front of her "You had this for three years!"
"Nikki. It's for your own good!" My mother said, her voice oddly flat. I studied her curiously for a moment, but her face was unreadable.
"For my own good? Mother! You manipulated my life! All this time, You fed me up with lies! I thought he forgot about me like you said.. all this time I thought he didn't want me anymore. All the letters, the withered flowers—you've kept them all and you tell me it's for my own good? I can't believe you!" I said walking past her and moving to the living room where I sat and frustratingly ran my fingers through my hair
"It's for your own good, Monique.." Mother said gently "I don't want you to end up like me. I want to make myself sure of keeping you intact, you must give your heart to no one, it will only destroy you. And if wrapping you carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; I'll lock you up for your own safety-- in the casket or coffin of my own selfishness If I must"
"That doesn't answer my question mother!" I wasn't trying to play ignorant, but I wasn't sure what my own mother was getting at.
"Your father" I hadn't noticed my mothers' tears because my own eyes were blinded by them. "I think that's when I fell in love with him," She admitted, her voice a broken whisper. "I think seeing that made my whole perspective on life change. He was my inspiration. And when he left...so is my inspiration. I don't want you to end up like me.. you got a whole world ahead of you. This guy, Travis whoever he is, he'll destroy you, Nikki"
What do you say to something like that?
I felt as if my heart was breaking just by hearing my mother speak about my father whom I haven't met. His existence was still a mystery for my 23 years of existence. I sat in silence listening to my mother's sobs. With every sharp breath, I felt my own sobs about to overflow.
I did. I always had but once again I had managed to overlook it. Travis might be a hazard to me. It was so plainly written in all of the things he did. His affect on me had passed right over my head. To me, it had felt as if I was carrying on normal but to my own mother it had been obvious.
"I have to go see him. I need to have a talk with him," I repeated my words in my head. I sounded like a stern mother reproaching her child.
"He isn't good for you, Nikki." I could only scoffed as I heard my mother from behind me.
"How could you tell what's good for me, Mama? Have you asked me? Have you thought I was even happy? You didn't, Mama!"
"No, listen to me Nikki. If you have someone who changes how you think and how you see the world, are now able to accept everything around you in a positive light, the way you live changes. But once that is cut off, where does that leave you? You will pushed back into your unhappiness. You'll relapse."
"The motherly advice is a bit over due, Mama." I brought up my suit case from below my bed and began going back and fort on my walk-in closet. "I don't think there's anything sadder than when two people are meant to be together and something intervenes." I finally zipped my suit case after dumping my toiletries inside it. I turned around and regarded my mother with a stern look "The worst feeling is regretting not having done something when you had the chance—I don't want to wake up one day having those feelings" I got my suitcase from my bed and started pulling it with me
"Where on hell are you going?" She tailed me from behind as she began to panic. I needed to get away to renew myself. I needed to re-learn how to breathe. I needed to stop worrying about little things and big things. I needed to de-stress. I needed to forget what it's like to work all the time. I needed a change of pace.
I'm afraid to look back at any given moment in my life and say: "I wish I did that then," or "I wish I tried harder," or "I wish I could do it all over again, but differently this time."
"I wanted to do something for myself this time, Mama. I'm going back." I tossed the rest of my clothes on my suit case before I turned around and face her once again "I'm going back for him, Mama.. for good"
"You can't do this! You're insane! You're throwing away your dreams for this.. guy?" She said blocking my way through the door
I let out a bitter laughter and said
"No, Ma.. I'm not throwing away my dreams. I'm throwing away yours"
And with that, I slammed the door to her face.