Page 77 of The Unraveling

And I’ve been devouring the book on my breaks, having come to realize that what I said to Isabella is truer than I realized; the story deeply mirrors my own life.

Every night, when I go home, I sleep like a rock. It’s like I spent the day crying or fucking. I just fall into an exhausted rest. I’ve pushed myself to return to peak performance at a grueling pace. The last of the weight I needed to come off has fallen off this week.

It feels good.

I have always loved ballet. It has always felt cathartic. When I was a heartbroken teenager, I used to throw my fury and sadness from my soul to my fingertips and let it rush down my legs and out of my pointed toes. No wonder I was so mad at Jordan all the time.

I wasn’t dancing.

Or maybe that’s the definitely-very-expensive bed I’m sleeping in.

Maybe it’s both.

Yet, despite the deep connection I feel to Manon, I still haven’t been cast. I remind myself that the changeover from finishing up the run of one ballet and switching to another is always hectic. Plus, I’m new and so maybe they just forgot about me? It feels like the casting was done ages ago, and so far no changes were made. Not even adding me to the basic. The basic is the list that tells all dancers what parts they are learning. The closer to the top you are, the more likely you are to perform the role. I don’t care where I’m put, I just need to be added.

I want to go ask, but I’m also terrified. Maybe I royally fucked up with Isabella. About halfway through the week, I started fearing that it’s from my conflict with Arabella. For some reason, she seems to have a lot of power around her. The girls look to her for reactions. There’s a lot of whatever Arabella wants, Arabella gets. She’s the top ballerina at the company right now and it’s extremely obvious that everyone looks to her as the Queen Bee.

I’ve tried to keep busy by performing my best at every rehearsal, and then at night after a performance, being well-behaved and going back to Alistair’s flat instead of for drinks with some of the other dancers. At Alistair’s I feel like I’m staying in a hotel, except that at a hotel, I move things around and make myself more at home. The other day I splashed a little Campari on the white countertop and was terrified it might stain.

Yesterday, I decided that I needed to stay on Arabella’s good side. I made a few jokes and said something about how she should come over and see the flat sometime soon. She gave me a funny look, but then said she’d love to.

Rehearsals have finished early for the day, and I take a deep breath as I leave studio two and consider approaching Sarika or going to look for Isabella to ask about the casting.

I see Isabella across the hall through the glass door in studio three. She’s talking to one of the other girls, smiling warmly and coaching her on her arm movements. Her por de bra in Manon needs to be opposite to the strict classroom technique of Swan Lake, and it can take time for some dancers to let go.

I almost get up the nerve to walk in, but then wuss out. I’ll do it Monday. I’ll definitely do it Monday.

I head instead to the canteen to grab a bag of almonds and a banana before getting ready for the last show of Swan Lake tonight. I’m stopped by the rehearsal coordinator, Kiki, just as I arrive at the elevator.

“Jocelyn, there you are! I’m glad I caught you.”

“Hey!” My chest surges with cold anticipation. Is she going to tell me I’ve been put on the cast list? “The Princess rehearsal finished early,” I say, referring to Waltz of the Princesses, which we spent the last hour doing over and over. “I think we have it down by now.” I laugh, nervous.

She doesn’t laugh. Poor Kiki. She’s always flustered with the thankless job of organizing the lives of over sixty dancers.

“Okay, great.” She sounds stiff. “I came to tell you that you’ve been added to Manon. You can start attending rehearsals Monday.”

“Wait, are you serious?” I let out a howl of relieved breath. “That’s great!” I’m sure it’s just a soloist role or something, but I’m just ecstatic to be included. It was a big scare thinking that maybe I’d get left out. “Okay, so what rehearsal shall I go to, for which role?” I ask.

She looks at me like I’m stupid. “I just told you.”

It takes me a few seconds while she looks at me like a disobedient child. She’s clearly unwilling to clarify.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow. Which role is it?”

“Manon?” She squints at me with an impatient shake of the head. The embodiment of ugh!

“O-oh! For the actual—for the part of Manon? Manon Manon?” My mouth drops open as it dawns on me. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

She rolls her eyes and walks off. She can’t be fucking with me. Kiki is too busy and, ironically, bored to fuck with me.

Fuck the almonds. I need to go home—or “home”—and study up on this role.

“Aah!” I hear a screech down the long hallway, then turn to see Arabella running toward me with her arms out. “You got added to Manon!”

“I did!” I say. “God, how did you hear that already?”

“Honey, when are you gonna learn? I know everything that goes on around here. I’ve got ears everywhere.” She says this last part in a sensuous, threatening way, like a Bond villain. Then she cracks up.

---