Page 95 of The Unraveling

“No, we need a minute,” says Arabella.

They let the doors shut, and I see them look at each other just before they close all the way.

Fuck. I do not want to do this with her before rehearsal. She’s first on the basic for Manon, so I was hoping to just stare at the back of her head the whole time and learn the steps from her, never having to actually interact.

“I’m sorry, Arabella,” I say, reluctant to give her anything, but knowing things work best when Arabella is happy. She leans on the wall, arms crossed, waiting for me to go on. “I shouldn’t have implied that you”—I look around, making sure no one is listening—“fucked for your roles. I know you’re good. I know you didn’t do that, and I shouldn’t have said that.”

I hit the button again for the elevator.

“Of course, darling! I forgive you. I said we’re like lovers, aren’t we? So we get heated. I like this fiery side of you that’s coming out. It’s sexy.”

It’s not a completely accurate reporting of what happened. It’s not as if we were arguing and things escalated. She bit me, for fuck’s sake. After having more than one tantrum at me. And I snapped and said her rude words back to her. That’s what happened.

I think of her and Cynthia, who scream at each other more than speak. I wonder why Cynthia puts up with it.

The elevator dings and then opens again.

“Well, see you.” I give a little wave and step into the elevator.

She gives me an amused, puzzled look as the doors shut again.

“God,” I whisper to myself.

Thanks to the little run-in, I don’t get to rehearsal early at all, arriving right at three. I open the door to studio five, seeing that the earlier rehearsal has dispersed and the dancers are grabbing their things and dance bags and starting to rush off to their next rehearsal, break, or costume fitting. There is always something next.

I set my bag down and quickly get ready. Pointe shoes on, warm-ups off. Today, I’m in a drapey lavender chiffon practice skirt that hits right below my knees. I take a few stretches, breathing deeply, trying to release the stress of the conversation with Arabella.

After a few minutes, I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s three oh five. Where is everyone else? There are only stragglers putting their warm-ups back on or stretching while scrolling their phones before heading off. None of the dancers who should be here, are here.

There are three other women learning the role of Manon. They should be here with their partners. The room should be abuzz with all of us. Am I in the wrong studio? I must be, right?

I go over to the pianist. “Excuse me.”

She looks up from the notes she’s writing on the sheet music. “Yes?”

“Am I in the right place for Manon and Des Grieux rehearsals? It was supposed to be three to five, but I don’t see anyone here who should be. Except you, obviously.” I laugh awkwardly.

She smiles politely. “You’re in the right place. It actually begins at three fifteen. Union rules, there has to be some space between rehearsals. I don’t know what good that does, I’d rather get home fifteen minutes early if we’re taking time somewhere.”

“Right. Okay. Well, thank you.”

Just then, the doors swing open.

Isabella, who is setting the ballet, and with her is Luca.

I knew he’d be here, of course, but I didn’t expect the little lift of glee I feel when I see him. Not romantic feelings, more like the feeling of having a secret with your very best friend.

“Hello, Jocelyn. Please forgive us for running a little late. Or at least, it’s late to me, I usually prefer to be early. I’m glad to see you do, too.”

“Of course,” I reply. “I was a little confused at first,” I confess. “I thought the other dancers would be here by now.”

She looks confused, and then, understanding, she says, “Oh, no, dear. It’s just you and Luca. I need to catch you up.”

Luca smiles at me, and I smile back.

I breathe out a sigh of relief, glad I’ll have a chance to be caught up, and gladder that he is my partner. I know he’s an incredible dancer, and I know for certain now that he has a very gentle touch.

“I’ve danced the ballet before, so I’ve got you, Jocelyn,” Luca says softly.

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