Page 76 of The Unraveling

She sat next to me, put an arm around my shoulder, and pulled me into her. “Come here,” she said. “It’s okay. I know. It’s okay.”

I cried even harder at the unexpected kindness, and for ten minutes, that was all I could do. She said nothing, just rubbing my arm and telling me it was okay.

When finally my breathing started to normalize, my mom said, “Did you have sex with him?”

The moment with my mom was so precarious. I didn’t want to tip her in the wrong direction and receive her wrath. But I couldn’t muster the energy to lie, so I just nodded.

“Ah,” she said.

“It—it was only last night,” I said.

She hesitated a moment, and said, “You had sex with him last night? For the first time?”

“Yeah,” I said, choking on my breath.

“Your first time?”

“Yeah.”

“His?”

“I don’t think so.”

She let her head fall, gave it a slow shake. “Fucking men,” she said, then.

I couldn’t have possibly been more surprised by this reaction.

“You want to know the best thing to do when you’re upset?” she asked.

I sniffed. “What?”

“Go to the movies. Go see a sad movie and just cry it out in the dark theater. What do you think?”

“What do—”

“Let’s go to the movies. We can get some popcorn. Come on.” She patted my tear-covered thigh twice and then stood up. “I’ll put dinner away and we’ll have something out. Come on.”

I stood weakly and followed her inside.

An hour later, we were at the local movie theater watching some sappy romantic drama. I didn’t remember the name, and I barely knew what was going on, but it helped. I just cried and ate salty food and sugary candy.

My mom cried, too, and I wondered if it was about the movie or something else.

It wasn’t until later that night as I crawled into bed that I realized and understood what I had learned about my mom that night. My mom understood heartbreak.

And she went to the movies an awful, awful lot.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Aweek has gone by, and I haven’t yet been added to any of the Manon rehearsals.

I’m freaking the hell out.

It’s Saturday afternoon, and the last show of Swan Lake is tonight. The week has been exhausting. One ballet is finishing and another is beginning, so rehearsals are going on for both ballets: Swan Lake, which I can basically do in my sleep at this point, as over the course of my career so far I have probably danced it two hundred times, and Manon, which is widely known in the ballet world to be emotionally draining for the leads and a blast for the corps and soloists. I envy the girls I see walking out of the rehearsals for the brothel scene. They’re all giggling with big smiles on their faces, alight from doing such a naughty ballet.

Swan Lake, on the other hand, is quite serious.

To keep from panicking about Manon, I have thrown myself into the last Swan Lake performances and rehearsals, despite how dreary they feel in comparison to learning something new and different. The ballet Manon is not full of classical stature and tutus like Swan Lake but instead with tight-laced corsets, jewels, and freedom of movement. I’ve been sneaking in to watch some Manon rehearsals this past week when I have a moment.

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