THIRTY-FOUR
Willow
An announcement: “Due to an injury earlier today, the role of The Firebird will be danced by Miss Willow Rose.”
At the mention of my name, every nerve in my body sparked. I almost had to pinch myself to make sure this wasn’t a dream. But then, as the electrifying music started up and the curtain rose, I knew this was for real. I, Willow Rosenthal, was about to dance on stage at Lincoln Center in one of the most coveted roles ever created for a ballerina!
Stravinsky’s Firebird. I knew it all too well. Standing all alone in the left wing, I watched as Gustave dashed onto the stage in the role of Prince Ivan. Holding a bow, he was lost in an enchanted forest as he hunted for a princess. Effortlessly, he spun and leaped to great bounds. His dancing was big and bold, unleashed by the freedom of having the stage to himself. My heart pitter-pattered. In a few minutes, it would be my turn to join him and take center stage.
And then my cue! My heart leapt to my throat as if it was doing a sauté. With a steeling breath, I leaped onto the stage performing a series of grand battements while Gustave flew off it. I heard the audience’s thunderous applause, but it was merely an accompaniment to the orchestral music that played in my ears. With each leap, my nervousness dissipated and within moments, I was the mythical bird flying high. The feeling was sublime! Otherworldly.
I continued with pirouettes, my arms fluttering like a bird’s wings. Shimmer! I heard my master call out to me in my head. Then, a few minutes later, Gustave rejoined me on stage, chasing after me. Playing a game of cat and mouse, he finally caught me.
The firm touch of his hands splayed on my hips sent a shiver through me as his warm breath heated me. Not before long, we were doing a sensual pas de deux, Gustave, holding me by my waist, as I did arabesques and back bends, my arms still fluttering and all the while feeling his intense gaze on me. I began to relax, trusting him to make me shine. Then, he lifted me over his head as if I weighed nothing at all, and spun me. Rather than getting dizzy, I was getting high like I was on some kind of drug. And I knew it right then. Ballet was my drug. I needed to dance as much as I needed to breathe.