Coming down from a sauté, I landed on my feet and pirouetted around. It was my father, wearing his pajamas and a robe.
“Pop!” My voice registered shock and surprise. As much as I loved him, he was the last person I wanted to see right now. Though he didn’t know the extent of the damage, he knew that ballet had been a destructive force in my life. He didn’t make it a secret that he never wanted me to return to that world.
“What are you doing down here?” I asked, my heartbeat slowing down.
“I heard some music playing. I thought maybe I’d left the TV on. What are you doing down here?”
“Dancing. I couldn’t sleep.” I kept things as simple as possible, not wanting to create a conversation that would stress him out or raise eyebrows.
To my relief, my father didn’t question me further. “It’s late, pumpkin. You should go back to bed.”
I twitched a small smile to placate him. “Okay, Pop. I’ll be right up.”
He nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Night, Pop.”
And with that, he lumbered out of the studio. The music still playing, I could hear him thudding up the stairs. He still wasn’t in good shape and that worried me.
A few minutes later, I was back in my room. Untying them, I slipped off my pointe shoes and next peeled off my damp tights and leotard. I put them all back neatly in my ballet bag and then put on my PJs. Hopping into bed, I removed the tape from my toes and massaged my aching feet. My eyes jumped from a photo of six-year-old me performing in a lilac tutu to the cover of Ryan’s book.
Undying Love… Was ballet my undying love? Dancing had awoken me. I felt more alive than I had in months. Enervated. Yet, at the same time, I felt more conflicted. My chest constricted as a torrent of emotions whooshed around inside me. My eyes stayed on Ryan Madewell’s beautiful face. My heart was torn. I wasn’t sure if I belonged to him, but I knew I belonged to dance. Was I ready to return? Should I? Would Gustave take me back? And if he did, would that be the best decision of my life or the biggest mistake?
Overcome with anxiety, I clutched my little plush monkey, Baboo, and gazed at the ceiling. Thank goodness, I was seeing Dr. Goodman on Monday. Maybe he could help me figure things out. With so many unanswered questions bombarding my mind, it was a miracle sleep claimed me. I was dancing in my dreams.