Page 40 of Because of Her

As they make their way through the final corridor, I shake the daydream away, because I don’t fit, and it wouldn’t be fair to either of them if I tried to squeeze myself into the frame.

My fingers find my ring, spinning it furiously. Pressing the spikes against my thumb, I focus on the mild pain it causes to distract me from the icy pressure building in my chest.

I lean against the wall, enveloped in shadows.

“Cassidy?”

I feel a gentle tug on the bottom of my sweater and look down to see Maisie smiling up at me.

“Are you okay?” she whispers.

Her gentle voice is calming in a way I never expected from a child. The pressure inside me eases, a sliver of warmth spreading from the centre to melt the ice away.

I smile down at Maisie as I push off the wall. She reaches to grab my hand, and we walk together.

Callum stands at the end of the corridor, just before the bend. One shoulder rests on the wall beside him, his arms hang loose by his sides with his thumbs in the pockets of his dark jeans.

I can’t make out his face in the lighting, but I can sense the way his face lights up as Maisie drags me along beside her.

“Wait until you see it.” Maisie bounces down the hallway, tugging me behind her.

As we turn the corner, soft, classical music plays and a rush of calm energy brushes over me. It’s not cold, but goosebumps erupt under my sweater, the anxiety and grief and longing making way for a subtle excitement.

The exhibit itself is a wide, dimly lit room. Bench seats are scattered throughout, with a petite café in the corner offering extra seating. The walls and floor are projected with bright impressionist style paintings with swirling lights. I can hear the classical music building to a crescendo that awakens the young ballerina inside me.

We pause, midway into the room, taking in the sight. It’s like no art exhibit I’ve ever been to. The giant room is immersive in a way that feels like it should be overwhelming, but it’s not. The calm that rushed over me as I turned the corner sticks, and I feel at peace for the first time in weeks.

The music softens, fading to a few notes that sound vaguely familiar. Paintings of ballerinas appear on the walls, and the swirling lights on the floor fade. Scattered through the projections come videos of ballet dancers performing.

Dance of the Four Swans plays through the speakers, and like they always do when confronted with classical music, my feet turn out. I keep the movements small, but allow myself to enjoy the music and reminisce on my days as a dancer. I can’t help but move with the music, my arms and legs gliding around me until I finish with a low and very off balance pirouette. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Maisie. Eyes wide and mouth open, her face is full of awe.

I reach out a hand. It’s a gentle invitation, and she takes it, grabbing my hand and kissing the back of it. She stumbles as she curtsies, but I steady her.

“Are you a real ballerina?”

“Not anymore.”

Maisie’s face twists in confusion before I deflect away from the painful truth. That I stopped when I movedinterstate, that I should have found a class in my new area so I could continue. That by the time I came back to Melbourne, I felt too broken to start again.

“I can show you some moves, if you like.”

I can see Callum in my peripheral, the lights reflect in his eyes, making them twinkle. His smile widens when Maisie jumps in agreement. He steps towards us, his arms still crossed.

“Yes please, yes please,” Maisie squeals.

“Wait,” Callum interrupts.

My heart sinks, and I wonder, not for the first time today, if I’ve done something wrong. I hadn’t thought it would be an issue to show the girl a few pointed toes and arm positions, but now I’m second guessing my viewpoint.

“Sor—” I start to apologise but Callum shakes his head at me.

Bending down towards Maisie, he reaches out a hand.

“Let me take Pavlova.”

“Pavlova?” My brow furrows and my lips turn up, determined to work out the doll’s name without asking.

“Anna Pavlova,” Maisie’s little voice pipes up. “But one of my friends at kinder is Anna so we have to call her Pavlova.”

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