Page 24 of Entirely Yours
We fall into comfortable silence, painting side by side. The green looks nice as the afternoon sun slants through the windows. “What’s your last name?” she finally asks.
“That’s what you’ve been contemplating?” I joke.
“Just answer the question, AB.”
I roll my eyes at the ridiculous nickname. “Bardot. Hence the new coffee shop name.”
A blush creeps up her neck. “I knew that. What a waste of a question.”
“We won’t count it.”
She hums and continues to paint.
“What’s your favorite snack?” Paint glides onto the walls as I wait for her answer.
“You already know the answer to that.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “I’m a slut for some peanut butter crackers.”
My mouth dries up. “What else are you a slut for, Thea Rose?” I look over and see her smirking. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
She sets her paintbrush down, hips swaying as she moves closer to me. Popping up on her tiptoes, she gets so close to my ear I can feel her breathing. Goosebumps break out across my skin. I feel her smile as she says, “Pass.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, working hard to calm my racing heart. I hear the melody of Thea’s giggle as she walks back to where she was painting.
But then she slips abruptly from confident woman into hesitant and insecure. “I’ll tell you about Chloe’s dad,” she finally says, a slight shake in her voice.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know… I—It’s hard, you know?” She stops painting and lays herself out on the floor.
Without saying anything, I find a spot on the floor next to her. I want Thea to feel safe sharing with me, however much she is willing to share. I don’t want to pry or push, but I do want to offer her comfort in the only way I know how—sitting in the hard stuff together.
“Did you know I was a ballerina?” she asks.
Vaguely, I gesture around the room. “I sort of figured.”
“No,” she whispers. “A real ballerina. Obnoxiously large tutu, terrible looking feet, a season of performances in beautiful Boston theaters.” A pause. “Dad and I moved up here when I was seventeen. I was recruited by Ballet Boston to join the school in hopes of eventually joining the company. It was… magical. Everything I had ever dreamed of. And living in a big city on top of all of that? I was in heaven.”
She’s quiet, and I let her process, deciding what she’s comfortable confiding.
“Chloe’s dad taught one of my classes. He… Well, he was larger than life.” She pauses. “There’s not a lot of straight male dancers in Texas, so this was really the first time I had come across a man in dance class that I could flirt with that… I don’t know—he was ten years older. I basked under his attention. It remained pretty innocent until I turned eighteen. It’s like he had a fucking radar or something.
“Without getting into too much detail, I joined the company a year after I moved to Boston. I danced a pas de deux with Guy—that’s his name, it’s so pretentious. Anyway, I danced this pas de deux with him for a donor show. We had a lot of alone time rehearsing, and one thing led to another… Dimples get me every time.” She turns her head toward me, a weak smile gracing her lips.
Thea sighs heavily. I hate how sad she looks. “You don’t have to tell me,” I reassure. Even though I really want her to tell me.
Her eyes drift back to the ceiling. “It’s okay. I found out I was pregnant shortly after. Guy immediately turned into someone I didn’t recognize. He was…mean. He denied the baby was his.Pushed me to end the pregnancy. Convinced me this would ruin both of us. I have nothing against women having a choice, but—and this is the worst part—I was actually kind of excited when I found out. I knew it would change things, but I had delusions of having the baby, continuing to dance, marrying Guy, and maybe even starting our own company or studio. I was nineteen when Chloe was born. Dad was there. I held out hope that Guy would change his mind once he met Chloe, but…”
I roll on my side to face Thea, maintaining a distance but letting her know that I’m still here. I’m not leaving. A single tear falls out of the corner of her closed eye and drops to the ground. On instinct, my hand finds hers, our fingers twining gently together.
“What an asshole.” It’s not an eloquent response, but damn, it’s true.
A laugh bursts from Thea. And then she keeps laughing. And then we are both laughing so hard, different kinds of tears falling from our eyes. She rolls toward me, our legs mimicking the movement of our hands. A huge grin paints Thea’s face, and I feel like I can release a pent-up breath.
Another round of laughter and then, “He—” she wheezes, “—really is.”
Her face gets really serious then. Her eyes track mine, back and forth, back and forth. “No pity, though. Please, don’t pity us,” she whispers.
I untangle our hands, bringing my finger up so I can gently wipe the tears from under her eyes. “Thea…” I breathe. “I don’t pity you. I fuckingadmireyou. Every new thing I learn about you solidifies that, got it?”
