Page 110 of The Breaking Pointe
Fixing my jacket, I walk along the busy sidewalk, rushing through the cold winds, my hands as deep in my pockets as they can get. I double take at each store to my right, making sure I don’t pass the dance studio—dodging people when I need to until I get to the studio entrance.I usually never have an issue with parking on this side of town, but today isn’t one of those days. It’s not like luck has been that much on my side, though, recently. Life has me working extra hard at pretending things are normal.
I’munsureofwhatnormalis,tobeexact.
I wonder how past generations of men have overcome the stipulations of actually being a man—without losing their wits and retaining normalcy, that is. Many men are out of wits nowadays.I imagine I need to gather the ones I have left and hold onto them tightly before it’s too late.While doing so, I would like to discover what specifically makes
a man lose his wit.A general question that unfortunately holds a heavy weight for me.Losing one’s self is all it takes, I suppose. In order to lose it all, the fall would have to start with something, right?
Pushing the door open, I look around at a vacant studio. No thin, ginger woman in sight.
“Elle, I’m here!” I yell, hoping she hears me from wher- ever location she’s at, receiving no response.
I scale the room once more before walking to the hall to enter the backrooms and head to her office.
“El…” I say, looking in each room as I put my hands back in my pockets, still trying to warm them.
The last room to look into is her office.Slowly, I creepin, giving a gentle knock to the door. Peeking my head in, I finally see her. Her head is in her hands, letting the smallest weeps escape beyond her fingers as she creates a wet puddle on the papers on the desk.
“Noelle, what happened?Look at me.”I am suddenly alert, marching behind her desk to kneel down to her.
Warily, I take my hands to hers, pulling them from her face to show her flushed cheeks and red eyes.
“Hey…” I fondly murmur, kissing each of her hands. “Calm down for me. Tell me what’s going on.”
She tensely grabs hold of my hands, sniffling and catching her breath.
“The letter—it’s the letter,” she stutters.“They’re taking my spot away…” she whimpers, squeezing her eyes closed to stop more tears.
Letting go of one hand, my brows furrow before grabbing the dampened paper and taking a quick scan of the few paragraphs.
Suddenly,everythingmakessense.
Her tears are for a good reason. This isn’t something she or I can argue out of, either.
“The second page details every payment I’ve been late on, and why I can’t buy the building.Like I could do that, anyway.”She rolls her eyes, shaking her head with a few sniffles.
I could.But in my opinion, she would thrive in a place much better than this. Bigger, and more functional.
“Let me. I’ll pay it,” I offer. “It’s too late,” she sniffles.
I sigh quietly, standing up all the way and pulling her up with me to bring her closer. Wrapping each arm around her, I armor her body with mine, slowly swaying us while she cries underneath my chin, buried into my chest.
“You once told me to let it all work out. Right?” My hand grazes her back, rubbing it.“So now, I’m gonna tell you the same thing,” I whisper, resting my cheek on her head, closing my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
I might not understand the fear in her heart completely, but I know I’ve never seen her this crushed. I’ve gotten too used to seeing her being spunky and full of life.Everyone has their moments where they have to crash and burn—but she is someone who puts her all into every dance move she executes. Her fall is a lot harder than others’.
Why do all the people with big hearts and big dreams have to face the most treacherous tribulations, just to get a piece of something good?
It angers me.
I need to see her smiling, and getting the best out of what NewYorkhastooffer.Notformysake,butforallofher
future plans’ sake.I see it in her eyes, the desire and the want to have something so damn bad, you’ll quite literally do anything.That’s what pro boxing has been to me.If I can make her dreams come true, I’ll do it. I’ve waited a long time to put my money to good use.I think a dance studio makes a lot of sense.Making Elle the happiest woman on Earth makes sense.Being able to have her on my arm as mine makes sense—and having feelings for her is starting to make more sense than it ever has before.
* * *
Research on buildings is a much more extensive task than I presumed it to be. I’m stuck finding something that feels good enough.
SomethingthatfeelsgoodenoughforNoelle.
