Page 3 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys
“Oh, shut up.” I laughed, then turned away to continue my journey to the changing room.
Crystal sang at my back. “She’s so lucky! She’s a star!”
“I may cry and have a lonely heart, but random sex with paying customers isn’t what’s missing in my life!” I tossed over my shoulder in response.
The minute I pulled open the solid door and ducked into the dressing area, the sounds of Club. Midnight faded into the background. It was too quiet here. It let the hollow aching in my chest that appeared and disappeared whenever it wanted to rear its ugly head.
Because my lifewasmissing something.
Love. Family. Friendship.
My mind drifted back to my grandmother. I could see her soft, wrinkled hands wrapped around a chipped teacup. If I glanced just behind her, I’d spot several of her sit-around birds. All shapes, sizes, colors. Her watery eyes always looked too large behind her massive, thick glasses. The image of her flitted out of focus, and when my brain sharpened again, my grandpa took her place. Frazzled, Einstein hair. A large, curved nose. Ruddy cheeks that always seemed sunburnt even in winter.
God, I missed them.
Grandmother hadn’t remembered me last time I’d visited. There wasn’t the slightest glimmer of recognition in her gaze. Grandpa Rich had been so gentle and loving with her, right until his end. Even when she’d gotten unconsolably angry, demanding to know where her husband was, he’d always soothed her. Though, there would be tears in his eyes. Grandmother was alone now. She didn’t have him anymore. It felt like betrayal, but sometimes I wondered if Grandpa passing quickly wasn’t for the best. Even the most loyal lover can only take so much heartbreak. And when I’d spoken with a memory care nurse atSerenity House last week, she’d said Grandmother rarely had clear moments now.
I needed to go back to Tacoma and see her. I’d not been in over a month.
That city, though, was hard to face. Once I left it, part of me never wanted to return.
It broke my heart thoroughly.
I was still gluing fractured pieces of myself back into place.
1
NELLY
A year ago... The Imperial Dance Company
Tacoma, Washington
God, has it always been this loud?
My shoes echoed off the glossy floors. The click, click, click bounced off the high, curved ceiling. I resented the architectural acoustics now, though I’d once loved them, and this building.
Now, every corner of it. Every highlight. Every shadow. Held a memory.
Those memories were hateful creatures. No longer brilliant, shining, intoxicating.
I straightened my shoulders and kept walking. No matter how careful I was, every footfall ricocheted off the marble and landed, ringing, in my chest. Imperial Ballet once made me feel like I could fly. Here I was with leaden legs and an iron heart, not gliding nor light as a feather. I was no longer something the company wanted. I didn’t fit their image, the narrative they sought to advertise. Perfection, once imperfect, can never be flawless again.
A broken doll. A useless toy. A pariah past her prime.
Not even twenty-five yet, and already a has-been.
I clutched the termination letter within its Imperial Ballet marked envelope in my fist, crumpling its crisp edges. I hadn’t opened it yet. Hadn’t bothered reading what would certainly be a canned goodbye rife with legal jargon to cover their asses. I already knew what had happened to me, already knew what I was worth to them. I couldn’t take seeing it written in black and white yet.
My fingers tightened around the paper. So easy to tear. So easy to ruin.
Just like my body.
My career.
Everything I’d ever worked to become.
Tighter.
