Page 16 of Tension
As I gather my things, Yvonne nudges me. “Paris,” she rasps, her eyes shining. “Can you imagine?”
“I’m trying not to,” I admit with a grin. “It’s a long way off.”
“Not really,” she hums, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Time flies when you’re having fun, and I am having so much fun with you, Mateo.” She’s definitely flirting, and it only serves to lock up my throat, making speaking impossible. I nod and give her a small smile.
She follows Kari and Adam out of the building, leaving me relieved when she doesn’t invite me out again. I would love to live that free, to step into a bar without the urge to buy an entire bottle of vodka and use it to chase down a handful of pills.
I linger in the room, taking my time to wipe the sweat from my forehead and neck while telling myself it’s preventing a flu as I walk home, but truly, it’s the enigma of a woman who has captured my curiosity.
Vaeda stands at the mirrors as she moves into her dance frame and begins to glide along the floor. She’s grace personified, and it’s hard to blink in case I miss something. Even Greyson steps out of his office to watch her, a smirk lifting his mouth as his gaze meets mine.
He comes to stand beside me as I haul on my hoodie and beanie. “She’s too hard on herself, and it’ll only get worse as this competition comes closer. She craves perfection, and since her injury, she can’t see it in her reflection any longer. If she’s hard on you, it’s because she sees the potential for perfection.” We watch her spin, her shoulders maintaining the posture as her neck elongates like an elegant swan. “I want to see your redemption, Mateo. I’m hoping you’ll be joining us in Paris.”
His words stick with me as I leave the studio. The evening air is cool against my skin, the setting sun launching long shadows on the pavement. Paris. The possibility feels both exhilarating and distant, like a dream just out of reach, but as I make my way home, a quiet determination settles over me.
Four weeks. That’s all the time I have to prove I belong on that stage, and I won’t waste it.
Hours later, I’m sprawled on my couch, my muscles aching from the evening’s class. The TV is on, but I’m barely paying attention to the muted images flickering across the screen. My mind keeps circling back to Greyson’s announcement, the weight of his expectations, and the allure of Paris.
The sound of my phone ringing cuts through my thoughts, and I glance at the screen to see my mother’s name. With a sigh, I sit up and answer.
“Hi, Mami,” I say, trying to sound cheerful despite my exhaustion.
“Mateo, mi amor.” Her warm voice fills the line. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I reply, leaning back against the couch. “Just tired from school.”
“Are you keeping up with your classes?” she asks, her tone gentle but probing. “How are you finding economics?”
“It’s… fine,” I remark, hesitating. “I mean, it’s a little boring, to be honest.”
“Boring?” she repeats, concern creeping into her voice. “Mateo, you know how important this is for your future. Your father and I…” she trails off, but I know where she’s going.
“I know,” I interrupt gently. “I’m doing the work, Mami, but it’s not something I’m passionate about. You know that.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. When she speaks again, her voice is softer. “What would make you happy, Mateo?”
I pause, the words catching in my throat. Finally, I admit, “I’ve been thinking about… finding a dance class.”
“A dance class?” she echoes, surprised. “Mateo, your father…”
“I–I know,” I stammer quickly. “But I’ve been staying out of trouble. I’ve been doing everything you and Dad asked. I just… I need something to look forward to, something that makes me feel alive again.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, and I can picture her biting her lip, weighing my words.
“You don’t know what we went through when you had your overdose. You will never understand what that did to me and to your father. Even your sister was devastated. We never want that to happen again.” Just the mention of my sister, Grace, has my throat sealing with emotion.
I miss her, and even though she’s still harboring some anger toward me, she’s still one of my most favorite people in the world.
“How is Grace?” I inquire, hoping for some new information.
“She’s enjoying school in Paris. I’m proud of her. Her instructors say she has the makings of a bright future as a prima ballerina.” Pride rushes from her mouth and saturates her words as they stab into my chest.
I’m proud of my sister too, and I also have selfish reasons for wanting to go to Paris. Grace is there, which means I could convince her to talk to me again if I have the chance to see her face-to-face.
“I wish I could turn back time, Mami,” I whisper as pain inches its way upward from my chest. “I just need a second chance.”
“I’ll think it over,” she relents, her voice filled with hesitation. “But, Mateo, you have to promise me you’ll stay focused. No distractions, no slipping back.”
