Page 1 of Blossom in Shadows

CHAPTER 1

ZINNIA

The young girls in my dance class with their hair in buns while wearing pink leotards, tights and ballet shoes always make me nostalgic. It’s both a blessing and a curse teaching these young ladies to love ballet the same way I do. They have so much hope on their faces, and they work so hard.

I used to be them. I used to think my future was tied to dance which spoke to my soul. I hope they don’t learn how it can all be taken away in a single moment, like I have.

“Okay,” I clap my hands, “let’s have the last group. Show me from the top.”

Some girls move from the center of the room to make space for the next group, and I click the button on the music to play it from the beginning again. I get lost in watching them, wishing I could be with them, but I know there is only pain for me in some of their movements.

I can teach them, but I can’t join them.

It’s torture. It is my penance and the only way I can give life to the dance I love with my entire heart.

“Sarah, watch your turn,” my voice holds authority which all the girls respond to. Sarah’s smile doesn’t fall, but I notice on the next turn, she holds the line of her body with more strength. “Good.”

When they’re done, I clap and give them a bright smile. Do any of them notice how it doesn’t quite reach my eyes because it doesn’t come from my soul? They did well, but I can feel bitterness in me because I’m disconnected from the movement I love so much.

I stop the music and motion for everyone to join me in the center. We walk through some cool down stretches because it’s not just about the performance. It’s something I try and instill in all my students. They can’t walk onto the stage without preparing their bodies and they can’t walk away without making sure they give their bodies what they need.

It’s dangerous if they don’t heed my warnings. I should know.

I pushed my body for far too long, driving it to do more in the attempt to achieve my dreams. At what cost? I’m here teaching now, which I love, but I’ll never step back on a stage again in my pointe shoes.

I can’t.

It would only bring me pain and getting through the day is hard enough. Already my knee is burning and throbbing because of the classes I’ve taught today and I’m thankful this is my last one. Normally I would go home and soak before icing my knee, but not today.

Maybe I haven’t learned my lesson because I’m going to push my body a little more which is why I do most of the stretches along with the girls in my class. I need to make sure my muscles won’t protest too much at the audition I have tonight.

It won’t be the stage I was hoping to dance on, not even close, but it’s still a dance job. There isn’t anything else in this world I’m good at and without dance I don’t know who I am. It’s been my entire life for as long as I can remember.

I’m not going to turn my nose up at a chance to dance, even if it’s in a cage. Even if I’ll be in skimpy clothing. The impact on my knee shouldn’t be too much and it’ll help me pay my bills.

Teaching ballet doesn’t exactly have me rolling in money and the little bit I was able to put away from the performances I was cast in, before my injury, is dwindling. If I don’t get in front of it now, it won’t be long before I’m in trouble.

I’ve had enough trouble.

“Great class, ladies,” I keep my voice bright. “Remember to go through the routine a few times before the next class. It’s a process to get your body to move without thought. The more you do it, the more natural it will be.”

The girls start to chatter as they collect their things. They have so much promise and I can only hope life doesn’t pull the rug out from underneath them at some point. Most of them will never do more than these classes when it comes to dance, but it puts them in touch with their bodies and that has value.

Those who rise to the top and choose to make dance their lives have a chance, but the odds aren’t in their favor. There are only so many companies across the country and who knows what life will put in their paths between now and then.

When everyone is gone, I slip into the backroom to change into some leggings and a cropped sweatshirt. As I’m slipping my tights off, I put too much weight on my right leg and have to bite my lip to stop myself from screaming at the jolt of pain which shoots from my knee and engulfs my entire body.

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath and try to keep the tears at bay.

It feels like every time I’ve almost forgotten about my deferred dreams, my body reminds me in vivid, excruciating detail. I sit on the chair and squeeze my eyes shut while trying to breathe through the pain. It only mildly helps.

The pain never goes away. It simply becomes a dull ache I can live with. I don’t have a choice; I can’t wallow for the rest of my life.

It’s not like I don’t have anything going for me. I just won’t have the one thing I’ve dreamed about, the one thing I worked on for almost my entire life. It’s fine. I’m not the only one whose dreams have swan dived from the top of a cliff to be dashed among the rocks below.

My phone ringing snaps me out of the thoughts which always try and pull me under whenever my body reminds me of everything I won’t have from now on. The thoughts which prevent me from finding peace in where I am now. I fumble a little as I pull my bag closer, my hands still shaking as the remnants of the pain slithers through my body.

I look at the ID when I pull my phone out and force a smile on my face when I answer, “Briar. How are you doing bestie?”

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