Page 5 of Retribution

“How about we go for a walk, mom?” Gracie says, steering mom away from the temptation.

Lola’s head drops to her hands and I immediately rush to her side.

“We’ve got this all under control, don’t worry. This is your day,” I whisper into Lola’s ear as I caress her forearm.

She gives me an apologetic smile and wipes a tear that had managed to escape. I knew it was a mistake inviting our mom to such a monumental event. As per Lola’s request, she’s here in all of her glory, addictions and all.

I haven’t remained in contact with Celia (Mom) since I moved out, we never really had a great relationship.

She disapproved of my love for ballet, didn’t understand the importance of it being more than a hobby.

The day I told her I wanted to pursue ballet as a full-time career, she laughed and asked me if I would also be moving to England to marry a prince.

You see, my mother and father have both been strict surrounding education whilst we grew up. It wasn’t that I wasn’t academically gifted, I achieved a 4.0 GPA. But, when I informed them of my decision to apply to the School of American Ballet as opposed to Harvard, they pulled my funding.

It wasn’t something I’d comprehended before making my decision.

I never expected them to welcome the idea with open arms, but I thought they would come around to it.

They never did.

Daddy passed away three years ago, leaving mother half of his estate, and splitting the rest among Lola and Gracie. I suppose I didn’t apprehend being cut out of the will either.

Lola discusses with the designer, Evelina, what her plans are for her dream wedding gown. She takes notes and begins drawing on a digital sketchpad, Gracie and mom still absent. Erica takes full advantage of the mini vegan cupcakes and snaps pictures for the wedding memory book. Erica is Lola’s best friend, and luckily a brilliant photographer.

I look up to the sound of Lola clapping and cheering. I gasp when she says, “That’s the one, it’s perfect!” she squeals, jumping up and down.

I head over to Lola and smother her in a giant hug, looking at the sketchpad with her perfect design on it.

Evelina disappears as another assistant escorts Lola back to the changing rooms to change her out of the other wedding dress she was wearing. I sit on the plush cream couch, admiring the luxurious decor as Gracie walks back in, mom stumbling in tow.

“She’s going to have to catch a ride with us, we have room.” Gracie states with a lack of enthusiasm.

We all know that the longer that me and mom are in the same proximity, the meaner she gets. I’ve been lucky to escape today with only a few sarcastic questions about my life choices. The last thing any of us need is a fight between us, today is about Lola.

I roll my eyes and start to gather up the wedding planner papers and pop them all back into the folder. This girl wasn’t kidding when she said she’s had everything planned out since she was thirteen-years-old.

Sometimes, I can become a little envious of my sisters, knowing that they are able to plan these fantasies and live out their dreams, where I can’t. Wanting to follow my dream, meant sacrificing the rest of my dreams.

I’m sure most people wonder why I didn’t just cave, drop the idea of having a career in ballet and have it simply, as a hobby. But it could never work that way, ballet is like another language to me. No, it is like my first language.

I was first introduced to ballet at the age of four. Mom wanted to have each of us grow up to be placid and well-composed, it was also a status boost. All the wealthy families in Buckhead had their children attending every extra-curricular activity to add to our resumes.

They knew that when the time was right, their children would be competing for a place in an Ivy League. Nothing and no one would get in the way of their future heirs and heiresses from securing a place in Harvard or Yale.

Most other kids weren’t like me, though. I lost sight of Harvard early as I began to excel in ballet. I mean I’m good, insanely good. Which was exactly how I managed to secure my scholarship for the School of American Ballet.

I competed for years after finishing school, partaking in numerous shows of Swan Lake, The Nutcracker and Romeo and Juliet. I won awards and became fully established with an online presence big enough for me to step away from the spotlight and open my school.

Lola finishes signing all the paperwork as mom steps forward, swiping her credit card to pay for the expenses. Ignoring the envious and bitter energy she draws from me, I focus my attention elsewhere.

* * *

After taking my sisters home, I head straight to the dance studio, grabbing the mail on my way inside. Turning on the lights in the studio, I enter my office, throwing my bags onto the couch and tearing into the mail. Bills, bills and more bills.

I huff and lay down on the sofa, kicking my bags onto the floor. Closing my eyes for a moment, I think of the huge show next weekend, the qualifying gig for the Atlanta Youth Ballet competition. The youngest of my class of sixteen ballerinas, is only five years old. I’m hoping to expand the business at some point, to teach different age ranges and give me more spare time.

“Indie?” A female voice calls. I jump up from the sofa and pop my head out of the office.

---