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“Nora, whatever it is, block it out,” Derik whispers as he pulls me into the spin I almost ruined.
I’m never like this, so I don’t know what to do to fix it. I don’t normally get jitters. I’ve done this so long that when I’m on stage, I block out all the noise, lights, and commotion. I just dance.
I subtly shake my shoulders and wring out my hands, willing the uneasy feeling to go away. I need to get my mind right for the lift coming up. It’s the showstopper, and if I’m the least bit distracted, it could go terribly wrong.
I make eye contact with Derik and blow out that sticky feeling taking residence in my stomach as I approach him on stage. I hold his eyes, not daring to break the contact in fear that if I do, my distracted mind will cause me to stumble. His subtle nod loosens some of the tightness in my chest.
Three feet away, then two, then one, and I propel myself toward him with my arms raised and my feet light. Only then do I close my eyes and let my body go into a position it’s been in a million times before.
Derik’s hands wrap around my waist and lift me effortlessly in the air. My toes point, and my hands reach. The audience gasps, and the music pounds in my ears as I finally open my eyes. A smile overtakes my face when I realize I did the lift flawlessly.
But the relief I feel is short-lived.
As soon as my feet hit the ground, one foot automatically goes into en pointe like it was supposed to. The other? Absolutely not. It slams into the floor and throws me off balance. I stumble and struggle to catch myself.
My ankle twists in an unnatural way. A pain shoots up my calf as I quickly fix my footing. It takes everything in me to hold my right foot in the en pointe position. I’m unable to hide my grimace, which tells Derik know something is wrong.
I don’t think I broke it, but it sure as hell feels like I did. White, hot, sharp pain starts just below my ankle and travels up my leg as I work through the last movements of the program.
I’ll be damned if I don’t finish.
I have one final spin, and I dread the hell out of it. It’s usually my favorite because the hard parts are done. At this point in the performance, I can normally breathe and relax. Not tonight, though.
My eyes automatically search out for SJ, who stands just to the side of the stage. He’s out of view of the audience but has a clear view of them and me.
I lock eyes with him and find concern etched into his normally calm features. He takes a step toward me, ready to intervene it seems. I gently shake my head, communicating I’m okay.
With my eyes on SJ, the throbbing in my ankle intensifying, and my nerves frayed, I lift onto my toes and ready myself to spin. If this was any other night, I’d spin on my right leg, but as I go into en pointe, I quickly realize that isn’t an option.
Not doing the spin isn’t an option, either. With no other choice, I make a split-second decision I hope will pan out. If it doesn’t, I’m screwed in more ways than one.
Derik moves beside me, grabbing me around the waist and breaking my eye contact with SJ. I spin and place myself on his other side. “I need to lead with my left. Can you do it?”
Giving Derik all the credit he deserves, he doesn’t react to my statement. He simply rearranges himself without the audience noticing. Almost like we’ve done this a thousand times before.
“I’ve got you.” His declaration does little to settle my racing heart as we set up to perform a spin we’ve done countless times before, but never quite like this.
I find SJ again, and hold on to his deep, soulful eyes as Derik propels me forward.
“Nora! What the hell happened?” SJ rushes out and leans down beside me.
As soon as I cross the line onto the side stage, my adrenaline crashes, and I make it to the first chair I see.
“I’ll get the medic. Don’t move!” Derik says as he rushes off into the wings of backstage.
“Wait! I can meet them in…” Before I can finish my sentence, Derik has already turned the corner and is no longer within earshot.
“Urgh…”
I don’t want a big fuss made. I’d rather be checked out in my dressing room than out here, where everyone can see me. I reach down to lightly probe my throbbing ankle, but before I can even touch it, SJ knocks my hand away.
“Let me.”
He gently lifts my foot and places it on his meaty thigh. He kneels in front of me, his head bowed down so he can see my injury better. His giant but gentle fingers press and rub around my ankle bones and up my calf.
I moan when he reaches a sore spot on my calf muscle. It’s one of those, it hurts so bad it feels good things, as he presses into the tight muscle. His eyes scan mine for any signs of discomfort as he continues to explore.
“I don’t think you broke it,” he finally says. Goosebumps raise along my skin, partly from the pain but mostly from his firm and comforting touch.
