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“What’s wrong, Lovebug? Is everything okay?”
No. It’s not. I’ve hurt her so much over the years, not communicating the frustration, fear, and jealousy I’d felt, and now we are like two strangers playing house. I walk into the kitchen and stand in front of her, dropping my backpack to the floor, just like I did that day in the studio when Via walked in and stole my thunder.
This time, Melody is not looking for anyone else.
She sees me.
“Our parents mold us into shapes,” I start, trailing the granite counter with my fingers. “You, Melody, lost interest in me halfway through and moved on to another project. To a piece of art with the potential to be flawless. Her name was Via, and even though I’ve always been jealous of people for various things, my jealousy toward Sylvia Scully consumed me. Want to know why, Mel? You looked at her like I wished you’d look at me. Like she was already a fully formed, perfect piece of work while I was barely even a canvas stretched on a wooden frame. I didn’t see the whole picture. I didn’t know where her fancy clothes came from. I didn’t know why you let her get away with it on the days she didn’t have proper clothing on while you berated all of us for less. I didn’t know why you bought her favorite energy bars for her, or why you took her for a week in London, or why it was so important to you that she be there for every class.”
Tears appear in her eyes, and they are like a mirror to what’s going on inside her head. I see now, with a clarity I’ve never had before, the Melody Followhill that I wished to meet my entire childhood. The one who is not only an accomplished ballerina, an amazing teacher, and the talk of the town, but a simple girl—maybe even like me—struggling to do the right thing by her family.
“When Via disappeared and I knew it was my fault, I didn’t even think I deserved your love anymore. You gave it, anyway, though sparsely. We grew apart, farther and farther, maybe a couple of inches each year, until the first semester of senior year. I felt like you were doing things to purposely hurt me. To taunt me about how bad I was.”
Melody shakes her head, pressing her fingertips to her mouth. “Never. I was frustrated and hurt and didn’t know how to reach out to you. I kept waiting for you to snap out of it. One minute, I was trying to talk to you being all submissive and fearful of my own daughter, and the next, I’d get angry and frustrated with you, losing my cool. At some point, when I recognized I became so bad at it, I simply let you be. And when that happened, I watched your relationship with your father, and as much as I love my husband with my entire heart, I finally realized what it felt like to be you. Because not only was I jealous, Lovebug, I was absolutely livid.
“I never loved Via more than you. You were always my strongest, most natural love. But Sylvia needed help. She was poor, and abused, and neglected, and there was nothing I could do because I knew if I stepped in, things could get a lot worse for her. All I could do was help her by buying her gear, providing her with meals and support, and trying to enroll her in the Royal Ballet Academy. I cut her slack not because I was enchanted with her antics—but because someone needed to. I took Penn and Via in without consulting you girls, and that was my biggest mistake yet. I was so focused on trying to atone for letting Via down when she disappeared, I hardly noticed I was stomping all over my own daughter. I’m so sorry you walked around feeling unworthy because of me. It’s always been so hard for me to express my feelings, and I think this is something you inherited from me. I taught you how to act tough, assuming that you are. You became so good at the game, I bought it.”
I laugh through my own tears, shaking my head and wiping them. “You really wanted me to stop trying to be a ballerina.” I sigh.
“Only because I didn’t want you to feel the same pressure I had when I was a pre-teen. You were always a natural.”
“Liar.” I snort, rolling my eyes, which only prompts more tears to fall.
She shakes her head and laughs, the sound bursting from her chest in relief. “Oh, Marx, are you kidding me? You were always so amazing. I watched as you became more and more insecure as time passed, and I had no idea it was about me or Via. I thought you were just tired and bored.”
