Page 43 of Drawn Together

“Because you’re paranoid.”

I picked up the tray and sat up to eat. It was a butternut squash soup with carrot and leek, and it was delicious, though knowing Sebastian had made it just for me pissed me off. He had been very caring, it was true, but that didn’t erase the words he’d said to me after we’d kissed.

Liam and I watched the rest of the movie while I finished my meal. The last thing I remembered was Liam going to the kitchen and making himself a sandwich. I fell asleep well before the movie ended, curled up under my comforter. I don’t even know if it was Liam who put the cold compresses on my forehead or not.

I spent two more days in bed, and I gradually began to feel better. Tami came to take care of me the day after Liam. I didn’t tell her what had happened with Sebastian. We talked instead about spring break and the possibility of her coming to visit me in Baton Rouge.

“I’d love to. I’ll have to see if my parents will mind. Is Liam going?” she asked.

“I doubt it. I invited him, but he has other plans.”

If she was disappointed by my response, I didn’t notice. We changed the subject, and I asked her how the ballet classes were going.

“The girls are fine; they all miss you. The little one named Lili won’t stop asking about you. They weren’t at all happy when I told them you’d be gone for a month or so, but the lessons are going well, I guess.”

“Are you being careful? I’d feel responsible if anything happened to you…”

Tami shrugged. “I go straight to the subway as soon as class ends. It’s staying light until later now, so it’s not dark when I leave. I do like giving the classes, though. I understand now why you risk going out there by yourself. The girls are amazing.”

I smiled, missing my students and wishing I could go back to giving classes again myself.

After Tami left, I felt the need to move my body, do something, so I put on my dance clothes and left my bedroom for the first time in four long days. As I made my way toward the kitchen for some water, my sister called and we talked for the fifteen minutes her school allowed. I missed her, and I was counting the days until I got to see her again.

“What are you planning to do?” Sebastian called, standing in his doorway, looking me up and down as I walked past his room.

I stopped in front of him. “Isn’t it obvious?” I answered.

The last thing I wanted was another argument with Sebastian.

“You’re not healed yet, Marfil, and you’re taking antibiotics. You shouldn’t be exerting yourself.”

“Physical activity is healthy,” I said.

He blocked my path by stretching an arm out in front of me. “Wait a few days—you should be in bed.”

“Listen, Sebastian, I understand that you’re super concerned with losing your job, but you’re going a bit overboard. You’re getting paid to keep someone from killing me, not to protect me from myself. I’m going to dance, so leave me alone.” I slipped through the space under his arm and moved down the hallway. When I entered my studio, I closed the door behind me and sighed, grateful to be alone in my sacred space. I hitPlayand stood in front of the barre.

I started with some simple pliés and then stretched on the barre, my torso perpendicular to my leg. All my joints cracked, reminding me how out of practice I was.

The tattoo hurt, and I was afraid that I might’ve removed the scab. I tried to check it in the mirror, but I could hardly see anything, so I kept stretching until I started dancing. I needed this, needed to do the thing that had inspired me to get the tattoo in the first place.

As I came out of another pirouette, I began to feel dizzy, but I kept going even though I knew I should stop. When I moved into the sixth position, the floor spun at a strange angle, and I fell, my side slamming into the hardwood floor.

Shit.

A second later, Sebastian opened the door.

“I told you not to dance.”

He walked over to me, picked me up off the floor before I had the chance to stop him, and carried me out of the room.

“I’m fine, dammit.”

After he lay me on the couch, I realized he was angry.

“Go back to bed, please.”

“Mind your own business, please.”