Page 37 of Healing Eleanor

She keeps her eyes locked on the road. “Exactly what I said. They probably liked your variation so much they didn’t need to see anything else.” She takes a sip from her steaming cup. “From what I remember at your recitals, the lead often got chosen by performing just one perfect dance. Maybe you did that.”

She presses the brake, and I jolt forward in my seat. Of course it’s a cab that cuts us off. I really can’t wait to be back on solid ground.

“So that means that whatever you did in there, was good enough to impress them.” She continues, totally unfazed by the cab that just nearly killed us.

I sit back in my seat, and contemplate her words. She may be right. Maybe they enjoyed my variation so much that they didn’t even need to think about it. The only thing that threw me off though, was their expressions. I didn’t expect a standing ovation, but I thought I would’ve seen maybe one glimpse of a smile. I guess they’re old men who have been doing this for a long time—well two of the three. Maybe I’m just thinking too hard about it.

“You know…” I fold my arms across my chest. “Maybe you’re right.”

Scarlett lets out a quiet chuckle. “Well, there’s a first for everything.”

I playfully smack her bicep, “Oh, be quiet.” A small laugh escapes me.

We sit in a comfortable silence for the rest of the drive. Every once in a while, I pretend to drink the coffee so it doesn’t look like I’m not appreciative. A few almost-fender-benders later, she pulls up to the front of my apartment, and I about weep with relief. New York traffic isn’t for the weak.

I thank Scarlett for the ride, grab my bag from the backseat, and make my way to my apartment. Stepping across the threshold, I throw my bag on the couch, and pad over to the bathroom to start my bath. When the water reaches the right temperature, I pour in my favorite jasmine scented bubble bath and undress. I step in, the water covering me like a warm blanket.

I rest my head against the porcelain tub, watching the steam curl through the air around me. I try to quiet my thoughts from today, but as usual, my mind refuses to rest. I can’t stop replaying the cream in the coffee, the variation, and my conversation with Scarlett. I sink deeper into the water. Wherever my thoughts wander tonight, I make sure they don’t drown me.

8

Earth to Nik?

Nikolai

The moment Eleanor walks out of the door, tension leaves me with a quiet breath. I’ve watched plenty of auditions throughout my career, even participated in them myself. But the way Eleanor just danced… I haven’t seen anything like it since Daria. There was passion, emotion, and a hint of sadness. I could tell the moment I looked into her soft brown eyes. Though she wore a smile, her eyes told a different story.

She danced with emotion written on her face, but it was less present in her movements. They were sharp, precise, and too perfect. It was like she was too afraid to let go and truly feel the music. I wonder what it would’ve looked like if she fully lost control.

“Nik, are you even listening to me?” Kasper snaps his fingers in front of my face, interrupting my thoughts. “Earth to Nik?”

“Huh? Sorry, I was…” My words fade out.

Kasper gives a wry, one-sided smile.

I’m not one to get flustered. I felicitate myself on being grounded because I trust in the One who guides me.

“Uh huh, right. As I was saying—I think her movements are a bit too perfect. I could chalk it up to nerves.” He scratches his chin. “Or it has to do with her training at the Metropolitan.”

“I was just thinking that actually.” I state matter-of-factly.

“Sure, Nik. Like you weren’t making puppy dog eyes at her the entire time,” he teases. “I don’t think you took your eyes off that girl for a single second. I’m surprised you didn’t scare her off.”

He isn’t wrong.

I couldn’t stop staring at her. She walked into that room like she had nothing left to lose. I’d seen that look before, burned into my memory. It’s the same look Daria had every time she stepped onstage.

Dance is clearly her passion; it shows in every movement she makes. What I can’t tell is why, what, or who, she dances for.

Sure, her form is impeccable, there’s no denying that. The dancers I’ve performed with, or coached, have always danced because of one of two things: toxic parents who want their children to become successful enough to bring in loads of cash, or those who truly appreciate the art and dance because it heals something inside of them. It’s rare to be a mix of both, because each option affects how you perform. With Eleanor, it’s difficult to pinpoint. Her expressions are captivating, like I can feel everything she feels.

I roll my eyes. “Please, I was watching her dance. There’s a difference, Kasper.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” He chuckles. “Anyway, what do you think of her?”

I shift my feet and fold my arms across my chest. “I think she’s good. She has what it takes, and I can always work with her on her épaulement.”

Kasper raises an eyebrow. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He starts for the door, gesturing for me to follow. “I’ve scheduled four more principal auditions this week, and I’d like you to accompany me. Even though it seems your heart has already set its sights on Eleanor.”