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Elena
Backstage was a hive of activity during performances that would stress anyone out. Not me, though. I loved it. It gave me a high. All that energy, music, heat, and emotion were concentrated and distilled into that moment. Years of training and practice and the eyes of the crowd. It was what I lived for. It was all I had.
“Great opening, Elena.” Sebastian, one of my previous partners, smiled at me as he passed by.
I returned his smile as I rotated my ankles, trying to keep warm in-between dances.
The only dark spot on the horizon was the glimpse of Hugh James in the audience. The slimy sleazeball wouldn’t leave me alone. He seemed to think we were a couple since I’d gone for a coffee with him after a performance a month ago. He’d been sending me gifts and cards near daily. His unwanted attention was becoming a problem, and I wasn’t sure what to do. I had zero interest in him. I had zero interest in anyone.I was too busy making my dreams come true, and I couldn’t afford to get side-tracked now.
Men were trouble. My mother’s sad dating history was evidence of that. I wouldn’t be a faded former ballerina who had to beg, borrow, and steal to afford classes for her daughter. One day, I would be able to take care of my mother and repay her for all the sacrifices she’d made. For now, it was best that she was staying in another city with my aunt. She shouldn’t see my living conditions right now. She’d only worry.
This was my big break. Tonight would change everything. It was my first night in a new show. I’d finally been given the chance to showcase my dancing in a significant supporting role, and I was going to make sure I stole the show.
Nothing else mattered.
“Elena, two minutes,” a stagehand called to me.
I moved into position. It was hot as hell in the wings, and I could feel my heavy stage makeup forming a crust on my face. It didn’t matter. The audience wouldn’t be able to see. I was more than my physical discomfort. Nothing would distract me.
My partner for the upcoming dance lined up opposite me in the wings, to stage right. I nodded to him. Elliot waved back, and I frowned, a trickle of nerves stealing down my spine. His hand looked unsteady, and he was very pale. This was also Elliot’s first important role, and he looked scared. That didn’t bode well when the lifts we were about to perform required complete confidence. Faltering and hesitation could be dangerous on stage. I frowned at him, wishing I could speak to him, but it was too late. Our music started, and we stepped out into the blinding lights.
We started well. I entered a blissful state where I forgot about paying the rent and making four cans of tuna last all week. I forgot about my mom worrying about me a state away and how all my hopes were pinned on this fragile, often unobtainable dream. I was always one wrong move or unfortunate fall from losing years of hard work. When I danced, I forgot everything. The music wound around me and I gave myself over to it. I no longer had control of my body. Nothing compared to the high of dancing. I was relieved of duty and obligation and stress. I was free.
It happened toward the end of the number. Elliot seemed fine. He didn’t make any mistakes or set a foot wrong, yet when he lifted me, I felt the tremor in his hand. His lack of confidence was all it took to throw us off. He moved cautiously while I plowed ahead, my body not receiving the warning message quickly enough.
Suddenly, I was falling.
I met the ground with a crunch, and the crowd gasped—a simultaneous intake of breath from hundreds of people. I supposed there was pain, there had to be, but I couldn’t feel it. I was numb. I lay on the chalked floorboards of the stage and stared at my ankle, bent at a strange angle. Elliot was babbling above me and stagehands in black were rushing from the wings. I didn’t need to see the expressions on their faces to know this was bad.
An ankle injury is tricky to recover from.
A death sentence for an aspiring ballerina.
They may as well have been lowering me into a hole in the ground as they carried me from the stage.
I was well and truly fucked.
