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“How reassuring…”
“It’s true,” my mother chimed in. “We’re excited for you.”
“Ladies and gentlemen we are about to begin our show in exactly one hour!” Mr. Ashcroft bellowed. “If you are not a ballerina, a danseur, or a stagehand please find your way off my stage. Now!”
My parents embraced me—holding onto me for a long time. As they pulled back, they took turns kissing my cheek before they walked away.
I adjusted my headband one last time and checked my phone. Sure enough, there was an email. Andrew.
Subject: Good luck.
I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your first opening night, but I look forward to hearing about it tonight when you call me.
I’m sure you’ll be quite memorable to everyone in the audience.
—Andrew.
PS—I miss you.
Subject: Re: Good luck.
I am not calling you tonight. You should’ve been here. I’ll think about recapping it for you next week.
—Aubrey.
PS—You “missing me” would be a lot more convincing if the subject of the email you sent two hours ago wasn’t “I miss your pu**y.”
Subject: Re: Re: Good luck.
I know I should’ve been there. Hence the aforementioned apology.
And you will call me.
—Andrew
PS—I miss you both.
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Good luck.
I really wanted you to be here…
—Aubrey
I turned off my phone so I wouldn’t have to continue messaging him. I needed to focus.
All the rehearsals and dance lessons I’d taken over the past twenty-two years had brought me to this moment. In thirty-six minutes, my every move would be on display for one of the biggest audiences in the dance world.
It would draw critiques from the staunchest critics—the most advent admirers of ballet, and the papers would run early reviews that could make or break the remaining production run. But right now, in this moment, none of that mattered.
This was my dream, I was finally living it, and I could only make sure I was the best I could possibly be.
“Are you ready, Miss Everhart?” Mr. Ashcroft placed his hands on my shoulders. “Are you ready to show this city that you belong here?”
I nodded. “Very much so, sir.”
“Good, because I’m ready for them to see that, too.” He clapped his hands above his head, signaling the rest of the dancers to circle us.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is officially opening night,” he said. “You’ve worked hard for months, logged every necessary hour and then some, and I do believe that tonight’s execution of Swan Lake will be the best execution this audience will ever see.” He paused. “If it isn’t, I’ll make sure you pay for it at tomorrow morning’s rehearsal.”
