“I’m sure.”
Kimber heads back to her room, and I bag up the vegetables I was cutting and put everything back in the refrigerator. I can’t even think about eating when I am this upset. I pick up my phone and decide to turn it off for the night so I don’t have to hear it when my father calls. After a hot shower, I start to relax. I know I should probably check to see if my dad has called, but I don’t have the energy to deal with it tonight.
?????
Waking up the next morning, I’m surprised that I’m still pissed off about the fight I had with my mother. I throw the sheets off of me and walk over to my dresser. I pull out a pair of cutoff knee-length sweats, sports bra, and a loose fitting grey tank top. I get dressed, grab my dance bag, and throw in my pointes. After brushing my teeth and pulling my hair up in a messy bun, I go to the kitchen to grab a breakfast bar. I toss a couple bottles of water and an apple into my bag and make a cup of coffee to take with me. Throwing my bag across my chest, I head out to my car.
When I walk into the studio, I drop my bag onto the floor. I walk over to the stereo, plug in my iPod, turn up the speakers, and hit play. I sit on the floor with my legs stretched out, and I lower myself between them and begin to warm up my muscles. The melodic strains of Yann Tiersen’s ‘Comptine d’un Autre Ete’ fill the room as I begin to stretch.
Feeling warm and loose, I grab my bag. I start taping my toes and stuffing my toe pads with new lamb’s wool. Sliding on my pointes, I lace the ribbons around my ankles. This is what I love about ballet—the familiar rituals.
With the music filling the room, I grab the barre and begin to work. I start the very methodical routine: pliès, tendu, degagè. Feeling my muscles stretch, I continue to work the rest of the exercises, freeing my mind of all my stresses, and focusing on nothing but my turnout, posture, lines, and movement. Hearing the box of my toe shoes thudding against the worn wooden floor and the gliding of the shredded satin as I work my feet is soothing. I love this feeling of pure focus. Sometimes it’s nice to shut out the world and be completely immersed in dance, feeling like there is no life beyond the walls of this studio. It’s freeing.
After an hour or so, I end my barre work with grand battement, working on my high kicks. As I finish, I begin to feel slightly light-headed. I sit down and grab my water, downing it in just a few seconds. I remove my shoes and tape, lie on my back, close my eyes, and breathe. I know as soon as I walk out of here, the stress of my mother will creep in. So I just lie on the floor.
After leaving the studio, I sit in my car and call my dad. I just want to get it over with. I talk to him on my drive home and the conversation is the same as always. I apologize to him for my outburst, and he makes excuses for my mother. The conversation couldn’t have ended any sooner. I was done with it.
?????
‘The Edge of Glory’ by Lady Gaga is blaring throughout the house while Kimber and I get ready for our night out. I’m looking forward to seeing Jack, which is a bit odd for me because I never really take that much interest in guys.
I pick out a pair of cute white shorts, a sleeveless satin hot pink top with a white Moroccan pattern, and a pair of nude pumps. My hair is down in soft, wavy curls. I apply some lip-gloss before Kimber and I head out.
We arrive at Remedy, and the place is already packed. Kimber and I walk in and find a few of our friends sitting at a small group of couches that are set off from the dance floor. We make our way over to greet everyone. When I find Jase, he takes my arm and drags me to the bar with him.
“You thirsty?” I ask sarcastically.
“Not really. I just saw Mark,” he says as we slide onto our barstools.
“Isn’t that the hottie you used to see that plays guitar?”
“Exactly.” He eyes me with a serious look. The bartender approaches, and Jase orders us four shots of tequila and two beers.
I shoot him a questioning look and say, “Okay, spill it. Clearly you’re into getting drunk, so tell me what happened.”
The bartender sets the drinks down in front of us, and Jase slides two of the shots and a beer my way. We clink our tequila shots together and down them quickly.
“He caught me kissing his roommate,” he confesses.
I start laughing at him and take a swig of my beer. “You can be a slut sometimes, you know?”
“Trust me. I know,” he says and hands me the second shot. We sit there for a while and continue to talk and laugh. Warm arms wrap around my waist, and I turn my head to see Jack standing behind me. He looks good in a pair of worn jeans and a simple black V-neck shirt.
“Hey, Jack,” I say. When I stand up, I feel the effects of consuming the shots so quickly. Plus, I haven’t eaten a lot today.
“Whoa, you okay?” Jack questions as he grabs ahold of my arm.