The Magic of this Moment

 Here is another story I wrote. It is actually inspired by one of my friends and my imaginary love life.

I couldn’t breathe.  My thoughts were a mess, thinking of everything that could go wrong. I did slow releves and put another layer of rosin on my pointe shoes. Looking on the other side of the wings, I could see my partner. I could see him shaking and any sanity I had left was gone. I slid into a left split. I had trained every day for hours. Ballet was my life, but at that moment I didn’t feel prepared. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to my friend’s house instead of stretching. Maybe I should have been going through my routine, not worrying about who might ask me to Prom.

            I turned onto my right side. I heard applause and looked over to see the little girls run off stage. They were all smiling and giggling. I guess one girl had dropped her headpiece on stage and all the other girls thought it was so hilarious.

            I stood up and started to pace behind the wings. My only thoughts were all similar, “Don’t puke, don’t faint, don’t die!’ In less than a minute, I would walk onto the stage as Odette. My instructor gave me a thumbs-up sign and I turned my head back to the stage. Fog started to flood the floor and I realized that was my cue.

            I placed my arms into the graceful swan position I have become so familiar with and tondued front. Taking three slow breaths, I said a silent prayer, begging that I wouldn’t trip over my own two feet. And, as the flute hit its last chord, I flew onto the stage.

            The light practically blinded me and it wasn’t until I prepared to pirouette that I remembered to smile. The combination was tough, and a lot harder with hundreds of eyes on me, but when it finished, I felt good. The curtain closed for intermission and I ran off stage to change my costume and, hopefully, practice the pas de deux once more.

            After retying my pointe shoes and hairspraying my bun, I went to find Bryan. Bryan was a funny guy, but definitely not the first person I’d want to partner with. His red hair, freckles, and braces don’t really help portray the Princely figure he was acting out. And sometimes his hands are really sweaty, but he is an amazing dancer. He is much better than me. He also is very kind and not the least bit stuck up.

            I finally spotted him over by a little girl who was crying. As I came closer, I recognized her as the dancer whose headpiece fell off on stage. When he saw me, he smiled. “Isn’t she the prettiest ballerina you’ve ever seen?” he asked the girl. She nodded and looked at my tutu with that longing I knew too well. My cheeks turned the color of Bryan’s hair.

            “Well, I better go,” he said, patting the little girl’s knee. “Thanks for talking to me.” He then held his arm out towards me and struck a ridiculous pose and asked if he could “escort me to my pond.” With his words, my fears came anew. We still had half the performance, including my acting of Odele and then our traumatic death together. I fidgeted and checked my bun for stray hairs.

            When we got back to the wings, we realized there wasn’t enough time to go over our part. Wishing each other luck, we got in our opening places. After being on stage once, the second time wasn’t as scary. The second act went well, besides one of the fog machines going at the wrong time, the second half of the production started off without much error.

            However, when it was time for our pas de deux, I could feel my knees wobbling. Bryan grabbed my hand and I almost pulled back; he was sweating up a storm. Now I don’t know if you’ve ever partnered before, but imagine a sweaty guy lifting you in the air. Sounds gross, right? Well, you probably didn’t realize this will also make his hands very slippery.

            My hands were clammy and I’m sure I made a very unlady-like face. I heard a chuckle come inside Bryan’s throat and his lips tried to tell me something but I was turning before I could read his words. All throughout the first part, I kept looking at him, trying to figure out what he said. I came back to reality when I prepared for the lifts. I did a soutenu out of the fish dive and started falling. My pointe shoe slid on a stray bobby pin and I was tumbling backwards. Bryan was there in a second and pulled me into the move everyone calls the “awkward cuddle.” Although this wasn’t supposed to come until later in this dance, I was very grateful for his quick actions. The dance did end well and we finished on time. We bowed and the curtains closed.

            We ran off stage to change and discuss how well opening night had gone. I pulled on my warm-ups. Scrambling through groups of mothers congratulating their children and chattery teenage girls, I got to the rack that held my costumes. I slipped my white tutu onto its hanger and fingered the beads. I knew my parents didn’t come to this performance so I was in no hurry to get out into the audience. I finally hung up my tutu, lost in my own daydreams of the night’s performance when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to find Bryan. Let me tell ya, he looked much different on stage than he did then in his jeans and t-shirt. “Do you need a ride?”

            I looked around. I guess I had not noticed everyone’s exit, but I was the only one left in the costume room. “Oh, it’s ok, I’ll just call my dad.” I said, while unzipping my bag. I reached to grab my phone, but his hand stopped mine.

            “Really, it’s no problem,” he said. “Besides, I actually need help finding my way home.”

            “Well, I’ll try to help, but I’ll warn you right now, I have a terrible sense of direction,” I confided.

            Bryan took my bags and easily lifted them over his shoulder. I smiled and he gave me this really strange look. Then, without warning, he picked me up and flung me on his shoulder too. I let out a screech and he chuckled, low and deep. The sound of his laugh brought me back to that night’s events and my tongue didn’t hold back my curiosity. “What were you saying?”

            Now let me explain. I’m not very good at talking to people (well, duh!) that’s why I dance. It’s my form of communication. “I didn’t say anything,” he said, obviously confused. He pulled me off his shoulder and opened his car door.

            “I meant today during the pas de deux. You know, right before the pirouette?”

He smiled and hopped into the car. Buckling our seatbelts, the silence from my unanswered question stretched on. Bryan finally changed the subject, “So, how’s your boyfriend?” he asked. Blushing, I told him I didn’t have one. The conversation lightened and I realized there was a lot more to Bryan than I once thought. As we got nearer to home, I found myself hoping the drive was longer. I felt comfortable talking to Bryan about his crazy siblings and the ways he pulled pranks on them. We only got lost once, and I have a feeling he did it intentionally.

            When his car pulled into my driveway, Bryan jumped out and helped me carry my stuff to the door. “Thanks for the ride,” I said, while grabbing the door handle. He gave no reply, and I turned to see if he was still there. His green eyes met mine and he grabbed my hand. I had held his hand so many times before, but never like this. This was real life; this wasn’t another character. This wasn’t a way to get into a lift. This was just two people that had only recently realized how much they cared for each other.

            “I love you,” he whispered.

            “What?”

            “That’s what I was trying to tell you during the dance.” I still wasn’t sure if I had heard him right, but as he reached out to kiss me, I assumed it had been something along those lines. Bryan pulled away quickly and with a deep bow, returned to his old self.

            “I will see you tomorrow, my lady.” For some reason, the words “my lady” hung in my mind more than they probably should have. I waltzed into the living room wondering if tomorrow could compare to the magic of this moment.

            For some strange reason, I was sure it would!