Prima - Alta Hensley Page 0,5
and I saw it light with a glow as she smiled, refusing to allow the disease to take her spirit.
“Besides, child, think about how far that gorgeous man’s chiseled jaw will drop when you try out and beat any poor soul he tries to put up against you.”
God, I so loved her and couldn’t stop a smile at her teasing. Still, as satisfying as that would be, one of us had to face reality. “I can’t. What about you?” I walked over to the sink to pour her a glass of water. “Plus, I have my hands busy with my classes,” I lied.
Whatever my dreams were, whatever I wanted, I needed to be there for her. She could argue all she wanted, but she relied heavily on me, and that was all there was to it. She needed me on her good days, and she definitely needed me when she was suffering. When that pain was radiating through her fragile body, she couldn’t do a single thing for herself. The time of attempting to bury my head in the sand and ignore what was right in front of my face had ended four years ago. I wasn’t about to ignore the fact my place was right here, regardless of what she said.
“What about me? I’ll be fine.”
It was exactly like her to put my needs first, but it really wasn’t so simple.
“Just because some man came here, doesn’t mean the ballet world would trust me and welcome me back with open arms. I don’t think anyone ever will again. I doubt I’d even get a part in the corps de ballet much less a starring role.”
What I thought but didn’t dare say was I was positive I’d get a middle finger and a forcefully delivered “fuck you” instead.
“I don’t want to get my hopes up because some naïve little boy who is in over his head with Mommy’s business that he knows nothing about says so,” I added feeling an almost desperate need to get out of the house, and I needed to do it before my grandmother kept harping on me. “Besides, who needs a theater to dance?” Looking out the window, the sight of a blue jay gave me my excuse. “I’ve got to pick those strawberries before the birds take them all. I know how much you enjoy them added to your yogurt.”
I handed my grandmother the glass of water and her pills off the counter before helping her into a chair. “I love the fact that you’re my hero, Baba, but it’s best not to go back,” I said, bending to kiss a cheek as soft as crepe paper. Blinking rapidly to keep welling tears at bay, I gave her a gentle hug, grabbed a colander from the cabinet, and left before she could say another word.
I wanted the fresh air to help me forget about everything, but somehow it didn’t quite work out that way. Instead, ballet was all I could think about. I remembered my glory days when things were amazing. I recalled when dancing was my entire life, when it was all I cared about. I tried to picture being back on the stage again. Tried to imagine how it might have been if I’d not fallen into the arms of Nikolai Kosloff and had not stepped into the pile of shit that came later. Would I be able to do it? To go back to that life. Even though it had been four years, would the rest of the world still blame and hate me for what had happened?
Brushing aside the furry green leaves of a plant, I plucked the red berry and added it to the colander. Why did Alek have to come and complicate my existence by offering me a chance to regain the life I’d thrown away? Another berry was exposed, picked, and added to my harvest even as I had to blink again. The man might have succeeded in bringing tears to my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. The raucous scolding call of the jay had me damning another male for re-sparking my heart’s deepest desire. Giving an angry swipe of my sleeve against my cheek, I moved to another row of plants, lifting leaves and snatching ripe strawberries from their stems before allowing the leaves to fall back into place to cover those not yet ready to leave the sanctuary of their home. Why couldn’t Alek have simply let things lie? Why had he