a couple of other auditions after that, and Alima had invited her out for coffee. The next time, it had been lunch. Over the past month, they had sat together and talked for hours.
Jasmine learned that Alima’s family was originally from western India. Her father was a politician of some distinction, and it had been his job that initially brought them to America. Alima was an only child who had been showered with everything she ever wanted or needed. She hadn’t understood how much that impacted her until high school, where she met Wendy. Because Wendy was also a dancer, the two girls had bonded their freshman year. Wendy had been raised in a much different household, however, and had attended Alima’s private school on a scholarship. Their time together opened Alima’s eyes to how spoiled and entitled she’d been throughout her life.
That caused friction in her family life. Her efforts to become more grounded and get more involved in the community were seen as teenage rebellion. Her parents had even discussed sending her back to India to stay with relatives there. She’d had to resort to keeping her personal beliefs to herself.
Dance was the big equalizer. Backgrounds didn’t matter on the dance floor. Talent and perseverance were the only currencies that mattered.
Alima’s back spasms started in her late teens. By her early twenties, they were completely debilitating. She had to take time off from dancing, something that sent her into a serious depression.
Jasmine understood that all too well.
Wendy’s friendship pulled Alima back from that dark edge. When Wendy later injured her ankle and needed surgery, Alima returned the favor.
Such were the stories of strength and resilience among the entire group. Jasmine admired all of them and was honored they had welcomed her so openly. She’d never had connections like this. The level of competitiveness involved in dance prohibited it. With this group, though, there was only support and positivity.
“How’d the audition go yesterday?” Miriam asked, looking among Jasmine, Alima, and Chelsea.
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “Sucked large.”
“Rejection City,” Alima said around a bite of the bruschetta they had ordered for the table.
“Same here,” Jasmine echoed.
At least she’d gotten the news immediately so she hadn’t had to wait in limbo, she tried to convince herself.
Miriam made a face. “I’m sorry, ladies.”
“When’s the next one?” Diana asked.
“Friday,” Alima and Jasmine said together.
It seemed they nearly always ended up at the same auditions.
“I’m taking a break,” Chelsea announced. “I’ve learned that my ego can only handle so many rejections before it wants to shrivel and die. I think I’m going to enroll in a culinary class instead, see how that does.”
“What a good idea, Chels,” Miriam said, giving Chelsea a nudge. “I think you’ll love it.”
“I know I will. I just have to be careful I don’t eat everything I make or I’ll never dance again.”
They all snorted over that.
Once the evening came to an end, Jasmine invited Alima to come and have a cup of tea at May’s house, knowing her friend enjoyed the beverage and probably wasn’t ready to drive yet after her couple glasses of wine. Tobias and Danny generously made themselves scarce to give them some girl time, and they were soon sitting with their teacups in the family room.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s got you so down, my friend?” Alima asked. “Was it the audition?”
Dido deigned to grace them with her presence, so Jasmine glided a hand along her dark fur as the cat wound around her. “Kind of.”
“Explain.”
“Let’s just say the audition hit home the nail that Will stabbed me with the other night.”
Alima’s mouth moved into an O. She knew more about Jasmine’s relationship with Will than the other women in their group.
“What happened?”
Jasmine told her.
“Ouch,” Alima said with a wince. “Failed auditions and years of regret? Talk about harsh.”
It hadn’t only been harsh, it had brought all of Jasmine’s insecurities screaming to the surface. It had also impacted her audition, making the failure to get a call back or job offer a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy.
“What led to him saying that?” Alima asked.
Jasmine’s grip tightened on her cup as she revisited the memory. “He was upset. When we were waiting for the concert to start, Lily asked if I was Katie’s mom—”
“Archer’s wife, Lily?”
“Focus please.”
Alima held up a hand. “Sorry. We can revisit that. She asked if you were Katie’s mom?”
“Yes. I thought her assumption would step on Will’s toes since he was standing right there. He’s been Katie’s only parent for so long