her kind of people). She had her wish (except the people were not her kind of people). I knew she wouldn’t comment on my outfit or the makeup because she figured Violet’s house would be my last stop.
I had never given her reason to worry about wild behavior. That was my sister’s expertise, not mine.
“Scarlett,” she said, matter of fact. “What are your plans?” She put down her knife and fork like any proper lady would, gently, and then tapped the sides of her mouth with her white cloth napkin before placing it back in her lap.
On many occasions, I felt the urge to find the similarities between us. My hair was dark where hers was blonde. My eyes were green where hers were hazel.
My mother and sister shared more traits than I could count on one hand. The color of my hair had been passed down from my father’s side, or so most said. It had been my belief that when people looked, they found something to connect the family dots.
I never could.
Apart from the “talent” that I had been brought up to believe came from Maja Resnik, the rest of me seemed foreign to these people.
As if the thought summoned her, my Slovenian grandmother, the world-famous ballerina Maja Resnik, glided into the dining room as though she were still on the stage—life was a stage to her. Her hair had been pulled back into a tight bun, her face moisturized for the night and still close to flawless, her pants flowing, moving with her as though she controlled the elegant dance between legs, feet, and clothes. Ethereal, most called her. Which was true, but she was also one of the most grueling teachers I had ever had in the studio. Age was nothing but a number to her.
She took me by the hand and smiled with a perfect set of teeth. “Scarlett.” She brought my hand to her lips, and then she lapsed into her native language. “This time of your life is one of the most romantic times in a young girl’s life. But we must not let this deter us from moving forward. You should never replace one love with another. You have room for both.”
These words made my mother’s ears perk. She turned to us, giving me a more thoughtful look. Another thing about Maja Resnik, she had an uncanny sense to read between the lines.
She smiled at me, her rosy skin going a shade deeper. “You have been flushed,” she continued in Slovenian, giving an explanation for her comment. “Love does us all good.”
I leaned in, kissed her cheek, and wished her a goodnight.
She dropped my hand, touched my mother’s head, and then went into the kitchen in search of her usual snack of cookies and milk before bed. “A treat to sweeten the dreams,” she would say.
Not wanting to expand on her comments, I snagged a dinner roll from the table and changed the subject. “I’m spending the weekend with Violet.”
My mother turned away from me, picking up her wine. “Have you given much thought to our conversation?”
The bread was soft, still warm, and smelled of butter. Ripping a small piece, I let the taste of it dissolve. “I’m thinking about going back to dance—full time.”
The crystal came close to her lips but stilled. “You are?” She turned to face me.
My father set his fork down and turned to me. My grandmother peeked her head out of the kitchen and into the dining room. Eunice, right behind my grandmother, raised her brows, her eyes round and curious.
“I am.”
“What about—”
“I’m still considering the rest.”
Her lips pinched and her nose turned up, as if she had smelled something sour. “You don’t have forever. This is your last chance. Your last year. If you think of nothing else this weekend, think hard on that.” She sighed, a hard, tired sound. “Your father and I are going on a trip this weekend. We will see you on Monday.”
I waved the roll at my grandmother and Eunice. When I turned back to my mother, I nodded once.
She nodded in return. “If you are going to eat the roll, Scarlett, eat it. Food is not a toy. And please, whatever you do, do not eat with your mouth open—it’s impolite and it will offend the Castellanos family. You are a famous ballerina. You are your grandmother’s granddaughter.” She finished this declaration with “act like it” in Slovenian.
I smiled with a big chunk of bread stuck to the side of