GRAMPAPA’S OPERATIC SINGING FILLED THE HOUSE. I could see Gram, but she couldn’t see me. She was sitting in her teal-blue wing chair. Her dress was a beautiful combination of

pastel colours with its floral pattern, as it should be, since

Gram is Fleur the florist from Flowers for Fleur. Her dyed blonde hair fell gently around her face, making her stunning blue eyes stand out. 

‘I hope you don’t have those ugly work boots on, Yolande!’ she called. She was the colour of a fuscia lipstick kiss of family, warmth, acceptance, and unconditional love.

I smiled to myself and looked down at my feet. Yep, there were my work boots; steel-capped and capable of inflicting serious pain, enabling me time to get away from any assailant who decided I was the weaker sex and thus fair game. I lifted my boot up and stretched it from behind the wall so she could see it.

‘I demand you remove them at once, young lady!’ she said.

I stepped out in front of her, grinning from ear to ear. She was being bossy. That meant she was feeling better. Maybe the medications the doctor had her on were working. I twirled around in my dress—a black floor length, high neck, sleeveless gown to hide my safety boots and the scar on my chest. It was perfect.

‘Yolande ... you look stunning! Are you going somewhere?’

I walked over to her and curtsied before I gave her the ballet ticket. ‘Yes. I’m going to the ballet ... with you.’

‘Caleb Lawrence, come here at once!’ Gram called.

Gramps stopped singing. He was in trouble. Big trouble.

‘You should keep your natural hair colour, dear.’ Gram’s comment to me was curt. She was annoyed.

‘No Gram. I like my hair dark.’ I had dyed my blonde hair dark brown after that terrible day of the scars. Dark haired girls didn’t get the amount of attention that blonde haired girls did, in my experience. And I liked it that way. It made me feel safer.

Gramps stopped before Gram with a tea towel over his shoulder. ‘Yes, dear?’ He was the colour of blue, like a clear sky, giving a sense of peace and calm.

‘You knew about this ... this ... ballet scheme.’ Gram waved her hand in the air. ‘That’s why you said I should dress up tonight ... and the candlelit dinner ... it was all a part of the plan, wasn’t it?’

‘No, Gram,’ I butted in. ‘Xander left tickets for the ballet in the flowers of your bicycle. It’s a thank you gift for allowing him to use your bicycle. It was my idea for Gramps to do the candlelit dinner and to dress up ... I thought you might stress about going out to the ballet if you knew too soon ... and it might ... you know ...’

‘Oh, Landi ... that’s so sweet of Xander. But I can’t go ... just in case of ... you know ...’

‘I know. But your medication is working, and you sound like your normal self ... I have arranged the seating so we’re close to an exit, just in case of ... you know ...’

Gram stared at me as though my words were toxic. But she stood, as if testing how she was feeling. She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a sigh. ‘No. I’m sorry. I just can’t do it, in case of ... you know ...’

‘But Gram ... look at you—you are radiant and standing taller than I’ve seen you stand for a while now. Some of the research about Meniere’s disease says the vertigo comes in clusters and then goes away for a while. You might even be in remission now that you’ve started on some medication ...’

‘No.’

‘But you love the ballet ... remember when I was young, and we would see every ballet that came to the theatre with my mother, and she would sit there giving me a million reasons why I should choose a career in ballet instead of engineering.’

‘No.’

‘No, you don’t remember, or no, you won’t go.’

A tear ran down Gram’s cheek. I had said too much. ‘No. I won’t go.’

I closed my eyes and brushed my hand across my forehead.

‘It’s fear, Yolande. I know you will understand, perfectly.’

I turned away from her and caught my tears on my fingers.

‘Too well,’ I said, my voice quiet.

‘Please face me when you speak, so I can hear you...’

I turned back to her. Gram was losing her hearing. ‘How long have you had this disease for?’

‘Seven years. I managed to hide it from everyone except Gramps. But it’s getting worse instead of better. At least I have a name for it now.’

‘And medication that can help,’ I added.

Gram gave me a weak smile.

‘Surely your fear of spinning, and my fear of being attacked, combined, will make us a dynamic duo.’

‘More like a formidable one ... aaah—yes, I’ll go to the ballet with you. If you’re digging deep for courage, then I can do that too! Besides ... the medication is making me feel better.’

I held out my hand to Gram. She took it in hers. ‘I’ll look after you,’ I said.

‘I know.’ Gram squeezed my hand. The same hand that Mia once held on to ...

‘We’d better get going then. Gramps, will you drive us to the theatre? I don’t think my bicycle is built for two girls with party dresses!’ I said.

*~*~*~*~*

‘Sit on my right side, dear, so I can hear you.’

I sat in my allocated seat once Gram was comfortable. I looked around for the exit, should we need to use it, but prayed that we wouldn’t have to. I relaxed and looked up at the stage. A thrill travelled through me. Once upon a time I was a ballerina. Once, a very long time ago. Never in a theatre like this, but still, good memories.

‘Swan Lake was the first ever ballet I saw, remember, Gram?’

‘How could I forget. And then you were stuck on Tchaikovsky’s Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy for what seemed forever.’

‘I still love that music,’ I said, feeling the warmth of reminiscence hug me.

The theatre darkened, and a hush descended. The audience clapped as the conductor arrived and bowed. There was silence for a moment before the first piece of orchestral music began, and Princess Odette appeared out of the shadows on the stage to pick up the first flower. Our night of magical ballet had begun. I cast a glance toward Gram. She sat with a serene smile on her face. She was in a happy place.

I watched with interest as Princess Odette was transformed into a swan, then the scenery changed, and out came the male ballet danseurs. Gram touched my arm and I stiffened. Was she having a vertigo attack?

‘Who do you think Prince Siegfried looks like?’ she whispered.

I looked closer and kept my eyes on his every movement. I gasped. ‘It can’t be Xander, could it?’

‘If it’s not him, he certainly has a doppleganger!’ Gram said.

Suddenly, Swan Lake became even more interesting. I looked over at Gram. She had her eyes closed. ‘Are you okay?’ I whispered.

‘Most certainly. I’m listening to the Swan Lake Waltz, and feeling it vibrate through my body. I want to memorize the sound and feeling for when I can’t hear anymore.’

I lifted my chin to contain the tears that threatened to fall for Gram. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like, knowing you were going to lose your hearing. Although, I suspected she had already lost some of it, but I didn’t know to what extent. I turned my attention back to the ballet, and allowed myself to be carried away with the magic of the fairy tale, thanks to Xander.

*~*~*~*~*

‘Oh, to be young again,’ Gram said, and placed her hand in mine.

I wrapped my fingers around hers. ‘I’d like to go back just three years, before ... you know ...’ I said.

‘I know, and I wish we could. Things would be different for you then, my darling.’

We walked in silence for a bit, hand in hand. Would I be here? Would I be married? Would I have a baby by now? What mischief would Mia and I be up to?

‘Do you think it was him?’ Gram asked.

‘Who?’

‘You know, Prince Siegfried ... was it our Xander?’

‘No. I had a look at the dancers’ names on the program. There was no Xander or Alexander ... but Prince Siegfried was performed by Zan Lucas.’

‘Prince Siegfried was a very handsome prince!’ Gram said, her eyes dreamy.

‘If not a little too perfect,’ I added. ‘You know, like, too perfect becomes an imperfection, if that’s possible at all ... like stripping away their personality because all you can focus on is their perfection?’

‘Do you think that’s possible?’

‘Maybe ... I don’t know. But I tend to think physical perfection would be a burden.’

‘How’s that?’

‘Think about it, Gram. You’d have the pressure to stay perfect, at all cost. I think it would wear you down emotionally. No matter how hard you try, or the amount of money you spend, age catches up in the end, one way or another.’ I opened the car door for Gram. She sat in the front seat and beamed Gramps a smile.

I grinned and sat in the back.

Gramps turned to me. ‘Andi, I’m going to alter a pair of court shoes for you so they have steel caps. Those work boots of yours just look out of place with that beautiful dress.’

‘It’s all right, Gramps. I can decorate a pair of my work books with glitter if I have to.’

‘How was the ballet, girls?’ Gramps asked.

Gram talked at a million miles an hour. She was floating. I let her keep talking and looked out the window. Tomorrow was Sunday. My painting day in the studio. My “dare-to-be-bare” day. The colour red came to mind. I had to paint something red. Like the colour of ... blood. There ... I said it. It was a necessary evil to combat my panic attacks of all things associated with blood, just like on that day ...