THE DOOR TO THE COMMUNITY HALL WAS OPEN when I arrived. I stilled when the sound of the sharp crunch of my apple bounced off the walls. I didn’t expect it to be so loud. Xander peered over at me while he was stretching. I grimaced at him and took another noisy bite of my sweet juicy apple.

I sat on the pew and put my apple down to remove my work boots, then put my dance shoes over my hobbit feet. 

Xander sat beside me. He smelled citrusy today, with a hint of liquorice, vanilla, lavender, amber and sandalwood. ‘The dance comp is in two weeks.’ I heard the crunch of my apple.

I looked up at him and took my apple from him. ‘Two weeks?’ He was trying to achieve the impossible. I couldn’t be ready in two weeks, and I hadn’t even started organising either of the dance gowns.

‘It’s my last performance of Swan Lake tonight—do you want to come ... and to the celebration afterward?’

‘Yes, to the ballet—thanks—no, to the party.’

He frowned at me. ‘Why not the party?’

‘Aaah ...’ How could I tell him I don’t do parties after that terrible day of the scars, with the exception of his mother’s birthday, which I had no choice about. ‘You’re such a big star and you’ll be busy interacting with everyone. I don’t want to slow you down in any way. I’ll get lost in the crowd and I’ll be standing against the wall looking for you ... or looking for the exit so you don’t have to worry about me.’ And people will look at me and wonder why I’m there with you, when you could have chosen from a million beautiful women. Unbroken women.

Xander smiled at me. ‘If ... after the ballet ... you change your mind, I’d like you to be there.’

‘Thanks,’ I said to be nice, not letting him know there was absolutely no chance of me being at the celebration.

‘Did you do your homework?’

‘Of course ... can I ask you something?’

‘Go ahead.’

‘Why don’t you have your real name on the ballet program?’

Xander threaded his fingers together and looked down. ‘For my father’s sake.’

‘You mean, he doesn’t know how successful you are, or how hard you’ve worked?’

He took a deep breath. ‘No ... let’s learn our waltz.’ He stood.

‘I need to warm up and stretch ... do you think two weeks is enough time to master two dances?’ I breathed through my anxiety.

‘Yes. We can practise all day tomorrow and then every night from Monday.’

‘But aren’t you moving on to the next destination in the Swan Lake tour with the company?’

Xander blinked slowly and took a deep breath. ‘No. I’m taking a break.’

I nodded. My intuition told me he didn’t want to talk about it. So I let the conversation end and moved away from him to stretch. My ballet body was more out of shape than I thought it was. Muscles hurt where I had forgotten I had muscles.

Xander stood in the middle of the dance hall and waited. I walked over to him, shaking my head.

‘What?’

‘I still can’t believe I’m crazy enough to be doing this with you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Dancing with the famous, Prince Siegfried ... if I knew who you were, I would’ve said no.’

He winced. ‘Because?’

‘Look at you, then look at me—a somebody and a nobody.’

‘There’s something about you, Yolande, that’s why I chose you.’

‘I think you made a mistake.’

‘Now, that’s where we’re similar ... you cross analyse everything before you make a decision, and that’s exactly what I do too. I know I haven’t made a mistake.’

I stopped before him and raised an eyebrow with disbelief at his words. He reached out his hand so I could take it. He put his other hand around my back while I put my hand onto his shoulder. I looked at his chin before I moved my eyes to his.

‘The music is the key to remembering the steps, learning layer by layer, until you have muscle memory for our dance.’

‘And visualize it before going to sleep and it will be second nature ...’ I added—words from my own ballet mistresses.

‘Exactly.’ Xander pulled a remote control out of his pocket and pushed a button. He placed it back into his pocket and we took the waltz pose once again, then the music started ... Once Upon a Dream ... our second practice session had begun.

*~*~*~*~*

My steel-capped boots were covered by the hem of my high-necked dark blue evening dress. I ran up the steps of the theatre and entered the doors while the sun set, casting a brilliant canvas of oranges and reds. I had arrived on the dot of seven. That way I wouldn’t be standing around by myself. Alone.

I sat in the seat Xander had gifted to me, again, and my muscles melted, allowing little sparkles and stars to travel down my spine. I hadn’t felt like this since before that terrible day of the scars. And it scared 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 walked out of the shadows on the stage to pick up the first flower. The night of magical ballet had begun, again. It never got old.

When I sat here with Gram I had watched every ballerina and ballerino. But not tonight. I had eyes for only one danseur—Prince Siegfried. I watched his every grande allegro and pirouette, adagio, changements, plié, relèvé, port de bras and grand jete, and everything in between and over and above and beyond. He had phenomenal power, strength, extreme flexibility, balance ... and grace. He had amazing grace. I wondered what could be so important to him to stop dancing after tonight. He would miss it—the exhilaration, the attention, the addictiveness, the pure ecstasy of the performance and the fans who worshipped his every move, his every nuance. He would miss his dance family.

My heart tightened as I watched the final curtain call that continued for twenty-five minutes. When Xander stepped forward on the stage alone, he covered his heart with his hand and bowed gracefully. An almighty applause broke out with boisterous cheers. My eyes watered, and I looked towards the ceiling of the theatre to stop my tears from falling. My own final ballet performance, in the local hall when I was eighteen remained as a strong memory, small as it was, compared to this. It hurts to stop doing something you love. Even when you’re moving on to a new passion. Perhaps that was it? Perhaps Xander had a new passion?

‘Bravo, Xander, bravo,’ I whispered as I stood and clapped for my ballroom dance partner. I was honoured, and proud to be present.

Rose petals rained down on the stage adding to the magical evening. My heart sank. What a come down for him, from dancing with a beautiful principal ballerina to dancing with me. Broken me ...

I remained in my seat until the last person had left the theatre. When the workers entered to clean, I left and ventured into the foyer. It was busy with chatter and laughter and merrymaking. Dancers were floating amongst the theatre goers, interacting and thanking them. I smiled. I remembered well, the mixed feelings of finishing a production—the sadness, yet the extravagant, intensified feeling of elation.

I held the door exit in my sight and started to walk towards it. My taxi was waiting. A warm hand wrapped around my mine and I tensed, but when I heard the timbre of his voice I relaxed.

‘Yolande!’

I turned to him. He was the colour of scarlet, filled with energy, enthusiasm and a love for life.

‘You look amazing!’ he said with sparkling eyes.

I wanted to run from him, but it would be bad manners. So I dug deep and found the politeness that was ingrained from my upbringing. ‘Zan, congratulations on another brilliant performance!’ It felt weird calling him Zan. But that was his name on the program.

He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it, leaving my skin burning where his lips had touched. ‘Thank you for coming. It means a lot to me!’

‘Ah—but I’m just one of thousands of adoring fans.’

‘Yes, but you’re the most important one.’

I looked at him and tried to catch my breath. A crowd of gushing fans started to form around him. It was time to leave.

‘Thanks for inviting me. I should leave you to your admirers. I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I said.

‘Please come to the celebration with me!’ His eyes widened, and his brows drew together.

I took a step back from him. ‘I’m sorry.’ I shook my head. ‘I can’t.’ I pulled my hand away from his and our spark of disconnection hurt. My reaction to him shocked me. He and I could never be a “we”. 

He looked deeply into my eyes and I held my breath. Did he do that with all the girls?

‘Tomorrow then,’ he said.

‘Tomorrow,’ I repeated, then fled in my clunky safety work boots, out the door and down the stairs to my waiting taxi, thankful I didn't lose a work boot as I descended the steps. I wasn't Cinderella, and he wasn't a real prince. Fairy tales didn’t exist.

*~*~*~*~*

I stood before the closed door of the hall, full of incredible, crippling self-doubt. Why was I standing here? I was not in his league? I would be the one to blemish his god-like status. I had to bail out now while he could still find another partner.

I pushed on the door. It was locked. I walked around the building and found a window that was ajar. I reached up and opened it wide, then threw my back pack through the window before I jumped up and latched on to it and pulled myself up, using the tread on my work boots to get enough grip to propel me upward and through the window. See—safety work boots were practical.

I dawdled over to the pew and sat. What could I say to him? Could I use looking after Gram as an excuse? He will hate me! But it would be better than falling from ballerino grace ... I had to save him from damaging embarrassment.

I looked up at the sound of the creak of the door. Xander walked in with a spring in his step. He was the colour of sunshine yellow. He was still probably high after last night’s performance and celebration.

He saw me and grinned, but all I could manage were burning eyes and down-turned lips. His expression changed at once to one of concern. I had successfully managed to sour his mood.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

‘I can’t do it, Xander.’

‘Do what?’

‘Dance with you.’

‘But you must! You’re the only one!’

‘I’ll make you look bad—’

‘We will look good.’

‘I’ll make mistakes—’

‘I won’t let you.’

‘I’ll fall down.’

‘I’ll lift you up.’

‘I’ll be a jittery mess of nerves.’

‘I’ll take them from you.’

‘I’ll let you down.’

‘You won’t.’

He held out his hands to me. I looked at his long fingers, the ones that had wrapped around mine with warmth and strength and reached into my broken heart while we danced. I lifted my hands to his and he pulled me onto my feet. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me with a gentleness that made me believe in miracles.

‘Dance with me,’ he whispered, like a magical spell that wound its way into my heart and mind, changing my outlook on life, so that the sun shone so brightly it changed the colours of the world, and beamed rays of supreme happiness and everlasting love.

I couldn’t answer yet. I wanted to bathe in whatever it was that he was injecting me with.

‘Dance with me,’ he whispered again.

‘Yes,’ I whispered back, ‘but please forgive me for my inadequacy.’

‘Are you going gooey la-la on me, Yolande?’

Was I? I hoped not. I never went gooey la-la over a man! ‘No. Just realistic about my skill level as compared to yours.’

Xander stepped back from me. He reached for my hand and placed it over his heart. ‘Feel my heart beating?’

‘Slowly, yes.’ I gazed into his beautiful eyes.

‘It means I’m human and will make mistakes. That makes us even. Change your shoes on your hobbit feet, warm-up and stretch, and let’s nail our dancing!’

I looked down at my work boots, smiled and nodded.

‘How did you get in?’ Xander asked.

I sat on the pew and started to remove my boots. ‘Through the window!’

‘Of course you did!’

‘Yeah—I’ll have to add break and enter to my resume!’

‘That’s an employable skill to have ...’

‘Clearly.’ I stood after I put on my dance shoes and walked away to warm up and stretch.

Xander followed soon after.

‘How was the party?’ I asked.

‘Happy. Loud. Tipsy. Freedom. It was a person short, though.’ He looked at me and raised his eyebrow.

Oh ... me ... ‘I would have been the walking dead.’

He nodded his head. ‘A zombie could have been an interesting addition.’ He held up his outstretched left arm. I placed my right hand into his left hand. His right hand came to rest just under my left shoulder blade, while I placed my left hand on his right shoulder.

The music began, and we took our first dance step.

Our third practice session had begun.