I sit at one of the vanity tables in the dressing room before rehearsal, trying to get a hold of Skylar by calling her. I look down at my phone, getting annoyed that she wasn’t picking up. I eventually give up when all of the other dancers begin to come into the dressing room to get ready for tonight’s rehearsal. I notice Aimee walking slowly to the seat next to me, clearly exhausted. I look at her before I start getting ready.
“Someone partied hard last night,” I teased, laughing at Aimee who is now giving me the death stare.
“Girl,” Aimee said as she takes her sunglasses off. “I was stupid for evening doing that last night knowing we had rehearsal today.” I shake my head as I continue to apply my makeup on.
“Have you spoken to Maurice?” I asked.
“Please, Maurice can party and work in his sleep,” Aimee pointed out. “He’s perfectly fine.” I laugh at Aimee’s response; that’s a very Maurice thing to do. Aimee finally looks at me before she starts getting ready at the vanity. “So even though I was tipsy as fuck last night, Maurice has eyes like a hawk.”
“Aimee, 3 drinks is being more than just tipsy,” I begin to say. “Plus, what happened to the ‘no drinking, just have fun because we’re professionals and shit?”
“I plea the fifth; now like I was saying,” Aimee continued on, avoiding my last statement. I laughed as she continued to speak. “Maurice has eyes like a hawk, and with his hawk eyes he couldn’t help but notice someone sucking face with another someone.” I can feel my face getting hot. Fuck. Busted. Aimee stops what she’s doing–and what I’m doing– to grab my full attention. “Did you and Sahim fuck last night?”
“Aimee!” I scolded her, trying to keep this conversation between us. “We did not…fuck last night.”
“Well Maurice said that you two were practically dry humping on the dance floor,” Aimee casually said as my eyes widen.
“Maurice needs to get his facts straight,” I pointed out. “Sahim and I… just kissed.” I try to keep my composure while saying that since I don’t want to give the impression that it was anything more than just that; even if the flashbacks of last night keep popping up in my head.
“No, you “just kiss” your friends on the cheek to greet them and shit; you guys were making the fuck out on that dance floor,” Aimee crossed her arms as she spoke. “You know I’m all for Grachim.”
“What?” I questioned. “What the fuck is Grachim?”
“Your ship name with Sahim,” Aimee answered. “It was either that or Sahace, but Maurice said that shit sounds like a pill you take to get rid of a STI.” I hold the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath; sometimes I am unwilling to handle the things that come out of Aimee’s mouth.
“Girl stop beating around the bush an tell me what happened!” Aimee caved in, now anxious to know what happened. I smile as I put my makeup back into its bag and begin tying up my hair.
“We had mocktails since, you know, sobriety,” I started to explain. “And we started to talk and he said something along the lines that he calls me ‘tiny dancer’, so I asked him if he had nicknames for all of the dancers in the production and he said that it was only me he had the nickname for.” I can feel my face get red as I recall the details. “He mentioned that he’s thought about me since first meeting in New York.”
“Oh, so he has game?” Aimee asked as she raised an eyebrow.
“Funny you mentioned that,” I started to explain. “Because I asked him if he took poetry in college because he had a way with his words. He asked me the same thing back and well I told him I’m a dancer, I talk with my body.” Aimee flails in her seat like a teenage girl, enjoying all the juicy details from last night.
“Girl,” Aimee began to say. “Who kissed who first?” I bit the bottom of my lip before answering her question.
“I did,” I looked at Aimee as I answered her. She’s loving every minute of this conversation. She laughs out loud and holds her hand out for a hi-five. I can’t lie, I was enjoying sharing this moment with Aimee; it was exciting and great to recall the amazing night out with Sahim.
“Look at a boss bitch making boss moves,” Aimee said as she cleans up her vanity area. “I’m fucking proud of you for letting yourself accept what you’ve been feeling. Like I’ve been telling you; Sahim seems like a great catch and I’m glad you’re allowing him to show you that.” Aimee gets up from her seat as I do as well, and we both begin to walk towards the exit of the dressing room. “You deserve a fucking gem after being with rocks all your life.”
Aimee and I walk down the hallway towards the backstage to begin rehearsals. We both hear the director call out for the dancers in our number to get into our positions on stage. Aimee runs to her spot on stage left as I stay on stage right. Has I watch the rehearsal for this dance number begin on stage, I feel someone touch my shoulder. I turn around to see it’s Sahim.
“Hey,” I smiled as I greeted him. He returned the greeting with his infamous smile.
“How are you feeling?” Sahim asked me. Giddy. Warm. All the butterflies permanently live in my stomach now.
“Exhausted,” I answered, settling with an answer that was only semi-true. “Definitely didn’t get enough sleep last night.”
“Definitely,” Sahim repeated. “Hopefully today’s rehearsal doesn’t worsen that exhaustion.” I looked back at the stage, watching the dancers rehearse the first part of the number.
“Hopefully,” I repeated back. There was a quick silence before Sahim said anything next.
“I had a great time at the club last night,” Sahim began to say. I looked back at Sahim as he spoke. He looked a little nervous when I turned around to look at him. “I, uhm, also want to apologize about what happened.” Apologize? For last night?
“What do you mean?” I asked, feeling the knot get tight in my stomach.
“I didn’t mean for things to get too far,” Sahim confessed. I left a little stupid now feeling what I felt last night. Why would he regret what happened last night? Did I not interpret him correctly? “Because now I can’t stop thinking about it.” My eyebrow cocked up, not expecting for the conversation to go in this direction.
“In a good way?” I asked.
“In a great way,” Sahim answered with a smile. “I didn’t know this was something that the tiny dancer does.” I laughed at Sahim’s comment, feeling much better than I did just a minute ago.
“I know that it’s so close to the show and rehearsals are pretty much our lives right now, but would you want to go out sometime? It could even be before rehearsals if we’re both too tired for dinner.” I asked, knowing that it’s almost my time to go on the stage for the number.
“Like breakfast?” Sahim asked.
“Breakfast sounds great,” I said, smiling. I looked toward the stage to get ready for my cue. I turn around one last time before i head onto the stage. “Tomorrow morning?”
“I’ll come to your door,” Sahim answered before I went onto the stage for rehearsal.
…
I tied my hair up into a messy bun once it was halfway dry after showering for the night. I look at the time on my laptop before sitting down in front of it. I took a deep breath before making the weekly video call back to America. I always get nervous when this time of the week comes; it’s like I never know if and when is a good time for me to say hi to everyone in New York, especially now that I’m out of touch with the time being over there. I pressed the phone icon to begin the video call and moments later, Max picks up the phone.
“Hey, Grace,” Max said in a hurry, looking as if he was in the middle of something before picking up the phone.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry; is this a bad time?” I asked, a little embarrassed now.
“No, no; it’s fine, I was getting Willow ready for school,” Max said, zipping a small pink and green backpack. “She insisted on wearing her favorite outfit today.”
“Ahh, yes,” I said and laughed. “She’s in her favorite outfit phase.”
“I just hope the other kids don’t tease her for it, you know?” Max explained, clearly worried.
“Well, her class is probably full of other kids her age that are also in their favorite outfit era,” I reassured Max.
“Some kid came dressed like a cowboy for a week straight,” Max recalled.
“That’s pre-school for you,” I said, noticing a little blur in the back of the room. Max turns around to see Willow coming down the stairs.
“Is that Mommy?” Willow shouts in the background. She runs towards Max in what I believe is her favorite outfit: a pink tutu shirt and a green, sparkly shirt with yellow boots. Fashionista. Willow is now sitting on Max’s lap, looking directly at the screen. Sh waves hi at the screen.
“Hi mommy!” Willow greeted. I smiled and waved back at her through the screen.
“Hi, Willow,” I greeted back; my smile never leaves my face. “Are you ready to go to school?” Willow nodded her head yes.
“We’re going on a trip today,” Willow excitedly mentions. “Ice skating!”
“Ice skating, wow,” I said as I look at Max. “You’re going to look so pretty with your tutu skirt while ice skating.”
“Oh! Mommy, mommy!” Willow randomly said as she wiggles herself off of Max’s lap. “Look what I can do!” Willow walks away from the camera and cutely excuses Max out of the way. Willow twirls and leaps; in a sense it’s like she’s ballet dancing. I smile wide as I watch Willow do the things I did when I was her age. Did Max and Mariam put her in a ballet class? When Willow is done, she bows as if she’s on stage. I clap as she finishes her little performance.
“That was so good, Willow!” I smiled as I said.
“Ms. Jeannie showed me how to spin,” Willow shared. Keeping the smile on my face, I looked over at Max, now looking a little nervous. Max slaps his thighs and lets out a loud sigh.
“Well, we have to get Willow ready for the school bus,” Max said as he looked at Willow. Willow pouted at Max. “Go and grab your winter coat from your closet, sweetie.” Willow runs back upstairs, and now it’s just Max and I on the call.
“Ms. Jeannie?” I asked. “Is that her pre-school teacher’s name?”
“No,” Max answered. He took a deep breath before continuing though. “That’s the name of her dance teacher.”
“You signed her up for dance?” I said, a little annoyed that Max would go behind my back on a decision like this. “Why would you go and put her in a dance class?”
“She wanted to dance,” Max began to explain. “So much that she threw a tantrum about it.”
“This isn’t the type of life I want for Willow,” I emphasized. I was worried that a generational curse was now in the works for my family. I feel like shit for even introducing dance to my daughter when I came to audition for the production back in New York. Of course a mother’s daughter would want to do the things their mother did; without even knowing, I followed my own estranged mother’s footsteps.
But I wanted more for Willow. I wanted Willow to discover life differently and find hobbies that didn’t require her to neglect every other thing in life. I don’t want her growing up to be like me.
“Grace, she’s 4,” Max pointed out. “She’s not making life-alternating choices at this age. The child is dressed in a tutu skirt and cowboy boots for God’s sake. I don’t say anything back as I see Willow walking down the stairs again with her coat on. Max turned around as he watched her coming toward the camera again.
“I’m ready, daddy,” Willow said as Max picked her up to have her sit on his lap once more.
“Say bye to mommy before you go,” Max said as he pointed toward the screen. I smiled once Willow looked directly in the camera.
“Bye, mommy!” Willow waved as I waved back. “I love you!”
“I love you too, sweetie,” I smiled and said back, wishing i was able to see and talk to her for longer. The time difference definitely makes things difficult for me to communicate with those back in New York.
“We’ll talk to mommy one more time before we see her show,” Max explained.
“Yes, I will send you guys the live stream link before the show next week,” I said before looking at Willow once more. “Have a good day on your trip, tiny dancer.” Both Max and Willow wave bye toward the screen as the video call ended. The smile quickly fades away from my face and take a deep breath in and out instead. I get up from my seat and walk towards my bed, falling on it with my back and shutting my eyes, hoping all these thoughts would go away when I eventually fall asleep.
Letters From Liz. 