“So,” I began the conversation with my mother sitting in her small NYC apartment on a hot, summer day. We eat Italian Ices that we picked up on our way back to her place after hauling my stuff to her apartment. “Dad once told me that you used to not let everyone see you dance. Why?” My mom looked at me, shocked that I knew that information.
“Your dad told you that?” she repeated back.
“He did,” I nodded. “He said he was lucky to be one of the few people you allowed see you dance; but, how could you have danced all over the world if you didn’t like people watch you dance?”
“I got out of my own head,” she honestly answered back. “I figured if this was something I wanted to do as a career, I had to open myself up to the world to watch me dance.” She looked down at her Ice and began to scrape it. “Your father was the person to help me get over that fear.”
“Really?” I asked, not knowing that piece of the information. “He didn’t tell me that.” She smiled at me.
“Your father had a hard time taking credit where needed,” she simply said. “He promised that he would come to every one of my college shows just so that I at least knew one person in the crowd. It got easier as the years went and by the time I graduated college, I was able to perform without every getting nervous or having 500 things on my mind.” The smile faded once she took a deep breath. “The first time that he didn’t show up to a show was when I was in India for the Dance Production I was a part of. I had a solo and everything and it broke my heart that he wasn’t in the audience giving me that comfort I sought out throughout my career.”
“Was that the gig you did after you left?” I asked, putting the pieces of my dad and her stories together. She didn’t verbally say anything back to me; she simply nodded.
…
I nervously fidgeted with my fingers as I stood backstage with the other dancers, warming up for the show to begin in 30 minutes. These last couple of days have felt like a complete blur; I’ve been in rehearsal to learn the dance solo for the production at early hours of the morning, completely immersing myself in dance. I told Skylar and Shawn that I would make up for the time we lost to hang out while they were both in the area. I also apologized to Sahim countless of times for cancelling on dates because I needed to rehearse more. In a sense, I felt like I was over-rehearsing, and now I was nervous that I was going to forget the steps when it truly mattered. I took a deep breath before I heard Aimee call out my name.
“Grace!” Aimee said as she walked over to me with Maurice. I hid my nerves with a smile before they could see me.
“It’s time!” I excitedly said, in which both Aimee and Maurice did a celebratory dance. “How are you guys feeling?”
“I feel so ready to go out there and fucking dance already,” Maurice said, loud enough so that the other dancers backstage heard him. “I feel like we’ve been rehearsing for this shit for decades.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Aimee chimed in before looking at me. It wasn’t long after that I see Sahim walking backstage with his equipment, looking for me. His eyes meet mine and he smiles. Aimee looks toward the direction I’m looking, which makes me blush. “Come on, Maurice; Grace is about to get her good luck kiss from her man.” I laugh and shook my head as they walked away. Sahim quickly greeted them as he walked toward me.
“Hey, tiny dancer,” Sahim said with the biggest smile on his face. “You’re ready for your big, grand solo?”
“Don’t remind me,” I sighed. “I feel like I’m going to puke up my nerves.”
“It’s normal,” Sahim reassured. “First night jitters.”
“Not for a dancer who just learned an entire solo in three days,” I mentioned, shaking my hands to release the nerves somewhere on my body.
“You got this, Grace,” Sahim reassured. “You definitely deserve your time to shine. You’ve honestly sacrificed so much to be here.”
“At what cost?” I said more to myself than out-loud, but Sahim definitely heard me say it.
“Your daughter probably thinks you’re the coolest fucking person in the world,” Sahim began to say. “She’s probably going to watch the live-stream and cheer you on because you’re her mom.” I look up at Sahim as he spoke. I didn’t mean to start tearing up, but I’m immediately looking up to not let the tears ruin the makeup on my face. Sahim goes into his pocket for tissue and quickly hands it to me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to–“
“No, no; it’s fine,” I said as I dabbed the tissue lightly near my eyes. “I’m just grateful that even being so far away, she could see me dance.” I look at Sahim again and find him looking at me as I spoke. “I hope one day she can see me dance in person.”
“No doubt in my mind that she will,” Sahim reassured, placing a hand on my shoulder for comfort. “Tonight is the first night of the rest of your career to come; don’t let anything take that away from you.” I simply nodded as one of the assistants gives us a 5 minute warning before the show starts. Sahim quickly kisses my cheek unexpectedly.
“See you after the show, tiny dancer,’ Sahim smiled before he walks away from me. Once he disappears from view, I take a deep breath and take my place on stage. All the dancers are in place behind the curtain, waiting for the first number of the production to begin. I look directly ahead where there is a slight gap of the curtain that shows the audience. From what I can see, it’s a full house; people are dressed in formal attire and are chatting with one another. I wonder if mom saw the audience before her production. I wonder if she stood on stage, waiting for the curtain to open knowing the people she wanted there weren’t. I wonder what motivated her to even dance the way she did if eventually, no one that was actually important watched anymore?
I see the lights in the audience dim and the stage lights turn on behind the curtain. Before I could even register it, the curtains swing open and now the dancers are exposed to the audience. The audience applauds once we are seen. I look up from the ground and out to the audience once the first song begins to play. The dance finally starts.
The harmonies of the first song align with our moves for the first number. No theatrics; nothing distracting to us or the audience, we just dance. I don’t remember much once I started to dance, which was odd since I do nothing but think about everything all at once when I dance. It’s like this time I was just ‘Grace, the dancer’. I was a young girl in Virginia telling my dad that I wanted to dance like the kids on my favorite TV show. I remember the stage outfits that would hang up on the back of my bedroom door, staring back at me the night before a state competition. I see the trophies lined up in my room on shelves that my dad build once my bookshelf was full of different awards from different shows.
I remember dancing for my mother for the first time without even realizing she was my mom the first time I came to New York. It was the first couple of months of my senior year of high school and danced at a local academy while I was here. She was the choreographer of the academy at the time; I believe it was fate to meet her in that small rehearsal space. It was fate that we only ever met through our love of dance. I knew I loved it for the majority of my life and tried to mask it by doing something that was the complete opposite of it. I don’t regret the outcomes of what being a lawyer gave me, but sometimes I wonder what if I continued my dance career in college? Would anything be different about the way I live my life now? Would I even have Willow? If so, would I have left Willow the way my mom did? I notice the lights turn bright yellow; they twinkle on the stage lightly to give the illusion of stars. The first number ends with the dancers looking up toward the ceiling, at the stars.
No. I wouldn’t ever leave her. That’s what makes me different than my mother, no matter how alike we truly are.
…
I run toward the backstage and grab my water before heading to the dressing room. In passing, Aimee holds up her hand for a hi-five, in which I give one to her.
“Go kill that fucking solo, girl!” Aimee shouted. I smiled, running past the doors for an outfit change. The majority of the production was going amazing; most of the nerves left once I started to dance the various numbers of the production. It was tiring, but the feeling I have is one I want to feel for the rest of my life. I feel like this is the most focused I’ve been while dancing, even if I heard Skylar cheer from the audience a couple of times. Once again proving that you can’t take Skylar everywhere. I didn’t mind; it felt good to have someone you knew watching you dance in real time. I can only imagine how everyone at home is reacting to the production.
Once the styling crew finishes putting me in my stage outfit for the solo number, I walk to the vanity I’ve claimed for most of the rehearsals we had here. I had a couple of minutes before I had run back to the stage. I sat down and went through my dance bag, unzipping a section inside of the bag slowly. I pulled out a bracelet and rubbed the one charm attached to it; a key. I swallowed hard, knowing that this bracelet has sat in that pocket since I put it there packing for New York. I quickly put it back in the bag once I see the dressing room door open.
“Five minute warning, tiny dancer,” Sahim said, poking his head into the door. I smiled, walking toward him.
“Did you personally tell the assistant you were gonna give me the warning?” I teased. Sahim laughs but he’s clearly guilty.
“I wanted to see you before your first official solo performance of the production,” Sahim smiled as he leaned against the door frame. He looks at my outfit before looking back up at me. “You look beautiful for it.”
“Thank you,” I said, looking down at the sparkly golden outfit. “Do you think the headpiece is too much?” I joked, pointing at the ridiculous crown sewn into my hair.
“It’s perfect,” Sahim said. “Like the person wearing it.”
“You’re perfect,” Jamie said after kissing me in my apartment for the first time.
Sahim slowly leaned in to kiss me. “Two minute warning,” he whispered. My eyes widen, quickly running past him to head backstage before the number started.
I watch the dancers begin the number from the side of the stage. I’m beginning to feel nervous and the thoughts are pouring back into my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to forget Jamie’s words echoing in my head. Sahim. Not Jamie. At this point, I was angry; why the fuck would I let the words of a man that broke every part of my heart get to me on such a night like this? Sahim is the one that knows the real me, the dancer, the one bettering herself for the life of her family; he made me feel like a human being again, like I can love again–
The lights on the stage dim and a spotlight appears on the side that I’m standing on. This is the present, Grace, and the rest of your life. Live in it. The music slows down and I finally enter the stage for the dance solo.
And when you hurted, was I vindicated? The lyrics of the song were the only evidence of sound heard in that moment. I’ve hurt so many people to get where I am. I hurt my father, now reminding him of my mother at my age, doing the things that broke their marriage up all those years ago. I hurt my mother, not listening to her advice of getting into dance when I saw it through her eyes that she wanted better for me than this. I hurt Max, I hurt Ari, I hurt Scott and Emerson and Cami and Skylar and everyone else that I left behind because I was too afraid to stay in one place. I hurt Willow, for not always being her mom first before anything else. I even hurt Sahim for never telling him the truth about my past life; one that I’ve been too scared to speak into the universe again.
I hurt Jamie, for forcefully leaving him in that past, knowing that it wasn’t always an easy task. It was nearly impossible to.
You left me on my knees, heartbreaking.
I clunched my chest with my fists, dancing to every beat and word of the song, allowing the dance to completely take over my body. For once, I allowed the dance to depict all of the things roaming through my head; the emotion, the angst, the disappointment… the forever healing that’s inevitable for a person like me.
I won’t bleed for your love, I won’t bleed; I won’t bleed for your love, I won’t bleed.
Will there ever be a time where all of that just stops? Will there be a time where time freezes and I feel okay for once? Will I ever believe that I am capable of true, unrequited love without ever doubting it? Was there ever a time I just looked at something or someone that I didn’t antagonize in my life, and that for once I am able to just breathe and be wholeheartedly the person I am meant to be and–
I won’t bleed, I won’t bleed.
The music stops for dramatic effect and I’m now facing the audience, exposed and vulnerable by myself on stage in the middle of the spotlight. I catch my breath for the slightest moment before the music starts back up. I glanced down at the audience. That’s the moment where time froze. That’s the moment all I heard was the exhale of my breath.
That’s the moment I saw Jamie sitting in the audience, looking directly at me.
Letters From Liz. 