It’s 3 a.m., and the tea kettle’s whistling. Alison tiptoes into the kitchen, before it wakes her roommate.
When it’s this close to opening night, Alison’s dreams become interpretive dance, with all the little fragments of her life told through Tchaikovsky waltz and colorful twirling costumes on a lit stage. The floor feels like a sea of cotton under her feet, silent and gentle as she makes the perfect landing.
It’s gotten harder to sleep. Lately, the stage has been turning darker, the music subsiding. Dancing creatures surround her, scavengers picking off a weak prey.
A Surprise Encounter
The routine has become permanently ingrained in her muscles’ memory, and she finds herself practicing the steps every chance she has while she’s standing outside Grounds Coffee. Alison points her right toe out in front of her, drawing an invisible half-circle in the grass. There’s a double tap on her shoulder.
Never in a million years did she expect to see Samantha, her old college roommate. “Oh my God, I don’t believe it!” She screams with joy, hugging Alison with her right arm. Samantha is just as she remembered. She wears the Sporty Spice look quite well, with track pants, retro mint sneakers, and her long brown hair tied in a high ponytail. The excitement in her voice is contagious, sweeping Alison up in memories of college.
They danced in the same freshman technique class, until Samantha switched her focus to Jazz, which actually became the best thing for their relationship in the end. No more silent judging, secretly hoping the other falls on her face. After she graduated, she’d become accustomed to the isolation of perfectionism, with only the company of her own judgmental face looking back in the mirror. Samantha was the only friend who came to her shows, came backstage to keep her eyeliner from looking too Lady Gaga.
They reminisced for a couple of hours. They laughed about Stephan the choreographer, who was always yelling “Biegung!” and other orders in German, and his wooden ruler he’d slap on her back leg when her stance wasn’t straight.
[aesop_gallery id="727"]Alison thought back to their first dorm party on homecoming weekend, packed full of people from their floor. It was the place of many first meetings, like Jessa, who dances at the same company now, and Bobby the hipster philosophy student with the hobo beard. Whatever happened to him?
A quick sting of regret came over her. She was guilty for abandoning her friends over the past year. Things took a sharp turn after graduation, when the competition was so fierce, auditioning for a slot with the few dance companies left in Redmonton. Alison never was any good at finding a personal life, except when an injury might force her to slow down.
Well, it’s never too late.
Samantha begged Alison to come out with their old friends, for a birthday get-together at her new loft. Alison said yes.
It was odd, this sensation of lace and polyester rubbing her skin, instead of spandex and pink tights, and venturing out into the outside world.
Alison took a good hour trying to find a decent pair of heels to match her green lace dress. The anticipation, the nervousness, of seeing old friends was high. When she arrived at Samantha’s loft downtown, above a furniture store, there was champagne already popped open. In the first hour, she was wandering between groups, trying to find a face she’d recognize.
She held a handful of stuffed mushrooms in her palm, staring at the bizarre paintings hung above the television. She stood just a few inches from the one that caught her eyes, and turned her head sideways, as if she might like them more after more thoughtful consideration. It was a super trippy version of Alice in Wonderland, with a decapitated Alice at the center surrounded by psychedelic creatures.
All the conversations, she felt so disconnected, as Samantha’s friends talked about TV shows, restaurants, and other things she didn’t know. Every once in a while, Alison would nod, just to avoid the awkwardness in admitting she never did anything.
Alison poured herself a glass of champagne and walked out to the balcony. That’s when she saw Pete, leaning against the railing, calm and cool. Their eyes met for a few seconds, he looked away, clearly not planning to acknowledge her.
“Hey Pete,” she called out to him, the champagne doing her no good at this point, as she was a lightweight.
“Oh,” The closer she got, the more he straightened up, matting down his shirt. The hug between them was awkward. He leaned in only halfway, putting his hand on her shoulder for a second, like they were strangers. “You doing alright?”
“Oh, yeah!” Okay too much. “I’m awesome,” Alison continued with some aggression. Way too much.
“I heard about your upcoming show, congrats. You must be so happy.” Whether he was being genuine or mocking her, it was hard to say. In his eyes, there was this crude look she couldn’t let go. He was content, so unfazed to see her. And for the few seconds it lasted, there grew a toxic accumulation of what she didn’t have the chance to say, all this time. The words flew out of her mouth, but mostly a breakdown into drunken gibberish.
“You’re the knife!” Alison knew there were eyes on her. “You’re the knife, and you know it. Don’t touch me.” She shook her head sloppily, when he tried to help steady her.
“What’s he doing here?” Alison stormed back inside and grabbed her friend’s arm, pulling her aside in the hallway.
“Oh,” Samantha noticed Pete outside. “I didn’t think he’d be coming.” Her face reddened, embarrassed by the mistake.
“I gotta get out of here.” By the tremor in her voice, Alison knew she was losing. Alison embraced her friend, promising to meet for dinner sometime soon. And then she ran away.
