Dance, Sugarplum

28. Lyla

CHAPTER 28

LYLA

FINALE

“Are you ready, Lyla?” Maeve stands beside me, bouncing in excitement. To her, the adjustment to our cast is nothing but good news. I get the part she believes I always deserved, and she moves up to a better position than the one she had. “God, I’m so excited. It’s our last show of the season. It’s going to be good.”

“It is,” I agree.

“Why are you being so coy about it? Did our super-hot director already tell you what you’re starring in for the spring production?” she asks with a salacious taunt.

“As a matter of fact, he has not.” I spare that question only a scrap of my attention as the matter of my debut as Mikhail’s prima ballerina is only a few short minutes away.

“Places, ladies!” Eduard calls, giving us a series of rapid claps to urge us on our way.

We take our places in the wings. Everyone is silent as the lights and music change. Mikhail’s composition cues, and I remind myself I am the star of this show.

I am his. Finally .

Other dancers enter ahead of me, setting the stage and telling the story of the girl who wandered too far away in her search for berries to feed her sick and ailing family. She wandered into another world instead, one of fantastic and horrible things.

My cue comes, and I take the stage with a swirl of movement and fabric. My choreography is fast, frantic, and aching as I try to find medicine for my family. It slows as I approach the spot where I enter that other world, the magic confusing my senses. My steps are slow, dramatized, and clumsy.

I fall.

The audience gasps at the illusion, but I’m caught by a male dancer and set right, ready for my costume change and to get in position for the next dance.

The production moves smoothly, and the reality of being center stage again is so good it sings in every part of me. The only way it could possibly be better is if my mother was with me now. If only she could see me.

Mikhail took care of what happened with Carter. He never told me the details, but his lawyers came around one day, and the police took our statements. Besides that, he shielded me from the whole ordeal. Even the house is being taken care of, so it’s out of my hands.

I’m glad Mom wasn’t here to see the man he actually was. She never would have married Carter if she had known the monster she was bringing into our lives. I use the strange pain of his death to fuel the drama of my moves. Wedge that sadness and sense of triumph into my features as Mikhail's production shines.

I always knew we make art out of sadness. This ballet is about Mikhail’s trauma, but I find a way to express mine too. This way, I turn something ugly into something beautiful with a twirl of my pointe.

The music reaches its final ascension, and my heart follows its beating, performing the last movements of this production. I end with my hands up in fifth position, and for a second too long, all I see is the blinding light shining on my face and the noise of my own breathing.

The moment ends, the audience claps, and the light lowers until I can see they are all standing. Tears run down my cheeks when I bow, humbled and grateful I’m here once again. I’m still standing after everything that happened, and more than that, I won. I’m back at the top.

When the curtain falls, I do too. Maeve kneels beside me, grabbing my hand and laughing. I forgot what it meant to be this joyful, not to feel like every step I take is heavy.

“It was amazing. You were amazing, Lyla!”

“You did great too,” I tell her as we help one another up. “And now we are both members of this company. I expect donuts every morning.”

She giggles. “The snacks are totally my responsibility, don’t worry.”

Mikhail waits for me right off the stage. His eyes shine and follow me everywhere I go like no one else is here. He hands me my jacket and my shoes.

“I need to change my clothes!” I say, but I take my pointe, using him to hold myself up and change to my Chucks.

“Not tonight.” He comes closer to my ear. “I want to fuck you just like that.”

I smile, my cheeks warming even though I know no one heard him. I put the jacket over my shoulders before following him outside. We leave through the front door, following the flux of people at the steps in front of the theater.

Mikhail gets impatient when people stop me to congratulate me. I know he’s ready to have me to himself. He’s greedy for my undivided attention. Tired of waiting, he tugs my arm, bringing me away from everyone and to the side of the steps.

“What’s going on with you today?” I ask, sensing there’s something beyond his normal silent brooding.

He stares, saying nothing until I feel entirely naked. I arch an eyebrow because I know he loves when I’m just as wicked as him. He gives me a slow kiss first. I hum in satisfaction, murmuring his name against his mouth.

“You were perfect today,” he whispers between my lips.

Before I have a chance to react, he puts a small box between my hands with a note right on top.

Your body is epic poetry

Your heart is a hungry flame

I breathe for you

-M.

If that’s not an I love you, I don’t know what is. That’s what I believe until I open the box and find my mother’s necklace, the one Carter kept from me, and I decide, that no, this is the truest I love you I’ve ever seen.