The Embrace by Vivian Wood

20

I'm walking down the vast, echoing halls at the New York ballet company, my head in the clouds. Specifically I'm wondering how to deal with Callum and his apparently immense grief. I am so sore today after having pretty rough sex four times yesterday. I only managed to escape the apartment by saying that I had to practice my dance moves.

I mean, that is true but also a clear excuse.

So I'm here this morning, even though no one else will probably be here until ten or eleven. Lifting my duffel bag onto my shoulder, I glance up and see Ella’s dark head of curls turning down the hallway away from me. I grab my bag and pick up speed as I call her name.

“Ella! Hey, wait!”

Her head turns and then she pauses, scrunching up her face. “Hey. Why are you here? The rest of the company is off this morning.”

I run the last couple of steps up to her, checking out her ankle. She is wearing a bulky cast on her lower leg and walking with a pair of crutches. I frown a little.

“I’m just here because I needed an excuse to avoid my boyfriend.” I roll my eyes. “I am the worst girlfriend ever. What about you? Why are you here?”

She shoves her hands into the pockets of the big off white, knit cardigan that she is wearing. “I came in to see the director in charge. I don't know if you've met him yet or not? He's named Mr. Park. He's just a temporary fill in for the position, I think.”

I shake my head. “No, I can't say that I've met him. Things have been really insane for the last ten days. I barely even know what ballet we are supposed to be performing.”

Ella's mouth pulls down and I catch a glimmer of dismay in her eyes. “Oh. I see.”

My brow puckers. “Hey, why don't you come hang out with me for a minute while I warm up in the dance studio? You can fill me in on everything that is been going on with you. It feels like it's been forever since we have seen each other.”

Her lips twist bitterly but she only nods. “All right. You lead the way.”

It's only a minute’s walk down the hall to get to the dance studios. I pick the first one, holding the door open for Ella to hobble through with her crutches. I toss my bag down, toeing off my shoes. She drags a chair over from the corner and sits down with heavy sigh.

I sit down and spread my legs out, stretching them gently. I try to put the fact that I weighed myself earlier and managed to gain three more pounds out of my mind.

Ella blows out a breath and sits back in the chair. “The doctors say that I'll probably never dance again. Officially, I mean.”

I give her a sharp look. “I was there when the doctor told you that. And she said that it was uncertain. I think you're being overdramatic at this particular juncture.”

She shoot me a glare. “I’m talking about my occupational therapist. The doctor that you saw when I was in the hospital was just my surgeon.”

I scrunch up my face and stretch the other leg. “Well, you still don't know. There are a ton of dancers with way worse injuries than you that have miraculously recovered.”

She scrunches up her nose, looking discouraged. “Let's change the subject,” she suggests. “Tell me why you're here again? Something about avoiding Calum?”

I pull a face. “I shouldn't have said that. He is going through some heavy emotional stuff. Someone in his life died. I should be more supportive.”

The waistband of my tights is starting to really bother me. I roll it down a little and hope that my discomfort is temporary. Ella cocks her head at me.

“Is Calum like…” She trails off. “Actually, I don't even know what to guess. I still can't get the image of him screaming at our entire dance class out of my head. How does someone like Calum even express heavy emotional stuff?”

My lips quirk. “Let's just say that we had sex four times in a row yesterday, until we were both exhausted.”

“Oh,” Ella says. She gives a tiny laugh. “God, are you two perfect for each other or what?”

“Well, I fled here rather than face another day of it. I mean, I love the guy, don't get me wrong. But… I guess I'm just glad that rough sex burns like a ton of calories. I need all the help I can get in that department.”

“Ugh, I can't hear a ballerina complaining that she is too fat. It just doesn't compute to me anymore.”

I roll my eyes. “You'll change your tune soon enough, I bet.”

Ella glances at her watch and frowns. “I have to get going. I have a doctor’s appointment soon. I’m going see what they can do about this cast situation. Maybe they can like lighten it or take it off or something.” She stands up. “Tell Calum that I said I'm sorry for his loss. If you want to, that is.”

I smile at her and wave my fingers. “Be good. I am waiting for the day that you come back to the dance studio, okay?”

She shakes her head but I see her smile as she heads out the door. “See you later,” she calls over her shoulder.

I smile and stretch for another minute or so, then start standing up. But as I move my legs, there is a distinct ripping sound. My tights ripped from my crotch back to my butt under my leotard. I freeze and blood rushes to my cheeks.

“Oh God,” I mutter as I start to sink back to the floor. This pair of tights is a brand new one, the last of a multi pack of different colors. All the other colors are still intact in my laundry basket.

My eyes fill with tears. This is just the icing on top of the cake for me. First Ella gets injured. Then I found out that Calum is suffering through something that I can't help him with. And then on top of all that, I have gained so much weight that I don't fit into the same tights that I've been wearing all summer.

A sob rises in my chest and wells up, spilling out of my mouth. I hunch my shoulders and wrap my arms around myself, feeling like the fattest and dumbest ballerina ever to grace these halls.

I don't try to fight the tears. Rather I let them come, sobbing irrationally for a little while. It's been some time since I've had a good long cry and this seems like as good a time as any to let it all out.

And that's when Manon opens the door, stepping in. She takes one look at my face, her eyes widening with surprise, and she freezes in place. For second, I sit here and stare back at her, my sobs subsiding somewhat.

Manon looks at me and I can tell that she's trying to decide between asking what is wrong with me or just backing out of the room. Honestly, I hope that she decides to just make herself scarce. But a few seconds later she steps in the studio, closes the door calmly, and drops her bag.

She turns to me, approaching with a cautious look on her face. “You know what I'm going to ask, don't you?”

I sniffle, my breathing all messed up from crying. “You are going ask me what's wrong, I assume.”

She purses her lips and comes to sit beside me, pulling her legs underneath herself as gracefully as you please. I can't even look at her, so regal and dark haired and lithe. She wraps her arms around her knees and considers me carefully.

“Lay it on me. After all, I owe you one. Remember when I freaked out and you found me in the shoe room?”

I take a deep breath and give her a tiny nod. “I do. I don't want you to laugh at me though.”

Manon's lips curve upward just a bit. “I won't. I swear.”

I exhale. “I’m getting fat. Like, measurably fat. As in I can tell by the fact that my clothes don't fit and I can tell by my weight on the scale. I thought that it was just a few extra pounds that I put on… You know. Young love, crazy hours, early morning bagels…”

Her gaze narrows on my face. “I guess so…”

I flap hand at her. “Well, it's not just that. I've been really watching my figure, counting every calorie that goes in my mouth. And yet I'm still putting on weight. It's crazy. Doesn't even make sense.”

Manon frowns. “You said new love… You are on birth control, right?”

My heart thuds in my chest. Suddenly, my lips are very dry. I try to dampen them before I speak.

“Well… Yeah. I mean, I've been pretty religious about taking the pill for a few months now.” I intake a shuddering breath. “I’m pretty sure that can't be it. I mean…”

She arches a brow. “Really? It doesn't sound like you are sure.”

“It has to be something else. Maybe weight gain from taking the pill or stress or something…” My eyes flit off to the corner of the room as I try to make a list of what could be at the root of my weight gain.

While I'm trying to figure it out, Manon consults her smartwatch. “It's still pretty early. Not even eight. Why don't we just take a pregnancy test to be on the safe side? Or I can make an appointment for you today with the company doctor if you’d rather be safe.”

I frown. “I don't want to bother Dr. Partridge with my nonsense.”

Manon casts her gaze over my body. “It doesn't sound like nonsense. It sounds like you have a legitimate complaint. Why don't you just take a pregnancy test and if that isn't it, we can figure out what the next step is from there?”

I roll my eyes and sniffle. “Where would we even get a pregnancy test right now?”

She gives me a look. “Are you serious? This is a dance company. There are literally a stack of them in the shoe room and in the girls bathroom down the hall… Don't worry, we've got you covered either way.”

I glance at her suspiciously. “Why are you being so nice to me? Are you just doing this because it will give you something to tell all the other dancers about?”

She shakes her head and rises to her feet, offering me a hand. “I hope that you would do the same thing for me if our positions were reversed. That's all. Besides, if Lucas knew that you were in trouble and I did nothing to help you, that would not reflect very well on me.”

I accept her help up, squinting a little. “Wait, are you talking about Lucas Fordham?”

“Yep. Lucas and I are… seeing each other, I guess you could say. And he’s told me that you matter a great deal to his brother. So really, you could say that helping you is selfish.” She gives me a hint of a smile.

I cross my arms, suddenly curious. “You’re seeing Lucas? Did you guys meet at a ballet or something?”

A faint blush rises in Manon's cheeks. “We… we hang out at the same places, I guess. We are friends. Or friendly, at least…”

I open my mouth to ask another question but Manon doesn't wait around for that. Instead she grabs my elbow and starts hauling me toward the door.

“Come on. There's no use in waiting. Just pee on a stick and then will know if we need to make a doctor’s appointment or not.” She looks thoughtful for just a moment as she pulls the door open. “Well, technically I think we will need to make one whether you are pregnant or not. The if we still can't figure out why you are putting on the pounds…”

I slow my steps, my mind whirling. What are the chances that I actually might be pregnant? And if I am, letting Manon know about it is the last thing I want. It really limits my choices if everyone knows that I am carrying a baby.

If I decide that I don’t want it, there is considerable embarrassment in having people know that I had an abortion.

I stiffen, resisting her pulling me out the door. “No, it's better if I do this properly and actually go see the doctor. In fact, I think I will just make that appointment right now. Rather than go through all this melodrama, I should just get right down to the source. Don't you agree?”

Manon stops in her tracks, turning and looking at me. “Are you sure?”

“Yep.” I nod, waving at my face. “Totally sure. Also, I'm might be PMSing right now, so…”

Manon rolls her eyes. “Okay. I won't force you. But if this story finds its way back to Lucas's ears, I would like him to hear that I did everything I could to help you in your time of need.”

“You can help me walk down to the doctor's office and leave a note on his door. And then maybe you can teach me that combination I saw you doing the other day… The one that ends with a grand jeté and two super-fast pirouettes?”

Manon smirks and jerks her head toward the doctor's office at the end of the hallway. “Let's go do this and then we can talk about whether or not you can even handle that combination.”

I smirk, composing my face into a careful mask. “I can handle anything you can, Manon.”

She snorts and starts walking. I follow her, my heart pounding and my thoughts scattered.