Feeling Quixotic

She was late. Again. Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot. She pulled into the parking lot on two wheels. She put the car in park and opened the door as she turned the car off. It was Wednesday, sometimes he was in a good mood on Wednesdays. Dance bag, water bottle, lock the door. Beep, beep. Run!

In the building, she sped walked down the long hall. Shoot. Bathroom. Pee now and be extra late or hold it and have a shitty barre? She turned on her heel towards the bathroom. Late or not, she knew better than that. She stipped down to her warm ups and put on her slippers while she emptied her bladder. She'd done this one or two times before. Flush. Wash hands and go.

The studio was closed. The warm up music already playing. She peeked into the small window of the door. Please, please, please. Eye contact, scowl, smirk, 'you may enter' wave. She opened the door swiftly and entered quietly. He gestured to her place at the barre, empty, waiting for her. Eyes forward, hands on, feet in first and as her knees melted into her first demi-plié, she breathed out.

It was a glorious class. He was in a good mood! While she was stretching she could hear some of the hens whispering.

"I wonder how she'll take it?" She knew immediately they were talking about her. She was the new girl. Strong dancer, getting solo roles right away. Getting stuff thrown at her by the jealous and the frustrated. Literally. Last week it was a folding hand fan from one of the veteran dancers. She missed. Maybe they were talking about who would dance the part of Kitri. It was one of her favourite roles!

"He's out of his mind. I heard there is going to be a real bull." Oh boy. What were they kibitzing about now?

"He needs a matador. It's going to be one of us girls." Her heart sank. She had broad shoulders and strong legs. She was built more like a gymnast than a ballerina. But she could dance. Audiences loved her emotion and power and grace. She was too humble to gloat about it, but she knew, she heard the reviews.

The music started. The girls grabbed their lace abanicos and lined up. It was a new work of Petipa's original Don Q. Everyone was learning the new choreography so he could shape his vision. She hated corps work. Not because she was above dancing in unison or in the background. It was the headspace. There were always a few dancers who knew that the corps de ballet was where they would stay, so they would purposely make it uncomfortable for dancers like her. No, it wasn't just in her head. It was one of those things they don't tell you as a ballet student. You have to figure it out on your own. Fan in her face from the right, check. Girl to her left stepping across too far so she couldn't keep her spacing, check. She just needed to get through the turns and the girl spinning too slow in front of her and, check. No collisions. There is a reason people become soloists, they can handle the unexpected. The music ended and they held their closing pose.

"Five minute break," he said. They dispersed from the formation to the perimeter of the studio.

She moved to the back, away from the flock. Legs stretched out, her body folded in half. She just wanted to be alone. The chatter of the other dancers at rehearsals was distracting. They never said anything relevant or progressive. Just a bunch of clucking. They sounded like a brood of hens. She would envision them with their wings tucked in and golden beaks accenting each syllable. She giggled to herself, her smile giving away her inside joke.

Maybe it would be different if she could join in their banter. They didn't know how hard it was for her to participate in it. How every word not related to what they were doing at the present moment would fuel her anxiety. Nobody knew. People just thought she was arrogant or prestigous. It was not the case. Her anxiety would paralyze her if she let it. Analysis paralysis she had heard it called once. Ovethinking to the point of immobilization. Pretty tough to navigate when you are a dancer. So she developed laser beam focus to cope. Some people thought she was bi-polar, she was not. The multitude of tests proved she actually had no brain chemistry imbalance. But when the run of a show was done, she would let herself loose. Epically. Unrecognizably. She was certain after some shows there was a sonic boom somewhere on the planet from the release she felt. At the next rehearsal it was as if nothing had happened. She didn't join the party recaps. No need to reminisce about the past. Use it to move forward... now she was really in her head. She looked up and saw him walking. Please don't come over, please don't come over, please don't sit down, please don't...

"Hi," he said, "did you hear?"

She heard a lot of things... too many and she hated guessing games. A 50/50 chance of failure usually fulfilled.

Sharp inhale, "Hear what?" she asked. Exhale; 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

"His head is on the chopping block," he said motioning with eyebrows towards the director.

"For what?" that popped out bravely. She almost clapped her hand over her mouth. Be cool, she heard her inner voice tell her.You are just talking. He was handsome and tall. Eyes that made you melt. He had that smoothness about him that she was drawn to, calm and centred energy. Which also made her a complete mess of scattered thoughts and butterflies on the inside. Her mind wandered off. Maybe he could break her curse. Stupid superstition. As a dancer, yes, she had a talisman she carried with her to every show, yes she prayed and did her gratitudes to the Universe. That was different. This was an 'if you do this you will have bad luck' that had stuck.

She was always ignoring the confines of implied outcomes. People would send her chain letters. She never sent them on. One of her favourite memes was 'Friends don't send friends chain letters'. That's how passionately she hated them. Every once in a while she would wonder if the reason she was having bad luck was because of that stupid 'chain' she broke. No. Bad luck is an unpredictable outcome that is unfortunate. If you break a mirror, the bad luck is that you have to clean it up and potentially have no mirror. Not seven years of unfortunate, unpredictable outcomes, which may have happened regardless of the broken mirror. So why did she do it? Why did she keep tempting fate? Why did she actually think it was having a negative affect on her love life? She would defiantly put a ring that was not an engagement ring intended for her, on the ring finger of her left hand. The delusion of reality stuck. She felt cursed when it came to men.

She looked up from her stretch. Oh no, how long had he been talking? How long had she not been listening? That was the real reason she had such terrible luck with men. Her overactive imagination combined with extreme shyness (that no one believes about her when she tells them) made her unattainable. If only she could put as much focus into her human interactions as she could her fouettés. They were actually amazing today... she heard him pause. Shoot. She sat up, slowly, knees bent with her hands behind her. She smiled as if she had heard every word.

"Dancers." He clapped twice to get everyone's attention. Their artistic director put an end to what could have been an even more awkward conversation. Phew. Saved by ettiquette! No answer required from her and he wouldn't have to know she zoned out. Conversing while the artistic director is speaking is a boundary you do not push.

"I have been approached by the Bull Fighter's Association," he announced, "to combine our performance of Don Quixote with their 50th Anniversary celebration. I will create a masterpiece inspired by Marius Petipa's original choreography and include a live bull." Holy shit. The hens were right! What about their other soothsaying? Would she be dancing in drag? Be gracious no matter what, she told herself.

The artistic director walked over to her and offered his hand. She placed hers into it and rose effortlessly from the floor.

"My beautiful dancer, you will perform the most unusual role I have ever created. You will dance both Kitri and the Matador." There were audible gasps. Would you expect any less in this artistic environment? She was ecstatic! A dual role was only given to the strong and diverse. She was ready for the challenge.

"You, my handsome prince," he gestured to the danseur seated beside her. "You will fall in love," he paused for effect, "with the Matador!" There was silence and then the studio erupted into applause and cheers. The company had waited a long time to be part of the city's 'diversity and inclusion' incentive. No wonder his head was on the chopping block. How would this go over with the patrons? The company would fold without their funding. Risky. No time to worry about that now. She had two roles to prepare for!

She knew the next few months would be intense. They always were preparing for a show, especially one that was partially a new work. The patrons were coming in and out, speculating more frequently than they ever had. She danced her heart out for them. She wanted them to see no matter what the content, the dancers were worth their support.

The show was fast approaching and there were a few key patrons attending rehearsals reguarly. It was time to incorporate the bull. She wasn't worried about the bull, at all. A lot of the choreography would be adaptable to ensure safety should she, or any of the other dancers have to move quickly out of the way. She had been training after company rehearsals with the professional bull fighters. Learning their body language. Understanding the bull's response to her actions. It was invigorating! Seeing him there helped. He was not like the men she was usually attracted to. He had the same calm confidence she was enchanted with, but there was something else. He had a broader understanding of the whole world, not just the one that existed in the theatre. She had all but forgotten the curse.

It was opening night. The five months of preparing for the show were amazing. Not only was she dancing at a depth she had never felt before, she had a steady person. They had been sharing meals, talking about life, and working together to make this vision come alive. The fact that they genuinely enjoyed each other's company, and the first time he kissed her made time stand still, was completely fortuitous. He was there every night, watching with the same adoration in his eyes as the first time he watched her dance. She had the exact same look for him when she watched him mesmerize the bull. The elation of the show was different this time. She diddn't feel like a speeding bus with the wheels flying off, heading for a collision. She felted grounded and accomplished. She felt safe.

The closing night applause resonated throughout the amphitheatre. It was hard to believe it could be that loud without a roof to contain it. The company took their final bow and it was time for the after party. The patrons were so impressed with the company's adaptability and performance! Their accolades were only superceded by their funding. In addition to another five seasons with their artistic director, the Bull Fighter's Association had generously joined the patron's circle. After making the rounds for champagne toasts and many thank-you curtseys for praise of her performance, she snuck away for some quiet time alone with her matador. They wandered out to the portable bull pen that had housed her co-star for the past two weeks. He advanced to the bull and gingerly removerd the ring from its nose and put it in his pocket. She had glided past the bull pen, taking one last moment in the centre of the stage. He walked quietly up behind her.

"I know it's soon, but I wanted to give you something to remember..." he lifted his hands towards the twilight, "everything."

Soloists can handle the unpredictable. What was happening? She felt an excitement and nervousness that was new. She really liked this person.

He gently lifted her left hand and reached into his pocket. He slid the bull's nose ring over her hand to her slender wrist. The curse was broken. He pulled her towards him and their lips embraced, stopping time. They breathed out simultaneously. She would gladly reacap this moment, anytime.