Juilliard or Else (4 page)

He dropped my arms and walked over to the stereo, turning on the classical music to
Swan Lake
.

"You must learn a new dance today, my flower," he said, walking to the center of the room as he faced the mirrors, raised his hands, inhaled deeply, and then bent at the waist to touch his toes.

I made my way over to the ballet barre and went through my stretching routine.

Ramón walked up behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders. "The fun begins, my flower.
En' Face
. Let's start with some positions." I faced the front of the room and made eye contact with Ramón in the mirrors. The sweet and friendly Ramón had left the room, replaced by uptight, pain-in-the-ass Ramón instead. "First position; arms and legs," he commanded.

I positioned my arms at a curve in front of my body, forming a circle, the balls of my feet turned out completely so my heels touched each other and my toes pointed outward.

"Very nice," he rewarded. "Second position, arms and legs."

I positioned my arms open to one side with my elbows slightly rounded like the first position; on the balls of both my feet, I was completely turned out, but my feet were spread apart.

"Again, very nice Abigail," he said, nodding. "Fifth position; arms and legs," he demanded.

I positioned my arms and lifted them over my head. My arms rounded with the elbows slightly bent, and my hands held close together, but without my fingers touching. I placed my foot in front of the other, both of my feet touching as my toes aligned with my heels.

"Straighter on the legs," he said, bumping my calf with his toes. "
Mieux
." He nodded in approval at my correction. "Let's do an
Adagio
together," he said, placing his hand on my lower back. We made very slow movements together, looking graceful and effortless, floating as we performed slow lifts, turns, and other supported steps to warm us up for what was going to come.

"
Très bon
, my flower." Ramón praised. I smiled back at him. "Now, the real fun begins."

Swan Lake
is a tough ballet to dance to. Princess Odette is turned into a swan by an evil sorcerer's curse. To capture that and make Princess Odette come alive through the dance, you had to make all the turns perfectly and give the right emotions through the turns. Trying to emulate Odette's beauty while remembering not to fall, I kept my neck straight and head held up high.

Odette's evil double, Odile, is harder for me to grasp because she's evil. Instead of smiling as if I was Odette to show my beauty, my face had to stay passive. Ramón told me to think of my mother and glare, as if I would be glaring at her. I tried not to smile at that.

"
RAPIDE
, ABIGAIL,
RAPIDE
!" Ramón kept yelling at me to move faster. "
Tête haut
, head high, Abigail!" He snapped his fingers. "
Sourire
, big smile for your audience."

I corrected my face and smiled; my feet were starting to get sore, but being a ballerina, this was nothing new.

"Now,
Allegro
, Abigail." I leaped into the air as high as I could go.

"ENCORE!" I tried again. "ENCORE!" I leaped again, feeling that I went higher than the first time.

"Now,
Arabesque
and
Arabesque penchee
."

I stopped while standing on one leg with the other leg extended straight back. I lifted it as high as possible while tilting my upper body forward to maintain my balance.

"
Pirouette
, NOW, ABIGAIL!" I started turning over and over, rising
en pointe
as I did each turn, and maintaining my balance so I didn't get dizzy and fall on my face.

"Stop!
Echappe'
, ABIGAIL!" I stopped and jumped from the ground with both my feet together and separated them in the air, finishing my leap with my legs apart. I knew when I landed, my feet ended up together when they were supposed to be apart.

"ENCORE, ABIGAIL!" I did the leap again, but corrected myself on what I did wrong. This time when I was in the air, I felt weightless and landed perfectly with my feet apart.

"NOW,
Plié
and
Chassé
." I bent my back and moved my foot forward, and the other foot quickly followed behind, chasing it. Keeping my body bent backwards, I continued to maintain my balance.

"
Fermé
, too close, Abigail. Now,
Pirouette
again," he yelled, again. I was
en pointe
and started to turn repeatedly. I lost my balance on my toes, and it became my focus to correct myself, which caused me to fall flat on my butt.

I was exhausted and out of breath.

"Abigail!" My mother's high heels clicked loudly on the wood floor, alerting me of her approach. "Get up! When you fall, pick yourself back up." I stood up on shaking legs and faced my mother. "You never fall again, young lady." She pointed at me, pushing at my chest with her finger and causing me to step backwards; she always became furious with me when I fell.

"Yes, mother." I faced Ramón once she left the room and he had a look on his face as though he could spit needles at her, very displeased with my mother on how she always treated me when I made a mistake. However, that "one mistake could cause the most damage to my future," was what she always told me.

"We're done for today, my flower," Ramón said, turning off the music. "You've done well as Odette, but you have yet to master Odile. She needs some work." He handed me a bottle of water and I took a long pull from it, hydrating myself. It was very refreshing.

"I can do it, Ramón," I assured him, taking another sip from my water.

"
Oui
, I know, but I won't push you too hard." He rolled up a towel and pointed to the ground. I obeyed and laid down flat on my back, resting my head on the rolled-up towel. Ramón then unlaced my slippers and started to rub my feet. I winced at the pain in my foot. "Oh, you bleed," he whined.

I looked down at my sore and swollen feet. I had blood between my toes and under my toenails. He put another towel down and poured some water on them to wash the blood away. Having the cold helped; I would have to remind myself to soak them later. When Ramón was done rubbing my feet and legs so I wouldn't cramp up, he packed up and left.

After three hours of hard-core dance plus a new routine I had never done before, I really wanted a shower. I shut the studio down and walked into the hallway, almost running right into my mother. She was standing there with her arms crossed, tapping her high heel on the tile floor, disappointment written all over her face.

"Abigail, you disappointed me in the worst way just now," she huffed, her hands and arms flailing about. She looked more pissed than disappointed. "You had Ramón yelling at you for three hours; you could have done better. You better not embarrass me when you go to Juilliard or else there will be consequences." She pointed, slowly walking towards me. "You better get the leading role in every dance while you're there or so help me, I will pull you out of that school in a heartbeat."

That hurt worse than telling me I weighed one hundred and eight pounds and was overweight. With that said, she turned and left me in the hallway where I dropped to my knees, holding my head in my hands, and for the first time in three years, I cried instead of making myself throw up.

With the last of my room packed and ready, I came to a stop and glanced around once more. I had to admit, in some ways, it screamed
"baby girl arrival". Despite its juvenile décor, I had mixed emotions over leaving it behind. When I wasn't dancing in my studio, I spent most of my time in the pink, girlish space. I stood in my childhood room, considering the many memories it'd brought to me playing by myself, alone. My bed had fluffy, white pillows and a beautiful matching comforter that I would hide underneath when I was scared of my mother. I was actually more anxious about moving in with girls my age than about my audition for Juilliard.

I moved into my bathroom to get ready to go through my bedtime routine, but before I could make my way to the toilet, I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door. When I answered, my dad stood on the other side, wearing his burgundy robe and reading glasses. With his hands behind his back, he rocked back on his heels. "May I come in, angel?"

I didn't say anything to him; I just held the door open. He brushed past me and in just a couple of steps, sat on my bed and padded the spot next to him. He seemed nervous; I could feel the bed shaking which meant that he was shaking.

What was his deal?

"Abigail," he started, but stopped. I tilted my head to get a clear look at his face, and that's when I realized that his eyes were glossed over. My heart started to break for him.

My dear, sweet daddy – what has him troubled enough to start crying? My throat began to tighten and squeeze shut as I felt my own tears pricking away at the corners.

"Abi…" He couldn't even finish his sentence. His sob caught in his throat as he took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. I couldn't stand seeing him like this; it broke my heart. Something very troubling was eating away at him.

"Dad," I croaked out, but he didn't answer me; he just silently cried and trembled, the heel of his hands pressed into his eyes.

I couldn't take it; I slid my arms around his neck and pulled him snug against my side. I felt the wetness of his tears on my own cheeks as I cried into his shoulder. In all my years, my father had been a kindhearted person to everyone. He had taken more crap from my mother than I had, and not once had I ever seen him cry. He was supposed to be the strong one – the one who I could go to with my problems, and he would pound them into the ground for me, making them all go away.

When both of our tears were dry and our hiccups stopped, he cupped my face. His dark brown eyes rimmed red from the salty tears. "Abigail, I'm so proud of you." I started to cry again. "I want you to be your own person when you get there. Remember to have fun." I shut my eyes and felt my tears cascade down while I nodded in his hands. I felt his thumbs wipe the tears away from my face.

To be very honest, I had the greatest dad a child could ever ask for. He knew I didn't like the whole glamour or the extra schooling my mom put me through. I just wanted to dance. He was proud of me for becoming a ballerina – his ballerina – and for following my dream.

"I have something for you…more like a good-bye gift," he said, reaching into the pocket of his robe as he pulled out a velvet box.

I smiled weakly at him. "It will never be good-bye, daddy. Just…see ya later." I wiped my nose on my sleeve with more tears sliding down.

"If you don't like it, we can find something else," he sniffed, handing over the little black box.

I noticed as I held the velvet box in my hand that it was smooth against my fingertips. I usually only received gifts on my birthday or Christmas, but never as a reward. Mother said she didn't want to spoil me with worthless presents, especially since I already had everything I could want or need.

I opened the lid and sitting there was a perfect, elegant, little heart, covered in tiny diamonds and dangling from the silver chain. It was perfect and simple – very me.

I gasped at the sight of it, "Oh, Daddy, it's beautiful."

I took the sparkly necklace and held it up as it shimmered in the lamplight. He took it out of my hand and held the two loose ends open towards me. Leaning forward, he clasped it behind my neck and locked it into place, making it mine. My hand went up to touch the cool metal that was now placed perfectly on my chest.

I threw my arms back around his neck. "I love it," I said gratefully into his shoulder.

"I'm glad to hear that; I was nervous."

I pulled back and looked at him. "Nervous? Why?" Why would he be nervous to give such a gorgeous gift to me?

"Well, your mother has to pick out everything," he said, shrugging his shoulders as if it didn't bother him. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day." He kissed my forehead once more and then left my room without another word.

I walked back into my bathroom. I didn't have the nerve to kneel in front of the toilet. I didn't feel disappointed in myself, nor did I have anger towards my mother. I was too happy, and all thanks go to my dad. I brushed my teeth and went to bed, falling into a relaxing, dreamless sleep.