by Jess Epps
"Thank you. I'll be okay; I just need something to take my mind off of him."
“Another handsome fuck?” she proposes and I roll my eyes at her and shake my head no.
“I’d just like to go to bed. It’s been a long day.”
"Stay out here with me, instead of lying in there alone and being all depressed." She pouts cutely and I smile and shake my head.
"You're ridiculous, Dillen.”
“You know me, little shit. All right, fine. Go get your ass to bed and take one of those sleeping pills you took on the plane.” She downs her wine and looks at me, “I’m going to hit the hay too. I mean…Skype Coen.” She blushes beet red and hugs herself.
"I'm going, I'm going." I lean over and hug her. "I love you."
She squeezes me a bit too tightly, but I don’t mind. She dances down to her bedroom and blows me a kiss from her doorway before shutting the door.
Getting up and taking the last sip of my wine, I make my way to the guest room and sit on the edge of the bed. I'm trying to do anything to get my mind off of the sadness I constantly feel, so I turn on my iPad and start shopping, which usually makes me feel better. I start to peruse Nieman Marcus' shoe department when my email signals a new addition to my inbox. Without thinking of it, I close my browser and open my email. It's from everyone at First Position. It's mostly just the girls saying they miss me and hope I’m adjusting well to the time change. I actually laugh when they warn me that I might pick up an accent while I’m here. I scroll down and look at the attached photo. It's a picture of everyone at the company. My smile falls when I glance over Nik's face. I'm about to close the email when my eyes shoot back to Nik's picture. "Holy..." His nose is swollen and he has a brutal black eye.
My eyes move down to the cast around his wrist. What happened? A very large part of me has a feeling that Noah had something to do with Nik’s injuries. If he did…I can only imagine what Nik did to provoke him. He wouldn’t do such a thing though, would he? Even if he did…it would have been because of me. I glance down at my mom’s wedding band. Sighing loudly, I whisper to the room, "Did I make a mistake, Momma?"
Noah
I HAVEN’T LEFT the confines of my apartment for the last week and a half. Facing the real world is stressing me out to the point of hibernation. My Galaxy buzzes with an incoming call. I reach for it, wanting to see Heather’s name and picture flash across the screen, but it’s Joel.
“Hey man.”
“Noah, I’m glad you picked up. Listen, I’m coming over because the two of us need to talk. I’d rather not discuss this over the phone.”
“I’ll see you shortly then.” I hang up without bothering to say goodbye.
I get into the shower and freshen up before changing into sweats. I pull on my ASU sweater, but quickly take it off and toss it across the room. It smells like her. I need to get my shit together. I can’t live like a lonely motherfucker for the rest of my life. I force myself to stand tall and breathe in deeply when the doorman calls to let me know Joel is here. A few minutes later the doorbell rings, and I make my way over and swing the door open. What in all hell can be so important that he can’t tell me over the phone?
“What’s up, man?” Joel greets me before striding past me and into my apartment.
“Can I get you a beer?”
"Uhh...yeah, man. You'll need one too."
“I’ve had my fair share,” I say, before grabbing two beers and walking out onto the balcony, looking out at the city as I take a seat.
Moments later, Joel joins me and sits in the other seat. He's quiet as he drinks his beer, contemplating what he has to say before uttering the words aloud.
"Okay. So what's the news?" I'm irritable and I'm sure it shows.
“To break it to you easily…I found them.” He looks over at me, gesturing for me to drink, so I do.
“I found your parents.”
I’m not entirely sure what to say.
My world has been turned upside down and inside out since Christmas Eve. Now, everything has just stopped. What in the fuck? Why? Why did he have to find them now, when she's gone? My mind is running over hundreds of questions but I can only stare at my beer. Just my damn luck.
Fuck it. I don't give a shit anymore. Taking a long drink, I sit back in my chair. "Don't tell me. I don't want to know anything about them."
"Dude, don't say shit like that. You can't just ignore this."
"I won't. You obviously know my birth name. Please get me a new birth certificate. Once you've gotten that birth certificate, I want you to file a name change for me. To me. To Noah Bradley Ryan. That's who I am; it's who I've been my entire life. I won't change that. It's my one constant."
He watches me as I speak and nods. "I can do that for you. I'll have their contact details ready for you whenever you decide to talk to them. "
I nod. "Have you been in contact with them?"
"No, I haven't said a word to them. I think they deserve to hear from me only when you are ready. You've been put through the wringer man, and now you've been left out to dry."
I know he's talking about her and it pisses me the fuck off. I don't give a shit if she tore what I had left of myself into miniscule pieces. No one will ever speak badly of her in my presence, even if she’s back with that douche.
"Don't talk shit about her, man. She doesn't deserve it. She followed her lifelong dream that I got in the way of. Just a pawn in one hell of a chess game."
"I'm sorry. Look, there'll be others. Trust me. Are you into redheads? I’ve got this girl’s number who would be great for you…" He stands up and downs his beer.
I just shake my head no. He nods and sets his empty bottle down. "I'll let you know when I finish getting your birth certificate and name changed." He starts to walk back toward the door but stops and turns back to me. "Don't you want to know your birth name?"
"If I know all of it, my ass will willingly go look up who I am and who my parents are. Give me my first name. I'll deal with this in stages."
He nods and smiles a little. "Jorden."
I laugh once and shake my head. Take a drink. "Nope. That doesn't work for me."
He laughs with me. "Thanks for the cold brew. I'll be in touch."
"Later." I stay seated while he shows himself out. There’s no damned point in getting up.
A FEW HOURS after Joel leaves, my apartment is clean and I’m on my way out the door for the first time. There’s a package on my doorstep and I assume it’s my protein-shake powder for after a workout. I put the box inside and walk downstairs, stopping at my mailbox. It’s overflowing with random flyers and advertisements. There’s one letter in the box addressed to me without a return address on it.
Sliding my finger under the edge and ripping open the top of the envelope, I pull out a letter and my eyes scan the unfamiliar, elegant, handwriting. As soon as I start to read, my heart slams against my rib cage and I sit down slowly on a nearby step. It's from her. I can't focus long enough to read it from beginning to end. My eyes keep picking out random words. "I'm sorry...not me...lead you on." Finally I go back to the beginning and read.
Noah,
I hope you're doing well. I know I owe you an apology and much, much more. I'm sorry for leaving the way I did. I'm sure you don't want to see this, but I think of you daily. You can't meet someone like you and just forget that special person. I know you must hate me for what I did and I don't blame you. I don't deserve you and I won't forget you. I couldn't answer your calls or texts because if I did, I wouldn't have been able to leave. I know you'll find someone who'll treat you the way you deserve. It's just not me.
I feel like I owe you an explanation as well. I did not intend on getting close to you. I assumed, in the beginning, that what went on was just a fling. But you pulled me in and turned my life around. I don't regret anything—please don't think that. I just haven't allowed myself to get close to anyone since my parents died. I'm sorry. I just want you to know that I enjoyed every minute we spent
together. I wouldn't change a thing. I just pray I didn't lead you on. I'll miss you terribly. Good luck in everything you do.
XOXO Heather
I have to read the letter a few more times before I am able to wrap my head around exactly what she is saying. I realize the point of the letter was to apologize for leaving me, but I don't understand why she'd go out of her way to write me a letter like this if it were that easy for her to leave.
In the back of my mind, I find myself wondering if she's left- or right-handed. That's something I should have found out in the beginning. Did we start this relationship off the wrong way? Did she need something more and I just didn't give it to her?
I doubt I’ll ever find out if I just sit here on my ass and not do anything about it. I look at the letter in my hands again and grab my phone from my pocket. I search for a number and when I find it, I hit dial. It rings a few too many times and I don’t think anyone is going to answer, until I hear a voice on the other end.
“Hello?” She sounds winded.
“Dani? Dani Lane? This is Noah. Do you have a couple of minutes to talk?”
“Noah? Sure! Give me one second. Brannon and I are running around naked.”
Oh fuck me, that is too much information. I squeeze my eyes shut and run a hand over my face while I wait for her to come back from whatever the hell she is doing.
“Okay, I’m back. What’s up? Can you not get hold of Heather? She said she was getting an English number today.”
Shit. I guess Heather hasn't even told her sister? Well, this should be a fun conversation. "Uh, Dani, your sister left me. She hasn't spoken to me since the day after Valentine’s."
There’s a brief period of silence before she says anything. “Oh. Noah, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. She tends not to share things with me that she’s still struggling with. I think she’s too proud to be emotionally unstable.”
“Too proud? I thought you two were really close?”
“We are, but she likes to keep to herself, especially if she feels like she is going to be judged for something. Then she just doesn’t tell me until it’s over with and all of her feelings toward whatever it is—or was—are resolved.”
I frown as I listen to her. “I didn’t know that about her. I don’t even know if she’s left- or right-handed. Fuck, I should have treated her better. Maybe we wouldn’t be fucking up each other’s lives if I made her want to stay with me. I tried, Dani. I tried so damn hard.” There’s emotion in my voice so I refrain from speaking another word.
“She’s left-handed,” Dani says softly. “And I don’t think you were bad for each other. I haven’t seen my sister that comfortable around anyone before. Maybe she got scared…I’m not sure.”
Scared? I scared her off? Just my fucking luck. “Thank you. Dani, I have a favor to ask.”
"Of course, what's the favor?" Her voice is soft and I think there's pity behind it. Fuck, I hate for anyone to feel pity for me but at this point, I'll do anything to get her back.
“I don’t know where she’s staying, what her new number is, where the ballet school is located, or anything. I’m going to get her back. I didn’t chase after her when she left me. That solely is the biggest mistake I have made…the worst decision of my life. But talking to you now and reading a letter she just sent…I know she’s still mine. I’ve chased her to New York, and I’ll chase her all around the globe before I give up.”
"Awww, Noah! That is so amazing. Yes, I’ll help you." I can hear her clapping excitedly on the other end and I have to smirk. She's just like Heather in so many ways. Fuck, I miss her.
“Great, thanks. Let me get inside so I can get a pen and paper. I need to write this shit down.” I get up and haul ass up the stairs, taking two steps at once before I get to my apartment and unlock the door. I scramble for paper and pen before Dani changes her mind about helping me.
I pull out a piece of paper from under a week’s worth of mail and flip it over. I’m about to take pen to page, but the words, ‘You’ll always be mine,’ in Heather’s handwriting stop me.
My heart is aching in my throat when I answer her little written plea out loud. “Always, baby.”
“What was that?” Dani’s voice breaks up my thoughts of her.
“Uh, nothing.” I grab another sheet of paper, deciding not to ruin this one. “Okay, I’m good: go ahead.”
She gives me her new address and promises to call me with her new number when Heather gives it to her.
“I owe you one. Thank you!”
“It’s not a problem. You seem to know what my sister needs more than she knows what she wants. She deserves you, Noah. You make her happy. So thank you. I won’t let her know you’re sneaking around.”
“I just hope I still have a chance. I have to make a few more phone calls. I’ll let you know when I leave. Thank you, again,” I say as I open my laptop and search diligently for a flight. Thank fuck that Mae had all of those assets in my name; it’s enough to hold me over for a year.
“Bye, Noah. Good luck!”
“Bye.” I hang up and call Joel.
I have a huge favor to ask him, and right now I’d pay any amount of money to get this right. I let her slip through my fingers once and now I’m going to fight for her like no one has ever fought for her before.
She’s all I have left to fight for.
She’s all I want.
All I need.
My ballerina.
Joel answers on the fifth ring. “Hey man, did I forget something at your place?”
“Hi. No. Listen, I need a passport and I need it fast. I just booked a flight to London a week from today. I don’t give a fuck what name it’s in. Just get it to me.”
“London, huh? I’ll see what I can do. I just got off the phone with your attorney. He has your birth certificate and is overnighting it to me as we speak.”
“That’s great. Thank you. I’ll pay whatever it is I need to pay. I just need to get to London. Yesterday.”
“I’ll have it done. You’ll see me when I have the passport in hand.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
We hang up and I start pacing the inside of my apartment before sitting back down after a while at my laptop and pulling up Heather’s address on maps online. She’s right in central London and I’m ready to be there. I’m ready to show her that I’m worthy enough for her, and that she doesn’t have to send me an apology letter. I just want her. I accept the person she is and I don’t plan on changing any of it. I just care enough to fight for something—someone— I want.
She’s someone I never saw myself with, but now I can’t see myself without her. I want more out of this damn life I’ve been living. I’m on the hunt for who I am, and I can’t find that without her. She’s become my wall: she stabilizes me when I need her and right now I’m walking on a tightrope, trying my damnedest to balance, but I know I can’t keep that balance for too much longer. I need her there to lean on.
I’ve never been afraid to lose what I need to lose in order to better myself, but this, this life without her is not going to better me. I’m going to invest in the person I trust the most, the person I need to be with the most.
I’ll make her mine again, and I’m not letting go.
I can and I will.
No excuses.
I’m fucking coming for you, ballerina.
Heather
WE ARE WHO we choose to be and Alexis is the worst possible person I know.
I’m disciplined. I’m strong. Ballet is who I am, and I don’t have a backup plan.
I’ve been part of the Royal Ballet for just over two weeks now and I can’t stand her. She’s always pointing out the tiniest of mistakes I make, making my life a living hell. She reminds me of Noah daily, now that she knows we’re no longer together.
“Heather, we’re all supposed to wear pink pointe shoes today, not those ugly things you have on!” she calls out when I walk into the ballet house.
“Oh? Are you sure
you’re not just jealous of my custom pointe shoes?” I say over my shoulder as I walk past her. All ballerinas know that pointe shoes are the real high heels. They are beyond compare.
“Bitch. No wonder Noah dumped your skinny ass!”
I choose to ignore her as I walk into the studio on my own and turn the music on to start practicing my routine. It’s a Saturday and only the extremely dedicated dancers are in the ballet house today, which makes me wonder why she’s here.
It takes me thirty minutes to warm up before I start running through my routine. My choreography, ironically, is about not waiting for the storm to pass, but instead to embrace it and dance in the rain. My mind is set in my choreography as I repeat my inner monologue.
Long neck.
Shoulder back.
Elbows up.
Arms out.
Ribs in.
Stomach in.
Butt tucked.
Stretch thighs.
Point toes.
Relevé.
Thumbs in.
Reach. Breathe. Extend.
Square hips.
Energy and smile!
I’m so lost in my dance that I don’t notice the door open and a second body walks into the room until she speaks. “Don’t sickle,” she yells out and I almost fall out of my fouetté en tournant.
I turn in the direction the voice is coming from, only to find Alexis. “What are you doing in here? You know this is a private room.”
“I wanted to talk to you. Or are you too high-ranked to say a word to me?”
“What would I have to say to you, Alexis? You’re rude and ignorant. I don’t need you in this studio. Please feel free to show yourself out.” I start counting and begin to dance again.
“Don’t be a bitch, Heather.”
I stop and walk over to my music, turning it off and staring at her. “Excuse me?”
She crosses her arms and smirks.
I swear I want to smack it right off her face.
