Watch Me Fall

by Nora Flite

  Cally sat up on her bed with a laugh. “You need to stop bringing me a gift every day like this.”

  Waving a hand, I sat on the edge of the mattress. “Not every day.”

  “Every other day, then.”

  Blushing, I puffed my lips and made a terrible noise. “Aha, uh, I haven't been counting. Anyway, how are you feeling?”

  She opened the ribbon on the macaroons. “Really good, honestly. Being back here is helping me more than the hospital was.” Cally had returned to the apartment after she insisted she not go back to London. She'd paid for the semesters, for her share of the rooms, and if dancing was off the table she still wanted to be here.

  It was only her, Bronta, and me. Valerie had packed her things the day after our fight, taking up residence in a new apartment all to herself. I thought Mr. Vince would talk to me about it, but he never said a word. I guessed Valerie hadn't mentioned our altercation to anyone.

  That was fine with me.

  “And you?” she mused, tilting her head. “How have you been?”

  I should let her know. Kicking my feet, I shrugged. “In theory, I'm fine. Potentially... uh. Okay.” I inched closer to her, lowering my tone. “Carter is going to let everyone know in class tomorrow. We're going to be putting on a performance at the Westward Theater.”

  Her mouth went slack. “Oh. That's exciting.”

  Grimacing, I pressed on. “It's not entirely good news. Don't say anything—I don't want to panic anyone—but it's really important we do well. Rosella Ballet is failing, no one is applying anymore. If our show doesn't stand out, impress some people, the studio is shutting down.”

  Blinking, Cally was caught off guard. “What? That's awful!”

  “It is,” I agreed. I moved forward with my plan, trying not to stumble on my words. “I was going to see if you wanted to come and help.”

  “Help how? I can barely bend at the waist. I can't perform any ballet.”

  “Correcting people and pointing out their mistakes doesn't require any bending,” I said.

  Her face lit up, taking some of the guilt off of me. She plucked out a green macaroon and offered it. “I can do that. Thanks for asking me to get involved.” Touching her belly, Cally's smile softened. “It means a lot, you know? After everything I've gone through... to have this happen so close to the finish...” Her laugh was cynical. “Life is shitty sometimes.”

  My gaze moved to where she was holding herself. It wasn't where her scar from the emergency surgery was. “Can I ask you something?”

  Instantly she was wary. “What is it?”

  I held the macaroon, turned it but didn't taste it. “You were clearly suffering before I took you to the hospital. Why didn't you say anything?”

  Cally was toying with the edge of the box. “I was scared that this would happen.” She waved at herself in the bed. “I was feeling sick for days, Noel.”

  Days? I tried to picture her in ballet class. Had she been enduring a swelling infection that whole time, and I hadn't noticed? She's incredibly tough. “If you went to the doctor, they could have helped before it got this far.”

  Cally's lips puckered sourly. “I was praying 'it' was nothing. I was just so close... I didn't want my dreams taken away from me again.”

  Her words on the night she was shivering and sobbing, they tore into my mind. 'Don't take her,' she'd begged. The back of my neck was chilly from my nerves. I had a burst of intuition and couldn't force myself to stay quiet. “Cally,” I croaked. Fuck, my mouth was dry. “You've... had this happen before, haven't you?”

  So much raw fear glowed on her pale skin. “How do you know that?” In the heavy stretch of air, she sat up; ignored the macaroon package as it fell to the floor. “Oh God, who told you?”

  I tried to soothe her with my lifted hands. “You, Cally. You told me.” She shook her head, eyes stretched to the brink. “I don't know the details. I'm only guessing! When I found you that night, you were babbling and... you said some things. That's all.”

  The blonde woman collapsed like her bones had run away from her. It took her a second to speak. “What did I say. Tell me exactly.”

  My palms were slippery. “I don't know. Something about not taking her away from you. You kept begging. I figured, with how you said the thing just now about your dreams being taken away again that... Are you going to throw up?”

  Cally was shaking, squeezing her blankets. “No. I'll be fine, just—no one has talked to me about that in ages.”

  I was bending close, a vague ringing in my ears. “You don't have to tell me. I swear, I don't really know anything. You were only rambling.”

  “Shh, shh,” she said gently. “Noel, let me explain it.” That frown was mild. “After what you did for me in the Catacombs, and getting me to a doctor in time, you deserve some history.”

  I didn't feel like I deserved anything. But, Cally wanted whatever this baggage was off of her chest. After telling Carter about my mom... I knew the feeling.

  “I know you heard the rumors,” she mumbled. “My age, that I'm twenty-one and older than the rest of you here.” Not waiting for me to respond, Cally breathed out in a big blast of air. “When I was nineteen, my boyfriend got me pregnant.”

  My jaw hung open. That was not what I had expected her to say.

  Pushing hair from her eyes, Cally hesitated. “We'd been dating for a year. Having a baby wasn't my plan, but when I got the news... I figured I could always become a ballet instructor after she was born. I don't know. I guess it just felt right.” Her smile was tugging downwards at the corners. “I wish he had felt the same.”

  Digging my nails into my knees, I held my breath. “What happened?”

  She looked at me; looked away fast. “My boyfriend wanted me to get an abortion. I refused. I was hurt by his suggestion, but if it meant being a single mom, I was willing.” She set her head on the pillow, watched the ceiling as if her memories were a movie playing on it. “I didn't talk to him for five months, he just stormed out and that was it. I paid the rent, kept the apartment we had shared. It never occurred to me to change the locks. That was how he got inside that night.”

  Every tiny hair became a wasp sting. “He broke in? Why?”

  “I don't think he had a real plan.” Her hand wandered to her stomach, rubbing an invisible bump. “We started yelling. Then he started hitting me. I don't remember much of it... just him kicking, and me telling him to please stop.”

  'Please please please don't do this don't take her from me you can't stop stop stop stop.' Now I was ready to be sick. “Cally... no. God, please tell me this has a happy ending.”

  Cally reached out for me, easing me beside her on the bed. She was admitting this terrible story to me, then trying to comfort me through it. I knew I should have been the one making her feel better. But I didn't resist her strong arms.

  “I woke up in one of the basement wall cupboards,” she whispered into my hair. “It was so dark, and I was in so much pain...”

  “The Catacombs,” I blurted. “That was why you were so panicked.”

  Her sigh tickled my ear. “None of my therapists suggested I'd be scared of tight spaces, or darkness. I didn't know it'd mess with me, going down there. I just—I kept remembering that day, thinking about my little girl, and it just shattered me.”

  Wiping at my wet eyes, I fought for words. “How did anyone find you in the basement?”

  Her laughter was brittle. “My boyfriend wasn't too smart. I kicked out the thin panel between my locked cupboard and the next, crawled through and called for help. He'd already fled, I guess he hoped me and the baby would both die and he could avoid the blame.”

  “Tell me he's in jail.”

  “Yes,” she said flatly. “Oh, yes. Life without parole. My recovery, dealing with the trial, everything threw my plans off. I had been out of ballet for over a year. I didn't know what to do with myself. My family stopped talking to me—they were never good, handling my depression. I had nothing and no one wan
ted me... until Rosella.”

  And now it's happened again. She won't be able to dance with us, she won't have her abilities recognized. Cally felt me shudder. She hugged me closer, I shifted so I could return the warm embrace. “I'm so sorry that happened to you, Cally. God, that's fucking awful.”

  “He didn't entirely get his way,” she whispered. “Remember? Only one of us died.”

  I finally understood Cally. The bitter girl who said you couldn't have both dreams and love at the same time.

  One or the other, she'd told me. You had to choose.

  Cally had been robbed of both.

  ****

  The Westward Theater was gorgeous. All wood carvings and gold paint, the seats rich maroon. I pictured the place packed with people, lights casting contrasting shadows on the dancers. It was a real dream becoming solid.

  Standing there with Bronta and Cally at the top of the aisle, I gawked at the stage and willed the moment to go on forever.

  “Come on,” Bronta said, breaking the silence. “I want to go stand up there.”

  “Slow down,” Cally complained. If you hadn't known her before, you'd never guess she was walking any different. I saw it, though; her deliberate steps that carried her carefully down the aisle slope. In the week since she'd told me about her traumatic past, she'd begun forcing herself out of the apartment more. She couldn't move too quickly, but she wasn't bedridden for stretches of the day either.

  I'd suspected she could have been walking around sooner than she had. The weight of her future was weighing her down under the blankets. But now, knowing she was going to help with the performance, Cally looked... brighter.

  Motivated.

  In contrast, ever since we'd entered the theater, Carter looked drained. There were specters in that man's eyes. He hovered around the edges of the room, pretending to study the size of it. That was why we were here so soon, with the show weeks away. Carter had told Mr. Vince that we should see the layout of the stage to better prepare for what we would be doing. The director had agreed, and Carter had seemed pleased.

  Until we had stepped through and seen the grand interior.

  Climbing the steps up to the platform, I squinted at Carter's milky complexion. “Hey,” I said, wandering towards him. He was gazing blankly up at the curtains on the sides. “You feeling alright?”

  “Yes.” It was a knee-jerk response. Rolling his attention down to me, Carter blinked. “Everything is fine. Go warm up with the others, I'd like to see how many split leaps you can do across this stage.”

  He was all business, but I wasn't convince. Not wanting to argue, I joined my classmates in some quick stretches. Bronta was bouncing on her toes; more from excitement than to prepare her ligaments.

  Cally sat on the floor, already beginning her foray into instructing. “Warm your shoulders up more, Jerome,” she said to one of the boys. He heard the unbending ruler in her tone and complied. There was a tangible energy in the air. We knew this was a big deal, the chance to perform in a real theater, in front of real people who could give any or all of us a future in ballet.

  Vince had explained he'd reach out to other studios, talk to who he knew. If he could use his networking and charm, he was sure he'd get some important people in the seats below us.

  The anticipation of what waited for us made the first rehearsal fly by.

  “Longer lines!” Carter growled, stalking along the back wall. “All of you need to push harder, get your body to follow where your nose is going!” Slap slap slap, he kept colliding the back of his hand with the palm of the other.

  He was more worked up than I'd seen him in a while. Carter's was straining, like the venom in his throat was ready to spew onto the guys. I don't know what possessed me, but I stepped forward, away from the other girls. “Why don't you show them, Mr. Braeburn?”

  Carter locked up on the spot. “Excuse me?”

  I willed myself to not retreat. “Just show them the steps. They'll learn it faster.”

  The turmoil in his hazel eyes, I'd only seen it in the moments when we were alone. The times he'd alternated between inflicting pain, then wrenching away like he doubted what he was doing—or was about to do.

  I'd known there was something Carter kept locked tight. I thought of him as many things; intimidating, sensual, obsessive and determined. But right then, catching the hint of sweat on his throat, how his hands flexed at his sides, I saw something new.

  Inside of the abyss that was Carter Braeburn, there lived something... fragile.

  Is he scared? I couldn't unravel it. I'd seen the man dance, he moved with a strength any of us would beg to have. That's it, though. Carter is terrified. Biting the inside of my cheek, I fussed to find a way to take back my suggestion. Perhaps he had stage fright. I didn't know, but the cold grip of fear was coming off of him in waves.

  Cally stepped up next to me, her voice casual. She hadn't sensed what I had. “Noel is right. Mr. Braeburn, you should show them how you want it done.”

  The guys were nodding. Jerome scratched at his cropped red hair. “That'd help a lot. Go ahead Mr. Braeburn.” All of them shifted, making room for our instructor.

  Alone center stage, Carter was a stone. His tongue brushed his bottom lip. “You want me to show you.”

  “Yeah!” they all cheered. None of them noticed the sallowness of Carter's face.

  His stare shot to me, didn't move away. He was waiting for my answer. “Yes,” I pleaded.

  Inhaling until his chest was stretching, Carter closed his eyes. On his bloodless skin, those lashes were darker than a dead star. By the time he'd turned, crossed furthest from us to the opposite side, we'd gone still with expectancy. No one but me had felt the weird unease Carter was dowsed in.

  I had seen Carter dancing before. In class, he told us what to do, showed off a pose or a proper turn here and there. Never had he displayed his real skills for the group. That prize belonged to me alone, and even I had stolen it by ambushing him that first morning.

  I was ready to share Carter's movements with the world.

  He started with a bang; a cannon ball that meant to destroy. His limbs extended and reached so far I worried they'd shoot from the sockets. Carter was glorious in motion. He cut a swathe across the stage in a flurry of twirls, and like he never planned to stop, he circled and went back the way he'd come.

  In my ear, there was a collective gasp. Seeing their baffled expressions was tempting, but I refused to look away from Carter. I was praying he'd never stop. I'd starve and crumple right there on the floor, if it meant he would dance for infinity.

  As all good things go, he did end the show. A final jump, he landed in the center, finished with a smooth pirouette. Standing tall, his eyes went right to me. The centers were black lightning, his lips parted in quick breaths.

  God, my heart. He was sex on tall legs and I ached to feel his body heat on my chest. I reminded myself where we were. Now wasn't an appropriate time to jump into his arms and taste the excitement on his tongue.

  Carter swallowed, hard knob in his throat bobbing. “Do you see what I mean, now?”

  All the heads were bobbing; not just the boys, who the demonstration had been meant for.

  “Good. I—that's good.” He turned, started walking fast for the backstage. “Get water, take a break. We'll begin again in five.”

  Fingers brushed my elbow. “Noel,” Bronta whispered to me, “I think I understand why you like him now.”

  My cheeks were smoldering, but my smile burned brightest of all.

  Everyone milled around, some going outside to smoke, others just talking. I wanted to follow after Carter. Instead, I was treated to a sudden assault by my friends. Bronta hooked our elbows, led me to the furthest corner in the audience. Cally hurried to keep up.

  The tan girl spun me, put my back to a shadowed corner where no one else could overhear. “You need to ask him to perform with us,” Bronta said, holding me at a distance.

  My eyebrows arched up; I shot an acc
using glare at Cally. “You told her?”

  “Of course I did,” Cally sighed. “She deserved to know.”

  Bronta shook me until I looked back to her. “Noel! He's better than any of the other guys here! You want to save the studio, right?”

  “More than anything.” Gently, I pried her fingers off of me. With the wall at my back and the two of them in front, I felt ganged up on. “But Carter isn't in the program, he's the instructor.”

  Rolling her eyes, Cally scrunched her shoulders into her neck. “So what? This is about having a good show. You and him are amazing! If you're both performing, everyone will look better by default. Trust me, it's win win.”

  “It's win win!” Bronta agreed, nodding emphatically. The pair of them who, just months ago, had been unable to have a conversation without fighting... now they stood united. The time had flown by, our friendships forming so naturally. I couldn't hold back my grin. “What?” she asked, “why are you smiling?”

  Waving my hands, I laughed. “I'm just happy. Anyway, I'm all for the idea. I'm not sure Carter is going to feel the same.”

  Cally's pink pout was doubtful. “Why not?”

  His face, jittery and glistening with sweat, flitted in my memory. “Just a feeling I have.”

  “But you will ask him?” Bronta gave me her best smile.

  Exhaling through my nose, I gazed out across the plush seats. From where we were, the stage looked so small. Carter had returned, hovering around the portable barre we'd brought.

  “I'll do it. I'll ask him.” I'd seen his fear. It had been cloying in the seconds before his first leap. After that moment, though, he'd boiled with radiance.

  What was his answer going to be to my proposal?

  ****

  The theater emptied out. We'd stayed until six, the latest the owners would allow us to be in the building. I followed Carter, caught his eye and tried to communicate I wanted him to stay behind. Lingering on the corner of the large building, it was clear he was patiently waiting for me.

  Once the last student had vanished around the street, I scurried over to him. Leaning by his motorcycle, he hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. “Eager to get me alone?” he teased.