One Perfect Pirouette

by Sherryl Clark

  ‘Where’s the waiting room here?’ was all Mum said and when the nurse showed us to a room at the end of the corridor, we filed in and sat down again. Mum went to the toilet and came back with her face damp and her eyes shadowed. ‘I think you two should go home and get some sleep. I’ll stay with your dad, just in case – he wakes up.’

  ‘I’m not going home,’ said Orrin.

  ‘Me neither,’ I added.

  Mum hugged us both. ‘Better get comfortable on these chairs then.’ She took out her mobile phone. ‘It’s very late, but I think I’d better ring Tony and let him know what’s happening.’

  From Mum’s end of the call, I worked out that she’d already rung Uncle Tony earlier, and that he and Aunty Sue and Tam were still up, waiting to hear from her.

  ‘Yes, if you want to come down, that would be great, Tony,’ said Mum. ‘Yes, bring Tam, please.’ She talked to Tam for a couple of minutes, telling him about Dad, and then said goodbye and pressed the Off button, sighing. ‘I feel better now. They’ll be here by eight in the morning, he said. I did want him to bring Tam, more than anything.’

  I hadn’t even thought about Tam! My brain had been focused on the hospital and Dad, and watching that long corridor, waiting for someone to come and tell us the news. What would Tam say? Would he want to come back to Melbourne now because of Dad? It seemed like he’d been gone for months, but it was only a few weeks. I wondered what it had been like for him, going back to his old school. Mum had been calling him several times a week and once or twice I’d talked to him, but he wasn’t into conversation much, so after a few grunts, I ended up handing the phone back to Mum.

  Again, we sat in the uncomfortable chairs and stared at the floor and ceiling, and Mum leafed through another pile of old magazines. ‘Are you going to stay awake all night, Mum?’ I said.

  ‘No, I’ll try and sleep soon, even though these chairs will probably cripple me for life. Why don’t you lie down? You’ll fit on them better than either of us.’

  ‘Okay.’ I stretched out across three chairs, trying to ignore the gaps and the bits digging into me. Everything was quiet, except for the hum of airconditioning and faint beeping sounds from the rooms. My eyes closed and I slept, but the chairs and Mum and Orrin talking kept waking me up, then I dipped into black depths and didn’t hear another thing.

  My dreams were all jumbled up, with Ricky and Ms Ellergren dancing around me, and Mimi playing the piano. Lucy and Jade were reading a huge book with pictures in it that they wouldn’t show me, then suddenly I was in a hospital bed like Dad, with my whole body wrapped in bandages so I couldn’t move. I knew that I wanted to dance, but a nurse kept pushing me back on the bed and Ms Ellergren stood by the door, watching a big clock. I couldn’t see the time on it, because her head was in the way. Then she said, ‘Too late, you’re out,’ and disappeared.

  I woke with a start and waved my arms around wildly, feeling as if I was about to fall off the narrow chairs. The air conditioning had got colder and I had goosebumps all over me. What had that dream been about? An awful feeling of dread curdled in my stomach and I felt like my sandwich was about to come up again. The clock above the doorway read 3:45, and outside it was still pitch black. Nowhere near dawn. I needed to go to the toilet and stood up slowly, unbending all the kinks from my body.

  Mum and Orrin were both asleep, with their heads back and mouths open. Orrin was snoring lightly and Mum looked really uncomfortable. I supposed they were both like me – so tired that they slept anyway. I wandered down the corridor and found the toilets at the other end. I was too wide awake now, so I washed my face and arms and drank some water, still thinking about the dream.

  Then it hit me. It was Tuesday. Today was class day, the last one before we went for our auditions. A really important class, Ms Ellergren had said. There was no way I could go and I knew I wouldn’t be going to school either. How could I, with Dad lying here, nearly dead? What would we do if he died? I looked at myself in the mirror and my face said it all. I looked like a ghoul, with big black holes for eyes and white skin. Even my mouth was white. A terrible ache grew in my throat and I wanted to cry but the tears wouldn’t come. Instead the ache grew bigger until I thought it was going to choke me, or my chest was going to split open.

  Oh Dad, please don’t die, I begged, please! I couldn’t imagine our lives without him. His big laugh, his capable hands fixing things for us, his arms hugging Mum, hugging me, the way he was always there when we needed something, his quiet voice that calmed me down, his faith in our talents, his hard work –

  I ran out of the bathroom and down the corridor, searching for his room. There – but the door was closed. I peered in through the glass but there was no one inside, just Dad, lying with his eyes closed and the machines blinking and beeping around him. The nurses must be with other people. I turned the handle as quietly as I could until it clicked, pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it behind me.

  The room smelled of laundry detergent and disinfectant, of strange medicinal smells and faint sweat. Dad seemed to be hardly breathing, but I could hear the gentle whoosh of his air machine, pushing air into him through a plastic thing in his nose. The big bag of clear stuff on the stand next to his bed dripped liquid into him through another tube taped to his arm. There was only one chair in the room, in a corner, and I lifted it over to his bed, sitting close enough so I could touch his hand. He was so still that if it wasn’t for the air sound, I might’ve thought he was dead, but when I looked closely, I could see his chest rising just a tiny bit and relief rushed through me. He really was alive! And when I put my hands over his hand, it was warm and the hairs stuck up on it just like they always did.

  I realised he wouldn’t know I was there, but I felt a million times better being able to touch him and know that, so far, he was holding his own. I wanted to tell him lots of things, but if he couldn’t hear me, what was the point? Somehow, it didn’t seem to matter. Then again, maybe he could hear me. I’d read that people in comas could hear what was being said. So I knew I had to try.

  chapter 23

  I kept holding Dad’s hand and watched his still face for any sign that he knew I was there, beside him. ‘Hi, Dad,’ I whispered. ‘It’s me, Brynna. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. Mum’s here and so’s Orrin, and Tam’s coming soon, too.’

  Whoosh, whoosh, beep, beep.

  Then it spilt out of me. ‘I had a bad dream, Dad. I know you always said bad dreams don’t mean anything, it’s just your brain getting rid of rubbish, but this one was real. It had Ms Ellergren in it and she was really mad at me.’ I swallowed hard. ‘I’m not going to do the audition, Dad. I just can’t, not now. I mean, I know I was feeling really down about it before and thinking I’d fail, but it’s not that. Truly, it’s not. I’m not a quitter – you know I’m not. But this is different. You’re more important than anything. I’d give it all up so you’d get better. Not that I think giving up ballet would save your life or anything.’

  Whoosh, beep, whoosh, beep.

  ‘But that’s our family, isn’t it? We do stuff for each other, like you and Mum moving down here so I could do ballet. And now this has happened and you’re not going anywhere for a while, so I’ve got to help Mum now.’ Tears rolled down my face and dripped onto the white cotton bedcover. I didn’t want to let go of Dad’s hand. ‘I’ll still keep going on Saturdays, because I think we can work that out and it won’t matter if I miss a few, but I know the Ballet School isn’t going to be possible now, and I can apply again next year. They’ll understand.

  ‘So don’t you worry, Dad. We want you to get better, without worrying about stuff for us. We’ll manage, but we need you to come back, Dad, we need you to be our dad. That’s more important than anything. You promise?’

  I wished that his hand would move, or that his eyes would open. I wished that he’d say, ‘That’s not a problem, Brynna, I’ll be out of here today and it’ll all be back to normal.’ But I knew he couldn’t.


  I lay my head down on the bedcover, my hands still over his, and closed my eyes. I wasn’t tired, I just wanted to stay there and rest a bit longer.

  ‘Brynna. Brynna.’ A hand shook my shoulder.

  ‘Go away. It’s not school today.’ My brain slowly woke up and told me I wasn’t in my bed at home and I jerked upright. ‘What!’

  Mum bent over me. ‘How long have you been in here?’

  ‘I dunno. What’s the time?’

  ‘It’s after eight. Tam’s here and your Uncle Tony.’

  ‘Are they coming in to see Dad?’ I asked. Dad! I glanced at the bed, but he still lay there, unmoving.

  ‘They might be allowed in for a couple of minutes. Come on, the nurse wants us out of here. They need to do checks on your dad now.’

  I followed her out and the nurse patted my shoulder. She didn’t seem to mind that I’d been in there so long. In the waiting room, Tam and Uncle Tony stood by the window, their faces drawn with worry. Orrin sat in a lounge chair, drinking coffee from a paper cup and screwing up his nose at the taste. I hugged Tam and Uncle Tony and they both held on for a long time.

  ‘Sitting with your dad, were you?’ Uncle Tony said, sniffing.

  ‘Yeah. But he’s still unconscious.’

  ‘What’s the latest then?’ he asked Mum.

  ‘The same. They’re waiting and watching. Either this afternoon or tomorrow, he’ll have a CT scan on his brain. They said if something is happening in there, it’ll take a day or two to show up.’ She sighed. ‘So far, it’s a skull fracture. Hopefully, nothing else will go wrong inside his head.’

  Uncle Tony winced. ‘Should you be telling the kids this?’

  ‘We all want to know exactly what’s happening,’ Orrin said. ‘It’s not knowing that sends you psycho.’

  ‘What about the other injuries?’ said Uncle Tony.

  There were more?

  ‘Broken arm, cracked ribs, a neck injury that they can’t do anything about right now apart from keeping him in one place and seeing how it goes.’ Mum sat down suddenly as if her legs had given way. ‘At least he’s alive. That other poor man –’

  My tummy gurgled so loudly that everyone heard it and swung around. My face burned, but Mum smiled. ‘Life,’ she said. ‘You’re right, Brynna. We’ve got to eat, breathe, do our best.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said.

  ‘It’s breakfast time,’ she said. ‘Your tummy’s just reminding you of what we’d forgotten. Being in this place is like living in another time zone. Tony, they said they’ll let you and Tam in for a couple of minutes, but not yet. Why don’t we go and get something to eat, and come back in a while.’

  So we all piled into the lift and ate scrambled eggs and toast and coffee in the cafe downstairs. Even Tam was smiling a bit, once his stomach was full. When we went back up to the ICU, the others were allowed quick visits to Dad, but I stayed outside. I could see through the window that he was the same as before.

  Mum decided we should go home and have showers and get changed, then she and Uncle Tony went back to the hospital for a couple of hours. Tam, Orrin and I tried to watch TV, but there was nothing on worth watching and we were sick of all our DVDs. Orrin went for a run and I thought about some ballet exercises, but I couldn’t bring myself to even get my shoes out.

  How would I let Ms Ellergren know I couldn’t do the class? I could call her, but I couldn’t think how to explain it in a way she’d understand. But if I went to the studio, I’d see the other girls and that’d make it so hard to pull out. It was after three and I had to decide what to do or it’d be too late for anything. Mum had rung from the hospital to say Dad wasn’t having his scan till five o’clock, so she was staying until after it was done.

  I rang Ms Ellergren’s number, but no one answered and she didn’t have voicemail – not that I would have left a message anyway. That would really have sounded like I didn’t care. I had to go to the studio. If I talked to her early, I could get out of there before anyone arrived.

  Orrin came in from his run, puffing and red-faced. I explained where I was going. ‘Does Mum know?’ he said.

  ‘Where I’m going? No, I only decided just now.’

  ‘No – does she know you’re not doing the class?’

  ‘I can’t go to class with all this happening. Everything’s changed.’ I searched for my backpack. ‘Have you got any money? I need a ticket for the bus.’

  ‘But we organised everything so you could do this special class. You can’t chuck it in. What about the audition?’

  I couldn’t bear to think about that. The class was hard enough. I stared at the label on my backpack until I’d forced the threatening tears away. ‘Mum needs our help. We don’t know what’s going to happen with Dad. Even when he comes out of hospital, he won’t be able to go back to work, not for ages.’

  ‘But –’ He looked around as if hoping Mum would materialise and stop me.

  ‘There’s no point going to the class and the audition isn’t going to happen. Mum and Dad’ll need the fee money they’re going to save. Even with a bursary, we can’t afford the Ballet School. We might even have to go back to Bendigo.’ With my jaw set, I held out my hand. ‘Money? Please?’

  He sighed. ‘I think you’re making a big mistake. You should talk to Mum first.’

  ‘I can’t. The last class is tonight and I’ll probably be back at the hospital, like you.’ I took the five-dollar note he gave me. ‘I couldn’t dance properly anyway, not with Dad lying in that bed, all bandaged up.’

  ‘Fine, then.’ He held up his hands. ‘But you can explain to Mum when she gets home.’

  I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t. My throat ached and I wanted to get out of the house as fast as I could. Besides, I wasn’t going to tell Mum anything. She had enough to worry about. I was taking one of the worries off her plate.

  The bus dropped me in the street next to the studio and by the time I walked there, it was after four-thirty and the door was open. Hearing the faint tinkle of the piano, I slipped inside and gazed at all the ballet photos for a few minutes. One day that would be me, but not right now. I crossed the foyer and pulled open the studio door. Inside, Ms Ellergren was leaning over the piano, talking to Mimi.

  ‘We’ll start with that one, I think, and try the Mozart second' she said. As I approached, she turned and smiled. ‘Brynna, you’re nice and early.’

  ‘Um – I’m not here for the class, Ms Ellergren.’ Her smile flipped over into a frown and my feet faltered, then I kept moving and came to a stop in front of her. ‘I can’t do the class. I’m very sorry. I really wanted to but – my dad –’ I swallowed hard and had to take a couple of breaths. ‘Dad had an accident at work and Mum’s at the hospital and I can’t do the audition on Friday either. Things at home just aren’t – right.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Her voice was gentle. ‘Tonight’s class is not a problem. And your father might be much better by Friday.’

  I shook my head. ‘It’s changed everything. It’s the money, too, that’s part of it, but if Dad – when Dad can come home, he’ll need looking after and Mum can’t do everything on her own. The Ballet School program won’t be possible.’

  ‘Surely you can still audition?’ She looked as sad as I felt.

  ‘No. Can you please let them know? I can’t – I don’t know who to call.’ I stared down at the floor, trying not to cry. What good did tears do? They didn’t help. ‘I’m sorry I let you down. I think I can still come to class on Saturdays, if that’s all right.’

  ‘Of course it is. And I’m sure we can still work something out. You’re a very talented dancer, Brynna. I’ll talk to your mother in a few days, when things have improved, and –’

  ‘No! It’ll be fine. Thank you. Please call the School for me. That’s all.’ I turned and ran from the studio, before I exploded into a million tiny pieces. At the outer door, Stephanie was just coming in, her fancy white and pink ballet bag over her shoulder. I pushed past her, head down, wanting to
get as far away as I possibly could from everything that reminded me of ballet and what I’d just given up.

  But Stephanie couldn’t resist opening her big mouth. ‘You’d better not miss the last class,’ she called after me. ‘You need all the help you can get.’

  I skidded to a stop and swung around. ‘You’re the one who needs help. Someone should choreograph a nasty ballet just for you.’

  As she gaped like a stunned goldfish, I shoved at the outer door and walked into the dull, grey afternoon.

  chapter 24

  I stood at the bus stop and couldn’t help smiling at the way I’d wiped the gloating expression off Stephanie’s face. That was the only good thing that had happened all day. Then I thought about Dad lying in the bed like a mummy and realised I’d just given up the audition I’d worked towards for years, and it felt like my heart was being squeezed inside my chest. When the bus came, I could hardly find the energy to climb up the steps and find a seat.

  Mum still wasn’t home when I got back, so I peeled a heap of potatoes and put them on to cook. There was cold sliced ham in the fridge and frozen peas. That’d have to do. I had no idea what time Mum and Uncle Tony would be home.

  Tam slouched into the kitchen. ‘Are you cooking?’

  ‘Not really.’ I told him what there was to eat. ‘Yuck,’ he said. ‘Can’t we get pizza?’

  ‘No, we can’t,’ Orrin said, coming in behind him. ‘You can have ham sandwiches if you don’t want vegies.’

  Just as the potatoes boiled, Mum and Uncle Tony came in, carrying a big parcel of fish and chips. Mum turned off the boiling pot and we all sat round the table, stuffing our faces. Mum said the scan on Dad’s head hadn’t shown anything and she and Uncle Tony talked about the words the doctors used – prognosis fairly good, but we won’t know more until he regains consciousness. Then they added other doctor-type words that made it all sound even worse and I stopped listening. My eyes wanted to close and I wished it was bedtime already.