by Shenda Paul
5
I t’s three days to opening night, and my mood has moved beyond excitement. Today, I’m practically jumping out of my skin because, in a short while, I’m about to reunite with Mom and Peter.
I’ve missed them, Mom especially, and my friends, of course, but the last two months in Leipzig can only be described as incredible. I’ve enjoyed every minute—Miss Ingrid’s company and that of my fellow dancers, getting to know and spend time with Luke, and the dancing—that’s been and continues to be an unbelievable experience, a joy I’ll treasure for as long as I live. I still can’t believe my luck; each morning when I wake, I feel like pinching myself just to check that I’m really here.
Master Gustav has introduced innovative changes to the choreography, and we’ve been rehearsing relentlessly. He, Miss Karlin, and Miss Ingrid have worked us hard, but no one’s complained. We’ve readily accepted the sore feet and bone-deep tiredness at the end of each day and eagerly anticipated the next. The reward for each of us has been the part we’ve played, no matter how small, in melding a disparate group of performers into a cohesive dance company—one, ready to take on one of the most loved and demanding ballets.
The exactitude of Master Gustav and his assistants’ tutelage has resulted in every one of us—from principal dancers to the corp de ballet—being able to perform as if the movements had been infused into our very being. We don’t have to think or second-guess; we’re now able to totally surrender ourselves to the dance. I’ve never felt so alive and so, so in love with what I do. Miss Ingrid also seems reinvigorated. It’s as if she’s discovered a renewed zest for and love of ballet. Many nights after regular rehearsals, we’ve stayed behind to work for another hour or so. And, much to my delight, Luke chose to join us on many of those occasions.
He and I, despite our grueling schedules, have managed to spend a great deal of personal time together. He’s shown me around Leipzig, and we’ve eaten at many interesting, out of the way restaurants and cafés. We’ve kissed and made out in his room and mine, and despite his experience and obvious physical needs, Luke hasn’t pressured me into going further. I’m still too nervous and unsure of myself to take that momentous step.
Miss Ingrid’s been wonderfully supportive, giving us time to ourselves in the apartment, reminding me that I’m an adult, capable of making sound decisions. Her warnings have grown less frequent as she’s come to know Luke better. I think that, like me, she accepts that he has no intention of hurting or using me. Neither Luke nor I have mentioned the word girlfriend or boyfriend, but that relationship has been heavily implied. I don’t know what will happen once we leave Leipzig, but Luke’s mentioned trying to get a placement in New York or at another US dance company. He ’s said that, at the very least, he’d like us to be on the same continent.
As for me, I’ve decided that when I return to New York, I’ll have to sit down and discuss my future with Mom, Miss Ingrid, and ugh! Mr. Quandt. My scholarship with the Institute ends soon, and I feel more than ready to forge my own path. I hope to keep Miss Ingrid in my life as a mentor and friend, but I can’t wait to see the back of Dieter Quandt. Luke and I have tentatively agreed to wait for the outcome of that meeting before we decide which companies to approach.
In the meantime, he wants to meet Mom and Peter, so I plan on introducing him to them tomorrow evening. In return, he’s invited me to meet his parents when they arrive. He’s also asked me to travel home to England with him before flying home. I’m excited, but extremely nervous about meeting his family. We won’t be making any announcement about our relationship status, but I feel his invitations to meet them and to travel home with him says a lot.
Mandi agrees. When I first told her about Luke, she squealed into the phone, and her enthusiasm skyrocketed after learning about the invitation to accompany him home. Since then, she, Sammy, and Bron, have bombarded me with questions, sometimes, embarrassing ones because, despite their own advanced relationships and much more active sex lives, they seem to be living vicariously through mine.
For the first time since arriving in Leipzig, and anxious to spend as much time as possible with Mom and Peter, I find myself willing rehearsals to end. I’m thankful they’re winding down. Tomorrow will be our last full day, and the following day, the eve of opening night, we’ll have a two-hour session in the morning before being released to unwind before the big event. Excitement within the company is at an all-time high; so palpable, it feels like a separate entity entering and leaving the auditorium with us each day. It’s a simultaneously scary and reassuring emotion because it reminds us just how special what we’re doing is.
Miss Ingrid calls time, finally, and we move to the barre for our warm down routine. After, I hastily gather my things and race over to remind her I’ll be having dinner with my parents and promise to be home by ten-thirty. She hugs me and tells me to give Mom her best wishes and to say she’s looking forward to having dinner with them the following evening.
Luke approaches with his bag in hand and tells me he’ll accompany me to our apartment before going home. He waits until I’ve said goodbye to Adriana and a group fellow-dancers before he wraps his arm around my shoulders and leads us out onto the street.
At home, I run into my bedroom to change and return to the living room, wearing my black skinny jeans and a pale blue shirt. I’ve loosened my hair and tied it up in a high ponytail. “You look lovely,” he tells me and gets up to slowly back me up against the nearby wall, where he cups the back of my neck.
He lowers his head to kiss me, nipping at my bottom lip, and like Pavlov’s dog, programmed to respond, I open to him. His tongue swirls with mine, more and more insistently, and I feel his hard length as he presses his body into mine. I let out a tiny, involuntary moan, and he responds with a low grunt as he writhes against me. He peppers my throat with hot, open-mouthed kisses that electrify my skin. Heat pools in my belly and lower when, without stopping the sensuous roll of his hips, Luke lifts my leg to wrap around his waist. And then, just as sensation threatens to overwhelm me, he withdraws with a reluctant sigh. I’m left dazed and panting.
“Sorry,” he says, his voice husky, “I didn’t mean to maul you, but you’re just too enticing. You test my resolve like no one else, Angelique.”
“The feeling is entirely mutual,” I whisper. “I’m sorry; I’m just not …”
“Shhh, I know—I understand,” he stops my apology. “In your own time, beautiful; I’m not going anywhere,” he tells me and with a soft kiss on my mouth, steps back and discreetly adjusts himself.
I feel guilty, not quite sure what I’m waiting for. I like Luke a lot; I think I may be falling in love with him, and I know he likes me too. We could be really good together; after all, only another dancer would understand the kind of commitment our careers demand. A relationship with him would be perfect, and I want to make love with him—I want him to be my first. It just doesn’t feel like the right time.
“We should go, or you’ll be late. Let me see you to a taxi,” he says with a reassuring smile, a reminder of his affection and patience.
I make it to the gate with just five minutes to spare before Mom and Peter’s scheduled arrival time. About fifteen minutes later, when the board shows their flight as ‘Gelandet’, I’m practically jumping up and down.
Peter’s tall figure comes into sight first, and my eyes hungrily turn to his side, where Mom’s also anxiously scanning the area. I can tell the moment she spots me because her eyes light up, and her cheeks lift into a broad smile. She’s still extricating herself from Peter’s grip when I race forward and practically throw myself at her. It feels so good to be wrapped in her arms, and I’m instantly that little girl, needing a cuddle from her mommy, again.
“Angel, sweetie, you look so good.” Mom steps back to take me in. “And you look happy. I’m so glad; I worry about you.”
“I’m great, Mom, honestly. I’m just so happy you’re here,” I squeeze her shoulders tightly and then, still holding ont
o her, I turn greet Peter. “It’s wonderful to see you too,” I tell him.
“Hello, Angelique. You are looking good,” he says, kissing my cheek. Peter’s a year younger than Mom, and he’s a pretty fit guy, but he’s looking tired, more tired than I’d expect from his flight from Florida.
“You haven’t been working too hard to take this time off, have you?” I ask, unable to hide my concern.
“I’m fine, honey, just finalizing an important deal, that’s all. We’re just about there now, so I can spare the time. Besides, we wouldn’t have missed being here for the world. We can’t wait for tomorrow night, can we Grace?”
“Oh Angel, we’re so excited; I can’t believe you’re about to debut in Europe. Your Dad would be so proud,” Mom replies, her eyes dulled by sadness.
“I know, Mom, and I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately. I’ve almost felt him watching me dance at times.”
“I’m sure he is, A Stór. He promised he’d always be with you, remember?” I nod, swallowing hard to tamp down my rising emotion.
“Come on ladies, let’s find a cab. You two have a lot of catching up to do,” Peter astutely intervenes, saving us from publicly making fools of ourselves.
They’re staying at the Steigenberger Grandhotel, close to where we’ll be performing. It’s rather extravagant, and I comment on how nice it is as we enter the elevator. Peter tells me this trip is a bit of a second honeymoon, and I smile, as I watch Mom blush, and him kiss her on the forehead.
Later, while Peter works from the desk in the living room, I lie across their bed, watching Mom unpack. We chat incessantly, bringing each other up-to-date on all the news. Finally, when I think the time’s right, I clear my throat. “Mom, I’d like to introduce you and Peter to a friend tomorrow night,” I say nervously.
“I’m thrilled you’ve made friends, sweetie. I was so worried you’d be lonely; I mean, I know you’ve had Ingrid, but you need friends your age. What’s her name, and where’s she from?”
“Uhmm, she’s a he; and his name’s Luke. He’s English.”
“A boy? You’ve met a boy? You have a boyfriend, Angel?” Mom drops the dress she’d been holding onto the floor and rushes to my side. She looks at me with some concern, but I sense excitement too.
“He’s not a boy, Mom, he’s a man, and I like him. We’ve been dating, sort of, so I guess he’s my boyfriend.”
“A man? How old?”
“Luke’s twenty-two, and before you start worrying, I assure you, he’s a good person, and he’s kind to me. He likes me.”
“Angel, have you …” Mom actually blushes, and as soon as I realize what she’s asking, I turn an even deeper shade.
“No! Mom, we haven’t…. done that—yet,” I add nervously.
“Well, that’s good, sweetie. I know you’re grown up and traveling the world, but you’re still my little girl, and I don’t want you to get hurt. Just be careful, Angel.”
“I am, I will be, Mom, don’t worry,” I hurriedly say, anxious not to encourage any further talk about sex. You’ll like Luke; you’ll see.”
“I can’t wait to meet him,” she says, after studying me intently for a moment. With that awkward discussion safely out of the way, we’re back to talking easily. We enjoy our family dinner, the first in such a long time, before I reluctantly leave to get some sleep before our final full day of rehearsals.
I wake with an overwhelming feeling of anticipation. “Just two days before opening night” I feel like shouting from the rooftops. Today, the entire company, including the orchestra, wardrobe, stagehands, everyone, will have a final run-through to ensure their cog in the production machine is in perfect running order. It’s a surreal feeling to be part of something so big and exciting.
Only eight weeks ago, a group of mostly strangers gathered in an auditorium. Today we’d call ourselves friends, friends who’ve supported one another through the lows of bone-aching tiredness, sore muscles, and ragged nerves to reach the pinnacle of dance prowess.
I arrived, unsure and worried about my ability as a dancer, whether I’d be accepted by performers, many, more talented and experienced than me. But my worry had been wasted. I’ve been warmly welcomed, and I’ve made lots of friends. Adriana and I, especially, have grown close. She’s shown absolutely no animosity at having missed out on the role of Giselle, and like a true professional, she’s supported me while giving her all to her own performance. Adriana’s stunning as Myrtha, and I feel positive the critics will single her out for praise.
My dancing partnership with Luke has been yet another incredible discovery. Like our friendship and budding relationship, dancing with him felt natural from the start, as if it was meant to be. He inspires me to perform at my best, and I feel safe with him, confident that he’s more than capable of catching me and holding me up when needed, that he’ll smooth over any little slip-ups in our dance sequences.
Rehearsal today has gone well. We’re into the final act now, where I, as Giselle, have left Luke’s character, Albrecht. I’m watching from the darkened wing as he completes his dance when I experience a feeling of unease.
“You are exquisite as Giselle. More incomparable than even I imagined,” his whispered words leave me shuddering with distaste.
“Mr. Quandt…wh…what are you doing here?” I stammer.
“You did not think I would miss your debut, did you, beautiful girl.” His hateful smile makes me feel sick. “You are my finest protégé, after all.”
Before I can respond, Luke rushes offstage and pulls me into an embrace. “You were wonderful. We were wonderful together—as always,” he exclaims and kisses me deeply.
I melt into him gratefully, ignoring the unwelcome presence I just know is watching. Luke and I are engulfed by fellow cast members, who’ve rushed to join us. Everyone speaks at once, and mutual congratulations ring in the air. Luke’s arm remains firmly around my waist as Miss Karlin calls for order and instructs us to change out of our costumes. “Wardrobe needs them back to prepare for tomorrow night’s performance. Quickly, everyone,” she urges.
We file out obediently, and, as I turn to answer a question from Amelie, I meet Dieter Quandt’s angry gaze. His eyes shift from me to glare balefully at Luke, blue and cold like pinpoints of ice, jaw clenched tightly. Luke, oblivious to him, but sensing my agitation, kisses my temple reassuringly while continuing his conversation with Nikolai. I dismiss Dieter Quandt from my mind, refusing to let him spoil the occasion.
I’m nervous as we wait for Luke in the hotel lobby. Miss Ingrid and I arrived early and met up with Mom and Peter, who’s currently checking on our dinner reservations. I’m answering a question of Mom’s when Miss Ingrid nudges my arm to let me know Luke’s arrived. He’s wearing a perfectly fitted black slacks, matching jacket, and a pale blue shirt, the color enhancing his already startling blue eyes. His face breaks into a warm smile, and he lengthens his stride when he sees me.
“You’re drooling, sweetie, and who can blame you?” Mom giggles like a schoolgirl, and I feel the blush suffuse my face.
“You must be Mrs. Thompson; I’m Luke Grantham,” he greets Mom first. “It’s wonderful to meet you; Angelique talks about you all the time,” he adds, and I can tell that, like the rest of us, she’s succumbed to his charm and good looks.
“It’s lovely to meet you too, Luke. Thanks for joining us,” Mom responds with matching warmth.
“It’s my pleasure Mrs. Thompson, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he says, at which Mom immediately asks him to call her Grace.
“No need for formalities,” she says, and he smiles appreciatively. He greets Miss Ingrid, and, then, turning to me, kisses me on the cheek with a soft, “Hello,” before handing Mom the small box I hadn’t even noticed him holding.
“Under normal circumstances, I’d visit Angelique at her home and bring flowers,” he says in response to Mom’s questioning look. She opens it eagerly and removes a wrist corsage fashioned from a single, perfect gardenia.
Mom kisses him on the cheek. “Thank you, Luke, that’s incredibly sweet,” she gushes.
“Angel, can you tie it. I feel like I’m going to prom!”
“You’re behaving like a real-life prince, Luke,” Miss Ingrid teases, and he, usually so confident, looks bashful. To me, it only adds to his appeal, and I can tell, Mom thinks so too. I’m so happy right now; if only Daddy were here, things would be perfect.
Peter returns soon after, and I introduce him to Luke, who affords him the respect I have no doubt he would have given Dad if he were alive. We spend a very pleasant evening before Miss Ingrid points out the time, reminding Luke and I that we need our rest. There are no rehearsals tomorrow, but dancers have been told to get enough sleep and have a quiet day. Luke thanks Mom and Peter for dinner and, after saying goodbye, leaves to secure a cab for our trip home.
I’m sightseeing with Mom and Peter in the morning, and then we’ll have a light lunch before I leave for the theater. Luke also plans on spending the day with his parents, who are arriving mid-morning. Mom, Peter, and I will join his family for a late supper after our performance.
At home, he asks the driver to wait while he walks Miss Ingrid and me to our door, where wishes him a quick goodnight before leaving us on the doorstep.
“‘Night, beautiful,” Luke says, pulling me into a heated kiss. My blood heats, and I twine my fingers in his hair, trying to get closer still. Luke pulls back with a soft groan.
“I’d better go; sleep. Sleep tight, beautiful; I’ll see you before curtain call,” he says, his voice regretful, and with a last, tender kiss, leaves.
I fall asleep quickly and dream of dancing and being kissed by a prince.
