waking moment—forgoing food and sleep—perfecting it. On opening night, while I was performing, I analyzed every move I made. Everything felt wrong, and I was furious by the time it ended. A woman from the audience came up to me after the performance, bawling her eyes out. She said she’d never seen anything like the way I danced that night. I thanked her but I blew it off in my mind. All I told myself was that it should’ve been better. I picked at it for days, finding every flaw I could, until it became the worst performance I’d ever had, in my mind. Earlier today when you were tearing your work apart the way you were, you reminded me of me . Look, it’s okay to want to work harder, to improve, but enjoy succeeding , too. And enjoy how you’ve touched people. You can’t let yourself forget—”
“The tears in the crowd,” he said, nodding, getting it.
“Exactly.”
“I like that…and I’ll try.” No. Oh fuck. He was doing it again. The smile thing. It got me hot again , too. “Hm. You are something , Nikki…” Do NOT sleep with him tonight. Pretend your underwear has a chastity belt. I wriggled around in the seat.
“Something?”
“Yeah. Something.” He took his iPhone out of his pocket and plugged it into the auxiliary hole on the car’s dash. “Turn on the engine. I hate a world without music.”
“Me, too. Is that a song lyric on your arm?” I asked as I turned the key. Charlie shook his head but didn’t explain.
“So…don’t expect anything as amazing as your collection, but…” He shuffled through the songs, barely letting one play for more than a few seconds before moving on.
“Whoa. I haven’t heard this in a while.” I grabbed his wrist. “Can you keep it here?” I turned the volume up on Kings of Leon’s “Wicker Chair.”
Charlie raised his eyebrows, but his gaze was stuck on my hand. The warmth I’d felt earlier when he touched my back returned. “This song is always playing in my car and no one ever knows it. I’d believe you if you said you were really a fan.”
“You know how when you first discover a band and they’re still playing mostly on college radio? You know they’re struggling to break out as artists, but it’s just so damn good. It’s urgent and anxious. It’s painful and passionate. It’s not mainstream radio-friendly. And you’re singing songs no one else really knows? I love that. It just feels like you own it. ‘Youth & Young Manhood’ was that album for me. It got me through a rough patch. I was looking to connect with something. And I wanted a voice in my head that wasn’t my own…when I was in rehab.” I cleared my throat. “So…how much do you actually want to know? About my real story. About this dancer with a past…”
“Anything you want to tell me, Nikki, which could be nothing at all.” His eyes were almost black without much light in the car. Yet there was a soothing quality about them. “No pressure. We did just meet a few hours ago.”
And maybe that was why I wanted to explain everything. But as I took in his kind smile, I hesitated. I never had before with anyone. Nothing about the way he was looking at me said he was trying to probe or guess what I was going to say. He was just… waiting. For me to talk, or not talk for that matter. It was sweet. So, speaking felt like a risk now because…he was something to lose?
What? I don’t even know him. But I want to. And I want him to know me. It’s important that he does.
I took a deep breath. This was normally the time when what I said broke my relationships with others. But I still refused to close off or shut down or run away. I didn’t want the accident or alcohol to define me, but they were both as present as any tangible part of me. “I had my first sip of alcohol when I was about fifteen. At a party. It’s hard to explain what happened but…it just made everything better . And they weren’t even bad . Ballet is so much about control and perfection.
“The tears in the crowd,” he said, nodding, getting it.
“Exactly.”
“I like that…and I’ll try.” No. Oh fuck. He was doing it again. The smile thing. It got me hot again , too. “Hm. You are something , Nikki…” Do NOT sleep with him tonight. Pretend your underwear has a chastity belt. I wriggled around in the seat.
“Something?”
“Yeah. Something.” He took his iPhone out of his pocket and plugged it into the auxiliary hole on the car’s dash. “Turn on the engine. I hate a world without music.”
“Me, too. Is that a song lyric on your arm?” I asked as I turned the key. Charlie shook his head but didn’t explain.
“So…don’t expect anything as amazing as your collection, but…” He shuffled through the songs, barely letting one play for more than a few seconds before moving on.
“Whoa. I haven’t heard this in a while.” I grabbed his wrist. “Can you keep it here?” I turned the volume up on Kings of Leon’s “Wicker Chair.”
Charlie raised his eyebrows, but his gaze was stuck on my hand. The warmth I’d felt earlier when he touched my back returned. “This song is always playing in my car and no one ever knows it. I’d believe you if you said you were really a fan.”
“You know how when you first discover a band and they’re still playing mostly on college radio? You know they’re struggling to break out as artists, but it’s just so damn good. It’s urgent and anxious. It’s painful and passionate. It’s not mainstream radio-friendly. And you’re singing songs no one else really knows? I love that. It just feels like you own it. ‘Youth & Young Manhood’ was that album for me. It got me through a rough patch. I was looking to connect with something. And I wanted a voice in my head that wasn’t my own…when I was in rehab.” I cleared my throat. “So…how much do you actually want to know? About my real story. About this dancer with a past…”
“Anything you want to tell me, Nikki, which could be nothing at all.” His eyes were almost black without much light in the car. Yet there was a soothing quality about them. “No pressure. We did just meet a few hours ago.”
And maybe that was why I wanted to explain everything. But as I took in his kind smile, I hesitated. I never had before with anyone. Nothing about the way he was looking at me said he was trying to probe or guess what I was going to say. He was just… waiting. For me to talk, or not talk for that matter. It was sweet. So, speaking felt like a risk now because…he was something to lose?
What? I don’t even know him. But I want to. And I want him to know me. It’s important that he does.
I took a deep breath. This was normally the time when what I said broke my relationships with others. But I still refused to close off or shut down or run away. I didn’t want the accident or alcohol to define me, but they were both as present as any tangible part of me. “I had my first sip of alcohol when I was about fifteen. At a party. It’s hard to explain what happened but…it just made everything better . And they weren’t even bad . Ballet is so much about control and perfection.
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