Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
What I had worked so hard for had finally come to fulfillment.
The stage lights came up, and the sad, melodramatic music started. Instantly taking me away to a deep, dark and depressing place. A place I needed to be to pull off this routine.
The performance of a lifetime was what they called it, and they were right. Not too many ballerinas got this chance, and for that, I was eternally grateful.
I’d been rehearsing day and night for the last six months, barely stopping to eat or sleep. And even then, I was still going over the routines in my mind. This act was the closing scene. If I did it right, there wouldn’t be a dry eye in the sold-out Metropolitan Opera House. Almost four thousand people would feel the emotions I projected through my movements.
I started to move, floating across the abundant stage with my back to the audience. My arms like swan wings, gliding up and down as I made my way to center stage. Turning ever so slightly to face the orchestra. Arching my back, my pointe shoes continued their assault on the Marley floor beneath me. The melody of the stringed instruments pulled at my heart, mimicking my own sadness, carrying me effortlessly from step to step.
Piqué, arabesque into a beautiful bourrée. My torso leaned forward as my arms floated behind my back. Repeating the movements over and over again, each becoming more and more intense as the music heightened. Turning in tight circles, flapping my wings, letting the lights blur before me. The natural movements of my body instinctively taking me away to the only place I had ever felt comfort.
Music and dance were my peace.
They made me feel whole.
I danced like it was my last show, as if my life, my happiness, my world depended on it. Gliding fluently around the stage from one corner to the other. Turning and twisting, leaping through the air as if I had been a swan in captivity all my life.
Finally, free.
The routine was over too soon. For the big finish, and the demise of the beautiful swan, I positioned myself into a pirouette turn with a dramatic landing. Easing down to my knee. Sitting back on my heel with my left leg stretched out in front of me. I lowered my upper body to my knee, bringing my wings above my head.
Slowly falling.
The music started to fade as my body rolled up one last time before gracefully dying.
The stage went dark. Everything around me was black. Everything went quiet.
Silence all over.
The curtain dropped, separating me from the crowd. I stood up, taking a deep breath, preparing for my grande reverence. Standing in fifth position with my arms in demi-seconde.
Waiting.
The curtain lifted. The lights came on. A domino effect erupted from the rows of people, everyone stood. Applauding, whistling, cheering. I looked out at the audience, imagining all the beautiful tear-stained faces almost knocked the wind out of me.
For the first time in my life.
I felt at home.
After a few minutes, I walked forward to center stage, and did a rond de jambe into a curtsey. Placing my hand over my heart, and bowing my head as the curtain came down again. The rest of the performers took the stage behind me. The curtain lifted one last time. The crowd once again went wild, and I loved every second of it. Even though there would be more performances, nothing would ever compare to my first. I didn’t want the night to end.
We exited the stage, and I was bombarded by the staff of our company and the choreographers. It would be a matter of minutes before the happy patrons would make their way to my dressing room wanting pictures, signatures, everything under the sun, and I happily gave it to them. I was exhausted but I wouldn’t change a thing. My body ached, my feet throbbing in pain. I couldn’t wait to slip my pointe shoes off. I placed all the bouquets of roses on the table, shutting the door behind me, needing some privacy. A moment to myself to breathe.
I sat down in my director-style chair, and unlaced my shoes. Kicking them off one by one, my toes relished the freedom. Flexing and rolling my stiff ankles. Standing, I slipped off my tutu, and placed it on the counter. Only leaving on my leotard and dance tights to go home in. I gazed in the mirror, getting ready to remove my caked on make-up.
“Nikolai,” I shrieked, alarmed. Placing my hand over my chest. Looking at the man that appeared in the mirror. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”
He smiled, pushing off the wall. “Is that anyway for a prima ballerina to talk?” He pecked my lips, handing me another huge bouquet of red roses.
I laughed.
I had been seeing Nikolai on and off for the last year or so. I didn’t really keep track, too consumed with work in the theatre. Not that it mattered anyway, the relationship wasn’t going anywhere, and we weren’t serious. He was always traveling, something to do with his work or what not. At least that’s what he told me. I wouldn’t see him for weeks, and then out of nowhere he would just show up. Tonight, being the perfect example. He was a gentleman, sweet, attentive, caring. Buying me things I never asked for, taking me into fancy places I wouldn’t step foot in without him.