Fragments (33 page)

“Hey again, arseface, what did you forget?” I laugh.

“Well, I guess after you not answering my other calls, this is a pretty big hint as to why.” My breath catches and I know he’s heard it. Shocked, I draw my phone away from my face to see in horror
Leon
lit up on the screen.
Oh, shit.
Clenching my eyes, I return the phone to my face and mutter a pathetic, “Hey, sorry, thought you were my brother.”

“Wow, it just gets better and better,” he drones.

“I, um … Oh …”
FUCK!
“I’m so sorry … I have been meaning to call, but …”

“Look, Trice. I just wanted to see after all the ignored calls that you were okay. I thought maybe your housemate was covering for you before. I was hoping I wasn’t getting a blow-off … Turns out I was.”

He was right. I
had
been ignoring him. Not because that time we fooled around wasn’t fun—it was fun. I just didn’t feel the spark that I desperately wanted now. My tattoo was a reminder of that. 

“Leon, I didn’t mean to. Honestly. I just have been so busy and well, I didn’t know how to respond after—you know.”

He sighs into the phone and I can tell he’s hurt. I am a bitch.

“Look, Trice, after you hightailed it the other week after picking up your car, I figured it was that … I guess I was just curious. Anyway, it’s done. I’ve gotta go. Next time, just have the balls to pick up your phone. Bye.” 

He hangs up and I’m left there feeling guilty and confused. A perfectly nice guy who I didn’t have the guts to let down easily. My priorities are screwed up. Argh. I need to sort this shit out.

A loud clap sounds and we move like cattle back to the centre of the room. We assemble

into position, and as the music plays, we complete the dance better this time. Once that is over, our more confronting piece is ready to be rehearsed.

The music begins and we reposition ourselves while the soft tinkling melody of a more emotional piece, Britney Spears’ “Every Time”, fills the room. DD wanted the pop princess, and Cody only allowed that one song in this case. As much as listening to her trashy music causes indigestion, this song works. We were acting as part of an orphanage, and it was a reflective memoir of their difficult lives. The focus is on these orphans, coming of age and trying to get out of poverty, and society, who they feel “let them down”, according to Cody.

It always astonishes me how these sub-plots that choreographers come up with translate to audience members. While dancers perform it, will the audience understand it? Or simply think,
oh, that is pretty
. Being observed by Martin, the guest choreographer from Sydney, makes me wonder if he understands these pieces or just our ability. We feel the beauty in this piece, yet it is hard to hold onto as DD attempts to wear us down individually. The cloud I came in on after Alex’s near kiss was deflated and shrivelled by the time this class was underway. I missed the adrenaline that I felt coming into the room. This past year, especially, has seemed more than an unhappy occupation than anything else. The crunch time of our future is dawning, and I am not looking forward to it.

“C’mon!” DD caustically yells. “Stick your positions. Everyone is looking weak.” With his

hand on his hip in an irate stance, it doesn’t take too long until the criticisms start oozing out. “What are you doing? This is an insult to our academy!” followed by the ever-so-pleasant, “Lift your game! My grandma can do better—and she’s dead!” That one is always a crowd-pleaser. Nothing worse than to insult his poor dead grandma. All the more reason why, at times, I hate being here. This is not how I see myself.

Continuing with the steps, I momentarily think of Alex and wonder if he will come and watch our final performance. The thought casts a gentle rainbow in my mind.

“Oi! Beatrice!”

I cringe at the use of my full name. I have told him repeatedly to call me Trice. My head snaps in shock towards the director, while almost losing my place. As our eyes clash, he whispers something to Martin, with a sneer on his face, while watching me intently. No, sir, you will not see me fail this piece.  We continue until he calls, “Cut!!” then assemble in the centre for him to discuss our lesson. Cody departs quickly to the office, leaving just the director and Martin.

“You all need to improve dramatically. That was some of the worse dancing I have seen in decades
.
” My shoulders stiffen at that analysis. It is bullshit, and we all know it.

“We have Martin here, all the way from Sydney, and that embarrassed me.” You would think Sydney was on the other side of the equator. His sneer that outlines his ultra-thin lips, twitches as he scans the group. DD, in some ways, resembles a finger puppet with minimal facial features. If Leticia were indeed screwing him, I would hope, as much as I cringed to think about it, that she would have her eyes sealed shut while doing so.

“Beatrice, something wrong?” the director asks me. I stiffen, willing my face not to give me away.

“No, Sir,” I reply weakly.

His hand rises to his chin as he surveys me. “Really? Seems to me that anything I say, you have an opinion on. Am I right?”

Perplexed, I answer, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“It’s written all over your face, Beatrice. Do you think that your class is beneath you? That this class is not good enough for you?”

“Nnn ... no, Sir.”

“Well, let me tell you, you can wipe that look of distain from your face. You are not above this class. In fact, you are rather mediocre. I am surprised that you were allowed in. Perhaps the

regional towns took pity on you, as your craft is rather pedestrian.”

I heave a breath of shock, embarrassed by his outburst while willing my eyes not to water.

Why am I the target?

Grinning, he seems satisfied about his verbal slaughter of me in front of my classmates. “Weakness is not for this class. Your tears will not work on me.”

I will not cry. I will not cry.
I breathe in soft pants through my mouth to keep my emotions in check. 

“That will do for today, class. Next lesson, I expect better.” Pointing to his chest, he concludes with, “Remember it’s
me
who writes those references.”

Turning, he and Martin step towards the office, and Regan, Aidan, and Josh immediately meet me. 

“Sweetie.” Regan rubs my shoulder. “You all right?”

I shrug. Seeing as I’m so close to crying, I fear my voice will set off a torrent of tears.

“What a fucker,” Aiden mumbles. “You aren’t shit at all. You’re fucking incredible. I want to punch that prick in the nut sack.”

I smile. I love how fiercely protective my friends in this class are. The comfort is short lived, while I hear a snarly, “Oh … poor Beatrice. Did the director finally tell you how shit you were? Gonna have a big cry?”

Standing with her other lecherous friends, Leticia’s vindictive smirk does not go unnoticed. Unlucky for her, I spent far too long dealing with bitches like herself. I am no longer the small girl who lets people walk all over her.

Pinning her with my gaze, I smile sweetly, and say, “Hey Leticia, just the person I wanted to see. Mind going in and doing your duty of sucking Craig’s cock? He looked a bit grumpy today. Or are you in shark week? Heard you liked all your holes filled, so you might as well get a-crackin’.”

I wink and link my arm with Regan’s, and wave to Leticia above my hair. My chest still feels tight at the director’s words, but I leave with the upper hand. I am strengthened by the laughs heard from my friends as I leave this shitty studio behind.

              Riding along in the tram gives me time to let my thoughts gather and flatten out. I feel a stab of guilt at my cowardice of not calling back Leon. Before today, I didn’t think Alex was interested.  This guilt strengthens my resolve to find out exactly what is going on with Alex. If he was just flirting—fine. Then I’ll deal. If it was something more … Could I jeopardise our friendship for a fling? He doesn’t do relationships and no way do I want to be another notch. As the tram continues to trundle down, the sting of DD’s comments still linger. Do I really want to be in future dance companies? If I’m faced with another director who’s an arsehole, what then? I am getting fed up with the constant worry of pleasing people. I just want to entertain and not feel the sting of censure for something I love.

I pull my iPod out and set my playlist to Chill Out Tunes. Ministry of Sound begins easing the stress of the lesson, and my thoughts become languid as I contemplate where my next future would float to. On one hand, I could continue, dance in theatre productions, and be happy most of the time, or I could quit. Quitting seems futile. I fought to be here; I need to make this work. I make a point of writing a reminder in my phone to research independent dance companies. Maybe my future lies with a smaller production company or just to dance somewhere else.

              The tram nears closer to home, and my languid thoughts waver into taut apprehension. If Alex were home, what would he do? Would he smile and pretend we didn’t have a moment? Or would he ask me how I felt? Part of me worries he was out with Ty again, and that this morning was just a game. I squeeze my eyes closed and give myself a quick pep talk. I will go in and pretend everything is fine and act totally normal. I need a shower—no, scratch that, a bath, so rushing to get one will give me some extra time to deal with him.

              Arriving at the front door, I quickly unlock it and head straight for the shower. I keep my eyes forward while hoping it is vacant. Upon entering, I sigh in relief and turn on the tap to have a bath. Grabbing some lavender essential oil, I add a few drops to the water while getting my favourite body scrub. A good soak is just what I need.

I unzip my jacket, while kicking off my shoes and then tearing down my yoga pants. Unravelling my tight bun, I shake my hair out and run my fingers through the sweaty mass. A good hair soak, too, will be happening. Lifting up my tank and bra, I throw them down while pulling off my panties. Testing the water with my finger, the water is perfect, and I slow the flow of the taps. I grab my bath essentials and line them up so I’m ready to go. Raising my leg to enter the bath, I feel a gust of cold wind as the bathroom door is suddenly thrown open and an angry looking Alex marches in.

“Ah!” I scream, while grabbing the towel from the rack behind me to cover up. I hold it in front of me yelling, “What the fuck? Get out!”

Alex doesn’t listen to me, though. He keeps walking until he has my back pressing uncomfortably against the towel rail.

“Are you seeing him?” he asks, an inch away from my face.

Confused, I clutch the towel to my chest while I stare back at him. “Who?” I gape.

“Leon. He called here, looking for you.”

What on earth?

“Why is it any of your business? It’s not like I screwed him. I’m not like you!”

He stands there for a beat and I see his eyes drain into guilt. Yep, that was a low blow.

“She meant nothing, Bea. I can’t hide my past. But none of them meant anything. I just

want— ”

“Um, no. Can we like talk about this later? I’m naked and I was just having a—”

“I know he’s a better man than me. I know he’s funnier and he’s friendly with my sister. But Bea,” he says moving his hands to the wall on both sides of my face, “I’m the one who should be standing here.” My eyes bulge out of my head as I stare back at him. I clutch my towel tighter to protect myself.

“Alex, like I said, I’m naked here. Can you give me some space? We can talk about this once I get out. Because, you know, I’m
naked
!”

“No. You’re hiding from me. I know I hurt you those years ago, and I ache about it every day. I know that I’m not your idea of a Prince Charming, but Bea, I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I am tired of burying it.”

I gasp at his confession. His eyes penetrate mine and I forget that I am standing in a towel. My mouth opens as my lips quaver and I tearfully tell him, “You broke me, Alex. I haven’t been able to open up to anyone because of you. I don’t believe in a knight in shining armour, or a Prince Charming, but back then, if you had given me a chance, I would have believed in you.”

Seeing his eyes fill with regret crushes me. We are two broken souls, teetering on the edge. I feel like my heart is floating in pieces in my chest. 

“Bea,” he begs. “Please, forgive me … Just …” My tears fall rapidly now as I struggle to compose myself.

“I don’t know if I can feel like that again, Alex.” I sob, “What if all this is just bullshit? You could destroy me.” Clenching my eyes shut, I can’t look at him. Looking at him increases the ache in my chest.

“Never.” Before I can tell him to move away, he grabs my face in both hands, looks at me, and says, “You are mine. My Bea!” and slams his lips against mine.

In shock, my mouth opens slightly and he uses that advantage to push his tongue through, tasting mine. I grip his shoulders and the towel falls to the ground. Pulling on his shirt, I rub myself against him, eager to get as close as I can. I’m hot and I’m shaking, and I want to climb into his soul.  He groans into my mouth as his hands go around my waist and grip me against him. This kiss sears my soul, and doubts of my future, of dance, of anything are nothing in relation to how I’m feeling right now. My heart wants to explode and draw him into it, locking him away forever.