The Storm Before the Calm (3 page)

I heard the music start, the familiar chords I’d heard a million times over, but tonight they moved the blood through my body like they never had before. There was a palpable difference between the practice room and the stage, everything so much more intense. I wasn’t alone up there. I had my classmates around me, all of us moving in perfect synchronization. As a male dancer, it was my job to showcase the beauty of the women on the stage, and yet, at the same time, I was the center of it all. I was the only guy, twelve girls pirouetting around me in a circle as I lifted Emily above my head. Her legs were stretched out in the perfect arabesque, her center of gravity balanced easily in my hand as I gripped her hip. It was a move we’d practiced a thousand times, and each time I was astounded at how effortless it appeared.

As I extended my arm, I felt the pull of the cuts on my ribs, a sharp reminder of how low I’d been hours before and how alone I would feel once Emily was fifteen hundred miles away.

Chapter Three

T
HE
LAST
two weeks of school were agonizing. It was as though Dylan was trying to cram a year’s worth of bullshit into fourteen short days. One last hurrah, but it wouldn’t be. I wasn’t going anywhere, and my guess was, neither was he. There would be plenty of time for his particular brand of torture, and without the threat of teachers or school administrators, he would be free to let loose.

I had never dreaded anything as much as I did that summer. It signaled the end of any safety I’d felt up until then. No more dance classes. Emily would be gone, and I would be alone and vulnerable. I hated that feeling. If there had been a way to forge myself some armor that would shield me from the barrage of hell Dylan was sure to unleash on me, I would have done it.

Our graduation ceremony was set to start that afternoon. I walked into the house and dumped my backpack on the floor for the last time.

“Mom?” I called, knowing she would be home. It was rare that my mom requested time off work, but I knew she wouldn’t miss my graduation.

“In here, Charlie,” she called back from the kitchen.

I followed her voice in and sat down at the table. She placed a mug in front of me and filled it with tea. The liquid was fragrant, and despite the heat outside, I was grateful for it.

“How was your last day?” my mom asked expectantly.

I shrugged. “Unremarkable.” I was lying. It was the first time Dylan had made his cronies hold me down while he used a lighter to mark the tender skin on the inside of my forearms. Sending the year out with a sizzle, he’d said.

“I have something for you,” she said, standing up from the table and walking to the counter. She dug around in her purse for a moment before producing a plain white envelope. “I was going to wait until after your ceremony to give you this, but I’ve been keeping it a secret for so long, and I can’t wait anymore.”

She handed it to me and waited, her expression hopeful.

“You shouldn’t have gotten me anything, Mom,” I said, knowing any gift would have been a financial strain for her.

“Oh, hush. My baby only graduates from high school once. Let a mother have a minute of glory, would you?”

I smiled, grateful to have a parent who loved me as fiercely as my mom did. I carefully slid my finger beneath the flap of the envelope, not wanting to tear it. I reached inside and pulled out a plane ticket and a brochure for the Free Rein Dance Company.

I held it up, unable to form a proper sentence. “But… what… I don’t….”

My mom laughed at me. “You leave the day after tomorrow. Aunt Ginny is going to pick you up at the airport and take you back to her place. Your summer intensive starts two days after that.”

“Summer intensive?” I asked, still having trouble wrapping my mind around what was happening to me.

“You didn’t think I was going to let you stay here all summer and have your talent go to waste, did you?” she asked.

“But… how?”

“Emily helped me. We sent in a tape from one of your classes, and they loved what they saw. You’re in, baby.”

I leaped from my chair, threw my arms around her, and hugged her tighter than ever before. “Thank you. Thank you.
Thank you
.” I kept repeating it over and over and over again. It would never be enough, though. She would never understand what she had done for me. Even if nothing ever came of this. Even if I made it all the way to New York and I fell on my face my first day in class. This was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to me.

T
HE
GRADUATION
ceremony dragged on longer than I thought possible. What was sure to be a momentous event in most kids’ lives was tedious and drawn out. I didn’t want to be sitting in a crowd of people I’d never made connections with, itchy in my polyester gown and ill-fitting cap. There was no celebratory throwing of the hats at the end for me. I sat there fidgeting, wanting nothing more than to go home and start packing.

Finally the ceremony ended, and the students all filed out of the auditorium, meeting up with proud parents and doting grandparents. My mom was waiting by her car, a wide grin on her face and her keys poised in her hand.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, unlocking my door for me.

We both piled in, and she started the car, heading for home.

“You know how proud I am of you, right?” she said as we rounded the corner and came to a stop at the first light.

“I know, Mom.”

“No, I don’t think you do, Charlie. I don’t just mean for graduating today, although that does make me a very happy mama. You’ve grown to be such a wonderful man, as hard as it is for me to admit you’re an adult now…. I still see you as my baby. I always will. But I am so proud of who you’ve become. I know you’re going to do great things in this world.”

“Mom… I—” I almost said it. I wanted to tell her, but I couldn’t force myself to say it. For years, they’d been swirling around in my head, wisps of the words I’d one day have the courage to voice out loud. But hell, I hadn’t even said them to myself. I wasn’t ready. “I love you,” I said at last.

“I love you too, baby.”

She reached over and squeezed my hand before replacing her grip on the steering wheel. I swallowed past the lump in my throat. I knew most guys flew the nest right after graduation, taking their chance to get as far away from their families as they could—all in the name of independence. I’d never felt that way about my mom. It had always been just us, and the idea of leaving her and jetting off to New York was harder to accept than it should have been.

We arrived home and walked into the house.

“Wanna watch a movie or something?” I asked. My mom being home for the evening was a rarity, and since I was going to be leaving her in two short days, I wanted to spend as much time with her as I could.

“A movie would be nice. But you have something you need to do first.”

“What’s that?”

“Pack!”

She raced up the stairs, and I followed after her, pulling my suitcase out from underneath my bed as she pulled clothes from my closet and tossed them on the bed next to me. I sorted through them, figuring out what I would need. What did I need for three months at a professional dance company? I took all the dance clothes I’d ever acquired, which amounted to less than half a suitcase full. I added in a couple of pairs of shorts and some T-shirts too, assuming I wouldn’t be in dance gear the whole time. Although my dance gear looked suspiciously like a lot of my street clothes.

In the end, we had less than a full suitcase but more than I needed for my stay. Or at least I hoped so.

When I was sure I hadn’t missed anything, my mom and I retreated downstairs, piling onto the couch together and settling in to watch a movie. I couldn’t say which one we chose, my mind was so preoccupied with other things. I was sad to be leaving my mom, but the excitement that was building over my last shot at doing something I loved quickly eclipsed any sadness that lingered in my mind. I was only going to be gone for a few months.

T
HE
TRIP
to New York was different than I had expected it to be. When I held that ticket in my hands for the first time, I imagined climbing aboard some huge jetliner and taking off into the sunset on my way to the Big Apple. My reality was much less glamorous. It turns out that there are not, in fact, any direct flights from Beacon to New York. The tiny airport on the outskirts of our little town is reserved for a handful of prop planes that only fly a few miles. I had to take a half-hour flight to Sioux Falls, where I transferred planes, flew to Chicago, and then on to LaGuardia Airport.

When I finally landed in New York, I wanted to fall to the ground and kiss the pavement on the runway. The plane I was on between Beacon and Sioux Falls shook and rattled so badly I was amazed it hadn’t disintegrated in midflight. The flight attendant had patted my hand as we took off, obviously sensitive to my uneasiness. I munched on the miniature package of pretzels she handed me, concentrating on chewing evenly on both sides, anything to take my mind off the possibility of the wings detaching themselves from the body of the aircraft.

At least the fear of imminent death kept my mind off how sad my mom had looked as I’d hefted my suitcase out of the trunk of her car before turning and hugging her good-bye. I could tell she was going to cry the moment I was out of sight, but I had to hand it to her for holding it together as well as she did. As unmacho as it sounded, if she’d lost it, I would have cried right along with her. I was really going to miss her.

LaGuardia was bigger than I had expected. There were different terminals, and I wasn’t completely confident that I wouldn’t get lost and spend the entire summer trying to navigate the various hallways and escalators that seemed to be designed like some type of maze. I kept my eyes raised, trying to follow the signs to the baggage claim area. Unfortunately, when your gaze is lifted, it’s difficult to see what’s going on right in front of you. And that was how I managed to trip over an old man who had suddenly stopped to tie his shoes.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” I stammered, trying to collect my composure.

“Go fuck yourself, you moron,” the sweet old man replied.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I had no idea how to respond. He flipped me off for good measure before taking his wife’s hand and leading her away. I stood there dumbfounded for a moment. I’d been in New York all of ten minutes, and I’d already been sworn at. I picked up my backpack from where it had fallen and hoped no one was looking. The terminal was packed with people, and I was sure every single person was staring at me. My cheeks heated with mortification as I scurried away.

I finally found the baggage claim carousels. While I waited for my bag, I phoned my mom to let her know I’d arrived safely. Her phone clicked over to voice mail, but I left a message for her. A few minutes later, my beat-up suitcase came barreling down the chute and onto the conveyer belt. It wasn’t difficult to spot. It had been my mom’s, and I’m fairly certain she’d purchased it sometime around 1974. It was once yellow with large pink flowers, but time and the slow decay of the polyester had left it looking a bit like a muddled brown mess. Still, it was the only one that wasn’t a sleek black or navy, so when I saw it tumble down, I awkwardly pushed my way through the crowd to retrieve it.

Aunt Ginny was waiting for me when I walked out of the doors directly behind the baggage area, dragging my suitcase behind me.

“Sprout!” she yelled, calling me by the nickname she had given me when I was a kid. Wrapping me in a giant hug, she kissed my forehead like I was still the five-year-old boy with the mop of blond curls running around barefoot in my backyard.

“Hi, Aunt Ginny,” I said, returning the hug. “Thank you so much for having me.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Of course! When your mom told me you’d gotten into the summer program, I leaped at the chance to have you stay with me. It’ll be nice to have someone else to talk to around the apartment other than the cat.”

She threw her arm around my shoulders and led me toward the taxi pickup area. There was already a line there, and a man in a yellow jacket was directing tourists.

“You have lots of people to talk to,” I said.

“Not anyone as handsome as you. When did you get to be so big?” she asked, stopping and turning to look at me once we’d reached the end of the line, her hands on her hips.

“Probably five years ago?” I guessed.

“I suppose I haven’t been around as much as I should have. I’m sorry about that, Charlie. But we can make up for it this summer. There’s lots of time for us to bond. I’m working nights at the hospital these days, but I do get a couple of weekends off here and there. Maybe I could take you to the Museum of Natural History?”

“That sounds awesome.”

“It’s a date, then.”

We stepped up, finally our turn to get into a cab. The man in the yellow jacket asked us how many and where we were going, then pointed to a taxi at the front. “Go on in,” he said, grabbing my bag and handing it to the driver. The man popped the trunk and tossed my suitcase in while Ginny and I slid into the backseat.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Ginny said, slamming the door.

She didn’t bother putting on her seat belt, something I felt uncomfortable not doing, so I buckled up, quietly clicking the belt around me. The driver slammed the trunk and then took his seat, asking us where we were going in an accent so thick I could barely understand him. My aunt didn’t seem bothered though and quickly spouted the address to him.

There was a small screen mounted in between the backs of the seats in front of us. The video ran in a loop, talking about the different things to see and do in the city. I ignored it, opting instead to peer out my window and take in the sights that stood beside the highway.

“How was your flight?” Ginny asked as we crossed over the bridge into Manhattan.

“It was good. It felt long, though.”

“You must be tired.”