Pointe of Breaking (19 page)

Numbness blanketed my entire body as I gazed out the window of my Senior Econ classroom. The autumn leaves were raining down on campus. Columbia looked like a little slice of heaven.

I was trapped in hell.

My classmate’s heads were down as they furiously scribbled answers onto their test papers. I should care about this test. I should fill in some dots. But I was too consumed with numbness that had been my constant companions the past few days. I felt nothing hanging out with Chase or my fraternity brothers. I felt nothing walking into class each day. I felt nothing at the gym as I pushed myself to a breaking point.

I was in a state of survival mode.

The past few weeks had given me the most extreme highs and the most extreme lows a person can endure. The joy of meeting someone like Adeline, watching her dance, watching her soar. Feeling her touch. Feeling her desire. Then feeling her pain. And seeing her slip between my fingers and fall right back into all the Blake bullshit.

I had no fucking clue why Adeline would let Blake back into her life. He was fucking married for starters. I imagine she probably went back to him for the same reason that I let Sasha hang all over me a few days ago.

I didn’t want Sasha. I just wanted to forget Adeline.

We’re all idiots in the game of love; just looking to fill the strange void in our hearts that we aren’t born with. But I guess being born with love would be too easy. Fighting for love, losing love, finding love…that’s what helps the weak survive. That’s what helps the weak find strength.

When it came to my feelings for Adeline Parker—all of them were strong. All of them were painful. And all of them were just too damn much.

I. Was. Done.

My shield was up. I was exhausted and wrecked. I had nothing more to give to anyone. I just needed to keep my head down and finish school, and move the fuck on with whatever type of life I could manage to pull out of this fucked up rubble.

I handed my test over to my professor. I had no clue what I put down for answers. I’m pretty sure I just filled in circles without even reading a single question. Did I even put my name on the test?

I walked out of the Richards Memorial Economics building in a fog. My only thought was getting to the gym and punching the shit out of a boxing bag. That would be a great work out for today. I stared at my shoes as I descended the steps, oblivious to anyone around me.

Suddenly a man yelled, “Leo,” and I stopped and looked up.

Leaning on a spindled bike rack was Ivan. What the fuck did he want? He stood up from his relaxed position and dropped an orange leaf that he had been spinning in his hand. He nervously smoothed his grey skinny jeans and shoved up the sleeves of his navy blue knit cardigan. The weather was turning chilly in New York. Normally, there was nothing better than New York City in the Fall.

I had a funny feeling Fall would never be my favorite season again. I walked cautiously over to Ivan. He looked down, avoiding my gaze.

“Sorry for shouting. I called your name for a while, but you didn’t hear me…so…” He stopped mid sentence and jammed his hands into his pockets.

I did the same.

“Look. I’m sure I’m one of the last guys you want to see right now. I can tell by the look in your eyes that you’re trying to determine where to hide the body right now. But your buddy Chase knows I’m here, so I’m not sure you’d get away with it.”

“Chase told you where I was?” I grunted.

He nodded and shook back his inky black hair. He then puffed out his chest, seemingly summoning all the courage he could for what he was about to say. “Let’s get one thing straight, Leo. Adeline is my best friend. You’re not the only one who cares for her.”

I eyed him hard. “You made that crystal fucking clear.”

“Just hear me out. I’ve been her partner for years. I’ve been able to pull every single emotion out of her just by flicking a finger. We had something special.” With a hint of regret, he added, “On stage. Then she locks eyes with you from the stage and dances better than I’ve ever seen her perform in my entire life!”

“I’m failing to catch your drift,
Ivan
,” I bit out his name like there were razor blades on the inside of my mouth.

“That Sunday on the stage, when we were dancing for our lives…she was a mess. She was unfocused, unreadable. We weren’t connecting at all. I was losing her, and we were losing the opportunity of a lifetime. So…” he paused to look down and shrug his shoulders. “I inspired her.”

“Inspired her how?” I asked.

“I pretended to be you, okay?” he snapped and eyed me harshly. “I pissed her off and rattled her into a state of oblivion that she can only find when she’s thinking of you. I’m not proud and I’m not happy. I thought Addy and I were a unit…a single cell performing as one and then you come in and just fuck that all up.”

I sighed heavily as the numbness I had grabbed hold of drifted away from me. I couldn’t let his words affect me. I couldn’t let myself dare to hope.

“The kiss. The touching I did after…that was me losing my shit. I was insecure, jealous, and mad as hell that
I
wasn’t the one to inspire her anymore. We’ve inspired each other for years, Leo. Years! And then
you
come along…and—”

“What do you want from me?” I interrupted his little confession. This meant nothing now. “I saw Adeline. She was with Blake.”

The sentence spoken out loud made my stomach churn. Ivan’s face smeared with horror, and he stepped closer so our chests were nearly touching.

“She’s not with Blake, Leo. If you really think that, then maybe you don’t know her as well as you think you do.”

I flinched at his words, and the idea that anyone could know Adeline more than me.
She wasn’t with Blake?
Then what was all of that? Why would she let that prick put his hands on her again after how he treated her? How he discarded her like she was nothing? I breathed heavily, and scrubbed my hands over my face, trying desperately to make sense of this fucked up mess.

“She’s done something, Leo. Something I’m scared she can’t undo.” Ivan stated ominously.

My head jerked up from the crack on the sidewalk that I’d fixated on. I felt sympathy for that cracked pavement because I knew exactly what it was like to be broken and forgotten.

“What has she done?”

Ivan proceeded to tell me about Adeline’s money problems and how bad they had gotten after losing her Joffrey scholarship. It was so bad that she received an eviction notice on her studio apartment. My heart ached because she was no longer mine to help. I wasn’t the person she could turn to about this because I wasn’t fucking there. But turning to Blake for help? How could she be so stupid?

“Ivan, I just don’t see what I can do,” I said, pained at hearing the particulars of the deal Adeline made with Blake.

“What do you mean?” Ivan’s jaw dropped.

“She made her choice, man. She saw me that day at Cuppa. The day she met up with Blake. She doesn’t want me or my help. She wants Blake’s. Not to mention she quit calling me.”

“You weren’t picking up your fucking phone!” Ivan raked his hands through his hair in dramatic frustration. “You guys are infuriating! You both are
clearly
into each other. You just have to stop getting in your own way!”

I gripped the straps on my backpack, and watched my knuckles turn white. None of this mattered anymore. She made her choice, and she hadn’t turned to me. I desperately reached for the numbness that had been helping me survive the past few days. Ivan’s words were shaking me to the core…and they all terrified me.

“Do me a fucking favor, Leo,” he snapped, pointing his finger hard into my chest. “Come to her performance tonight. Watch her dance. You owe her at
least
that.”

I scowled at his request, wondering how watching her dance could change anything. Ivan stepped out of my space and bent over to pick up his duffle bag off the ground.

He eyed me seriously and added, “But whatever you do, don’t let her see you there. Make
sure
she doesn’t.”

Our Strength: an angelic fortitude embodied in those who know loss and choose to love, regardless of the consequences.

The slogan for
Our Strength,
the military inspired ballet, echoed in my mind. Behind the red curtain, surrounded by several dozen other dancers, Ivan came up next to me. He nudged my shoulder.

“Nerves?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I just don’t want to disappoint any military personnel in the audience.”

He placed his hand on my shoulders and forced me to face him. Without him having to say it, I knew he felt awful for being so hard on me; the apologetic look was evident in his eyes. I hoped he understood that I felt terrible for messing up so bad as well.

“This isn’t just a tribute to the armed forces, Addy girl. This is about
all
of our battles, on a personal and national level. Not all of our struggles or strengths are faced in war or on front lines. We are tasked to portray
love
. Love throughout all the pain, sorrow, and heartache. It’s not always beautiful, and that’s the beauty of it.” He dropped a soft kiss on my forehead. “I know you aren’t in love in the conventional sense, so don’t try to fake it. Embrace the other, ugly side of that four-letter word. Show the audience what it feels to love even after the loss.”

When it came to the matters of the heart, love was fought on many battlegrounds. Love was universal, as was loss. “It hurts, Ivan.”

“So show
them
that.” He pointed to the audience. “Show them the truth. Show them that it’s not something to be ashamed of.
Show
them what’s in your heart.
Dance through it.
”

I took a deep breath and nodded. He pulled back the curtain for me. The boards whined ever-so-slightly as we moved into position on center stage. The spotlights illuminated just Ivan and me; the only two dancers onstage.

With my shoulders against Ivan’s back, I took a deep breath. He reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze before the ballet started. Onstage, he was to be
my beloved,
and I his. Yet all I could picture when I closed my eyes, was Leo.

Holding on to my anxiety, fears, hopes, and dreams, I readied myself for this number. My skin prickled. My hands trembled. My entire body was on fire, yet I stood utterly still.

Everything went black. A collective gasp united the audience. They held their breaths as a tiny piercing light pin-pointed on the backdrop. It was a single focal point of light, flickering through an old movie projector onto the backdrop. The clicks of the film scrolling through the projector interrupted the beauty of the light piano. Nevertheless, the clicks held their own kind of beauty, bringing the audience backwards in time as the blurred images slowly became larger and clearer; showcasing happy family photos. Then glimmers of pictures, segments of newspapers, clips from audio reels, and television announcements overlaid the backdrop.

The string quartet complimented the piano solo. The music grew louder and louder until two of our nations landmarks were the only thing filling the screen. The Twin Towers. Dancers paired up in groups around us as
everyone
watched the news clip of the hijacked airplane crashing into one of the towers. All the dancers dropped as the building fell.

Ivan fell to his knees with the others; I was the only one left standing. I placed my arms on his shoulders and twirled around him, pulling him up to his feet again. My task was to show the gentle strength a woman possessed; the soft touch that could bring her beloved up from his knees.

When I helped Ivan to his feet, all I could think of was
Leo
. Whatever hell
he’d
been trapped in, I would have shared in
his
misery. I could have helped
him
figure out his way if
he
would have just trusted me enough to share
his
troubles.

Ivan’s body shook with angst as he gradually stood upright. All the while, dancers behind us began to stand, picking each other up. Some bore expressions of hate and spun, leaped and expressed their demand for revenge with savage movements. Others carried their beloved off stage in a state of mourning. Others crumpled and wept in their movements of dance.

Everyone was affected differently.

Everyone suffered.

However, I was not challenged to portray loss. I was to build my beloved up, make him understand that all was not forgotten, to show him that he could lean on me.

I wished Leo would have leaned on me…trusted me.

My dance began to intertwine with Ivan’s. The entire time I envisioned it was Leo
up there with me instead of Ivan.

The performance continued, and my beloved grew to show his strength. Ivan was no longer just another person, weeping for our nation. He was a man moved into action. He tore his shirt off and our dance built faster and faster as the storyline played out of him signing up for the military and going overseas.

Then we separated. Spread out across the stage, each of us dancing our own stories with a different sequenced solo. Ivan moved swiftly, spinning fast and flexing every muscle he had to show our nation’s strength; whereas mine was more delicate but in no way less important. I poured my heart and soul into my solo as I watched from afar while my beloved defended our country. The other dancers joined me as we moved across the stage. In inspiring momentum, I helped them into position. Dancers used each other’s legs and arms to build each other up, always dancing.

Images of our firefighters and builders flickered on stage. The projected imagery lay over our skin as we became a nation strong again. And then an ear piercing explosion boomed in the audience.

I threw myself onto the floorboards. Tears built in my eyes as another wave of dancers came onstage. The men and women were returning home.

Not all of them alive.

I let the horror and misery flow over my face as I waited to hear news of my beloved. The dancers leaped passed me, dropping off the end of the stage and kneeling down on the auditorium floor.

It was in that moment that I was alone.

My big solo. A large overhead spotlight dropped down on me. Pulling every ounce of regret from my body, I let myself be moved by the music. My hands shook as I stretched the poses farther and farther. My arms burned. My legs were on fire. I refused to slow down. I couldn’t. In my mind, I was with
Leo.
Dancing for
him.
Showing how
he
affected me…

…
how he broke me.

And then, Ivan stepped into the light. His body was covered with ash. Bruises covered his legs and his long-sleeve shirt was torn, revealing more of his battered body.

However, one of his arm sleeves fell limp.

I cried out soundlessly and raced to him, leaping as fast as I could. He caught me with one arm and held me in the air, both of us wracked with sobs. Ivan held the pose for several counts His arm trembled. Yet, we held the position. The entire time, I never took my eyes off of Ivan.

However, it was Leo’s dangerous eyes haunting me.

Leaning forward, I leaped. Our movements on the floor were jumbled at first, purposely falling off step. My dance picked up as I blasted each movement, spinning faster and faster; though Ivan didn’t move as swiftly. He stood stagnant and lifted me up when the dance called for it.

The music changed—faster and more romantic. The piano keys were mixed with a lovely violin duel. I leapt forward. Ivan grabbed my foot and pushed me into the air again. Our bodies were in sync as we danced on stage, showing our affection for each other.

In my fantasies, I let myself fall in love again. I closed my eyes for the part. Reality was far too painful to bear witness to any longer. Ivan, my beloved, laid me down on the floor and kissed my hand as if to say goodbye.

A gun fired.

Ivan fell limp on the floor.

Sitting up, my heart flowing out with my tears as I raced to him, dragging my pointes across the floor board. I stumbled onto my beloved’s body. I shook Ivan’s limp body, begging for him to return to me...return to me!

I thought I was enough. The happiness that had once tingled through me like it was awakening my soul was now shredding it. Hopelessness replaced the hopeful.

My beloved remained unresponsive. Once more, I was alone. Abandoning the choreography, my emotions took over completely. I hysterically beat Ivan’s chest, begging for him to return to me. My body trembled with the horror and the fear of being left without him.
Without Leo.

This part of the dance was to portray the haunting beauty of a survivor: to show how we carry our loved ones with us. Love betrayed those who succumbed to it; it would consume us and leave us with everything and nothing at the same time.

In this moment, draped over Ivan’s body, I couldn’t bring myself to convey anything but heartbreak.

For that was the only thing left inside me.

Raw.

Utter.

Heartbreak.

The music stopped. The only sounds were my ragged breaths. We were to give a moment of silence in our next count, but when the music stopped, everything I’d been holding in ripped from my throat. My cries echoed off the walls. In a room filled with hundreds, only my anguish was heard.

I wept.

I’d given every piece of my heart, my soul. I couldn’t silence it. Not anymore. I knew I was to show strength right now, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t real. Life was real. My heartbreak was real.

I couldn’t stand up on my own two feet and hold myself high. So instead, the other dancers—the symbolic survivors—pried me off of my beloved and dragged me away...