Sabotage (2012)

Sabotage
By Gabrielle Coppola

"The nature of your injury is... well... put it this way; now you might have the opportunity to pursue other dreams, ones that you might have sidelined for this," he took his reading glasses off and tucked them into the breast pocket of his scrubs.
"No, you don't understand, Aurora was the dream. Dancing was always ever the only dream." It was hard to say if it was the shock or the after effects of the anaesthesia, but the room wouldn't stop swaying and spinning.
"Not any more, I'm afraid. It will take at least six months before the tissue heals and you'll be able to walk on it again. I really don't think that dancing professionally is on the cards now. I'm sorry. We did the best we could."
I reached for the puke cup. But my mouth wasn't sour from that. I'd been sabotaged.

Everything was spinning, spinning. Except that it was me. I was spinning. Dancing. I was beautiful, always graceful. But no one ever really told you that you were good enough. The only real confirmation we ever got of the hierarchy was casting. And this time, I was Aurora. And I deserved it - I'd worked so hard. Stitched up so many slippers and pointe shoes. Nursed so many calluses. But, I suppose, so had Botticelli-angel-faced Sophia and swan-necked Lara who both congratulated me on my lead role. Everyone knew to save their tears for after casting. Nothing made you seem more deserving of a minor role than a temper tantrum. That's why I think I imagined the voice of Lara snickering, "you should drop her," on my way back from the bathroom.

I swore at my crutches as I shuffled my way to my seat. Everyone around me was whispering excitedly. Everyone was looking forward to the show. At least they were until they saw me hobbling past them. I tried to keep my cool and silently wished I had stayed outside and sucked in one more cigarette before coming in. What a waste starting that habit had been. The trimming down effects were bullcrap anyway. And it wasn't the only waste either.

I lay there, telling myself that it was just the heat keeping me awake. For someone who got up at 6am to practice early for Sleeping Beauty and danced for a minimum of ten hours every day I was surprisingly restless. I opened the window to try and let a breeze in. But part of me knew it wouldn't make a difference. It wasn't truly the heat that had me sweating. I was thinking about something someone had asked me: "Why do you like dancing so much?"
Why did I? I thought I'd known. It was such an intuitive thing that I never thought I'd have to explain to myself why I danced. There was nothing else like it. It was my life. And yet, life was precisely what I was missing.
I was going to be Aurora, the pinnacle role for a female ballet dancer. The role the other girls would have done anything to get. My contract was already renewed for another twelve months. My career was taking off. I was getting everything I had ever wanted. I should have been kept awake by excitement. Instead I was lying there, saturated in anxiety.
What if I can't do this?

The audience hushed as the lights dimmed. The curtains did not open for what seemed like a very long time. The impatience in the air was suffocating. When they opened, the dancers were there. They began to move to the beguiling music. They were so entrancing, and so entranced. Each clearly in love with every step they danced. Besotted with what they were doing. And that is what I envied more than the fact that they were on stage without me.

"Again." The tone wasn't condemning or appraising. I got back into the starting position. Ethan did the same. The music started again and I moved. I did every turn, every step meticulously, perfectly. Ethan grabbed me at precisely the right moments, he lifted me fluidly. We could do it like this a million times. We made no mistakes. Especially the moves that relied upon me not letting go of him, depended on my focus, balance and strength and trust in him in order not to fall. In order not to fail.
Ethan sailed around in the violet lights, and so did Lara. Aurora. She danced elegantly and swiftly. She was meticulous too. He performed the lift with her, and she did not fall. He did not drop her. She did not fail. They were like doves. They were already backstage lovers. They were breathtaking. Even though Lara had only had time to practice it half a million times next to my one million. They never looked at the audience. As if one glance would result in them seeing the pale glow of my cast under the violet. The unsavory cause of their perfect moment. Heaven forbid their guilt chip at their focus. Taint their bliss.
That bitch.

"You're perfect for Aurora. You've trained so hard, and luckily you've got the face for it."
"Thanks Ethan," I blushed.
"I can't wait to get on stage again. We're gunna have this down," he stretched his costumed limbs. I finished limbering as well even though I knew that I could have used a couple more stretches. Everyone was practicing early that morning. Opening night was closing in.
"Maybe we should move closer to the centre of the room," Ethan suggested. I surveyed the space. If we moved we'd probably just piss someone else off.
"Nah. We'll just be careful of the bar," I patted the wooden dancing bar gently.
We began the lift sequence. We both knew the routine so well we didn't even need cues or music. We moved in total sync. He grabbed me and we began the lift. It had become easy. He was strong. And my balance was excellent. I did not get dizzy from the spinning. I saw the other dancers. I saw the dancing bar that was unsafely close. My poorly stretched muscles tensed. And I let go.
I let go.
Screaming. Shrieking. None of it mine. Most of it Ethan's. I opened my eyes and saw that the dancing bar was violently splintered. But not as violently as the bone jutting out of my calf. There wasn't time for pain. But there was time for relief to seize me as Lara grabbed my hand and sobbed.
Are you happy now.