Love, Loathing, and Limelight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

 I always see the Nutcracker on Christmas Eve, and this year was no exception, even if I was going alone. This was going to be my chance to relax and not hate myself. I was going to destress and watch my favorite thing in the world and not worry about anything. I decided to wear a short, tight-hugging, emerald, sparkly dress. I always dress nice. I like to get dressed up and do my hair. So when I called a cab to take me to the theater in my outfit, which was far too nice to be taking the bike, I didn't stop to realize that I was making quite a spectacle of myself. Truthfully, I had forgotten that there was always a group of cameras who knew way too many details about my life. I didn't think they would use their knowledge of my passion for ballet to figure out that I spent every Christmas Eve at the theater. So I wasn't prepared for the vigorous camera flashing and questions in which the answers may or may not make the following headline.

"Sara Connor," one woman said. "Tell us, what are you doing all dressed up at the theater by yourself on Christmas Eve?" This time, nobody was there to push them away for me. I promised myself not to stress for one night, and I wasn't about to break that promise for a couple of journalists who'd been on my case since the story got out. I took a deep breath, and for the first time, I spoke to them calmly and respectfully.

"Well, I was going to attend the Nutcracker like I do every year, and I'm dressed up because I find it really fun to get dressed up and go to the theater. But um, now that I'm here, I suddenly feel very tired, and I'm going to go home now." I followed my pungent response with a quick smirk before climbing back into the cab and leaving the theater. I spent the entire drive devising a plan.

"If you don't mind, would you wait for me? I'll be back in five minutes," I said to the driver as I got out of the car. He nodded. I went inside and quickly put on black leggings, a gray hoodie, and a giant flannel to wear over the hoodie and promptly put my hair up in a clip. Nothing was going to stop me from enjoying this night. After getting dropped off at the theater again, I put my hood on and had no trouble getting in.

The theater calms me. I love the feeling of being surrounded by a story being told right before my eyes, even if it's a story I've known for years. Maybe that's what I really am, a storyteller. I tell a story every time I step on a stage. I've been responsible for telling many stories to many different people through dance, but now that that's been put on hold, I have to figure out the ending to my own story. And I know I will because it's who I am. I am the storyteller, and I have to finish the story that I started.

Truthfully, I had absolutely no clue what would happen between Noah and me. I knew the desired outcome, I knew what would be the worst-case scenario, and I knew that nothing was guaranteed between us. But I found some contentedness in knowing that even if Noah and I never end up together, I will never deny myself something I want, even if that means falling in love with someone else.

It wouldn't be so bad. I could wait until the world had forgotten me and move to another city to start over. I'd meet someone under ideal circumstances, unlike how I met Noah. A mutual friend would set us up, and it'd be love at first sight. We'd properly date each other. We'd have a traditional old-fashioned relationship. I'd be with someone like me. Someone who was normal and had a safe and steady life plan. Someone who didn't take risks, just like me. Someone who never catches me off guard with what he says or does. And eventually, I'll forget about my feelings for Noah. Noah will fall in love with someone like him, someone who is energetic and takes risks, and keeps him on his toes. Someone who the media adores, someone who doesn't cause scandals. A safe choice. I'll be happy, he'll be happy, and we'll never think back on that one summer and wonder what might have been. All this to say, it wouldn't be the worst ending for my story. It's just conventional.

When the theater began to close for the night, I stood outside wondering if I should call a cab or if I should enjoy the night and walk home. A leisurely midnight Christmas Eve stroll may have been just the right thing to complete this night of rest. I knew the way. It wasn't a long walk, and the city's Christmas lights were stunning. There were no cars on the road with everybody at home with their families. It was an inky blue star-bedazzled sky, cold enough to feel like a winter wonderland but nice enough to walk and enjoy it. It was the first authentic moment of peace I'd had in such uncertain times. I had lost my sense of direction in my life, but I was okay with knowing that I could figure it out as I went, even if I did it alone.

Being alone is not so bad. I had spent many months alone throughout my life with Megan out of town, I had spent the last two days alone, and I was about to spend Christmas alone, but I was emotionally safe. So the horror I felt was unimaginable when I realized that I wasn't alone, and a man had been following me since I left the theater.

I realized it when I stopped swinging my feet as I walked, changing my walking pattern, allowing me to hear the other set of footsteps a few yards behind me. How could I be so stupid? How could I think it was safe to walk alone at midnight in the middle of the city? How could I not think about all the repercussions I could have faced? Of all the stupid things I've ever done, this tops them all because now I've put my safety at risk.

I think he knew I noticed him because he started walking faster, so I did, too. I knew I would have to fight my way out of this one, so I shuffled in my pocket for my house key, ready to attack. Once I had mentally prepared that this would be one of the scariest moments of my life, I heard a voice I hardly recognized say my name, and I felt a light touch on my shoulder. I turned around sharply, terrified of what I would see, but my breath escaped me when I saw it was him. And though I knew this was my chance to tell him everything, all the promises I had made myself were forgotten in a split second. All the progress I had made on learning to love myself and accept the blessings had been erased, all because after seeing his face, I was once again reminded of the guilt I felt when I broke his heart. In a single moment, I was right back to where I was because seeing him in person made me realize I had to write the ending of my story right then and there.