Aerial

The Third Chapter

"Next!"

You clamp your eyes tighter even though they're already closed, but it doesn't manage to block out the raspy, disdainful voice swirling like a sickening pea green funnel cloud in your mind.

"Can't exactly do much physical activity in an outfit like that."

Your fingers dig into the soft silk of your pillowcase before you gather the whole cushion and sandwich your head between its feathery, makeshift shield and your springy mattress.

A more distinct thunderclap this time, its finality pronounced within the slow, heartless decline of a single syllable, "next."

Following the shock of your exile that frayed each vulnerable fragment of rope hanging from your bones, the memory of Harry's pink wildfire licked the ends until your entire nervous system was consumed in flames. At first you were in denial that your opportunity for this position ended before it even began. It didn't feel possible that you'd flipped your entire life on its side for absolutely nothing but a shattered heart, but it started to take shape as soon as you swung the emergency exit door of the theatre open and collapsed into the grass outside.

After the fog of denial began to evaporate, anger set in and the thick, velvet curtain of red has refused to lift since. It now sits heavily on your polished stage, its taciturn golden tassels much too high for you to reach to begin to clear the scene for new thoughts or a plan of action. How dare he be so righteously bloated and contemptuous, sending off women who had frozen their entire lives for that audition left and right without so much as a two-minute conversation. You were beginning to feel sorry for the person who eventually is chosen to work beside him, forced to breathe in his snide air and trust their fragile life in his hands. Or maybe that was just your defensive method of self-preservation talking.

If Nettie had been there, she would have had some choice words to toss in his direction. She would have hugged you and told you that it was okay to cry, she would have helped you strap your skates to your loafers for a clean getaway, but instead you were left completely alone. Deposited into the freshly watered lawn with moisture wicking your skirt and underwear, the shade from the palm tree above your only comfort as you dug your fingers into the grass and pulled out two large chunks in frustration. The soil seeped under your fingernails and stunk of fresh sod, but it felt satisfying to hear the muffled tear of the blades and see the bald spots in the otherwise perfectly manicured landscaping.

You've never been one to cry during moments of difficulty; you were much too determined and persistent to allow your emotions to knock you off-balance. However, this situation was just thwarting enough to make you wonder if the universe was attempting to present you with a sign to reconsider your career as a dancer all together, and that notion alone was enough to draw a cluster of discouraged, unwanted tears down your cheeks.

War flashbacks of your last and possibly final performance slowly flooded your mind until you found it troublesome to breathe, your back meeting the soaking wet grass next as you slowly blinked at the bits of visible clear, blue sky through the fan-like branches of the towering palm. For a place that looked like paradise, it sure felt a lot more like purgatory in that fateful moment.

You stayed for a while until your hands pacified enough to reattach your skates for the second time that day, needing two breaks to ease your frustration and repress your discouraged screams. You cruised home at your leisure and wondered exactly how you were going to break the news to your roommate and then worse yet, your parents. They had been against the idea of you moving so far from home on your own, to follow through with such a risky and audacious statement as to completely abolish everything you've ever known on a radical whim and turgid hope.