Roguish Women- Tommy Shelby

The Art of Tolerating Pain

//Sorry this is so late. I started watching some ballet to inspire me and then that led to Russian ballet and then down a rabbit hole I went. Suffice to say Youtube now thinks I'm a ballerina and won't stop recommending me videos on how to pirouette when I haven't danced since I was 13. 

            The floor looked freshly polished. Light from the floor to ceiling windows caused the hardwood to gleam. And the floor was so expansive. There was so much space with very little furniture to get in the way. It had been so long since she had space, room to move around, stretch her limbs.

She'd been raised in the city. A poor girl in a poor neighborhood, Kate was accustomed to the claustrophobic nature of living in the heart of any city. Every day she went to her neighbor's house and warmed up by pushing the furniture to the walls so she could have enough space to practice. Even then, she often bumped into things.

Then she auditioned for the ballet company in a studio downtown. One with a proper barre and proper flooring. She had never danced so well.

When she first danced on stage, it felt like the whole world was hers.

Then the feeling was taken away and she retreated to her small spaces. A small flat in Paris. A crowded dressing room where she would stretch. The dancefloor packed with dancers and patrons. Her small flat in Birmingham, the banister used as a barre. Then finally back to Boston, ever the familiar feeling of being suffocated.

Now, she stood in the ballroom of Arrow House. Suddenly, she was offered all this room and for a second she didn't know how she would fill it all.

A bit timid, Kate walked in and set her ballet shoes down on the well-kept floor. A gramophone had been brought in, at her request and was waiting in the corner by the windows.

She went to the gramophone and found a few records piled neatly on the cabinet against the wall. She hadn't specified exactly what music she wanted, but instead just said anything classical. Shuffling through the records, her heart soared when she landed on Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. Her neighbor would make her practice to the music nonstop, insisting Kate was destined to dance the swan's role.

After warming up, Kate carefully tied her shoes, the motion so familiar it was as if she never stopped dancing at all. It wasn't particularly comfortable getting back into pointe, but she knew she needed to work through the discomfort.

She returned to the gramophone and started the record. Although she couldn't remember the number in full, she could pick out a few moves that she recalled. And it seemed the years of dancing at the Moulin Rouge and stretching in her little flats had paid off somewhat. She felt as flexible as she was in her prime. And she had remembered the techniques her neighbor barked at her for hours on end.

When she felt brave enough, she tried a fouetté. It proved to be a bit too much and she stumbled on a turn. Catching herself, Kate couldn't help but let out a small laugh at what her neighbor might say if she had been there.

"Weak! Again! Do it right or do not do it at all!"

Kate smiled to herself and tried again. It was still shaky, but much better than before. When she stopped, she noticed Tommy was standing in the doorway of the ballroom.

"Oh, Tom, I thought you were out." She felt her cheeks go a bit red as she went over to turn off the gramophone.

"I just got back and heard music in here. I was hoping I could catch a bit of you dancing." He walked in.