Fading (4 page)

"I love it, Jared. Thank you."

He rubs on a glob of cool ointment and adheres a bandage over it. I grab his hand as he helps me sit up.

"Here," he says and hands me a sheet of paper. "This will tell you how to care for the tat as it heals. If you notice anything unusual going on, call me."

I nod and tell him, "Will do. Thanks again."

Roxy grabs Jared around his waist to give him a hug. "Come over later?"

"Yeah, I get out of here around six," he says before leaning down to kiss her. "See you girls later."

"Bye," we both say as we head back over to the coffee shop.

Holy shit! I cannot believe I just got a tattoo. My act of rebellion is thrilling, and I like the energy that flows through me. I could get used to this excitement.

"
I still can't believe you got a tattoo, and I'm still pissed that you did it without me," Kimber says.

"Honestly, it was a spur of the moment thing," I say as I sit on the floor and unpack my dance bag. I have been living in the studio for the past few days. Classes are about to start, and I want to make sure I'm prepared and on top of my game. Kimber had been upset when I told her about my rare act of rebellion, but she's since calmed down.

"I am so excited that you are coming out with us tomorrow. I'm not sure what has gotten into you, but I like it," she says as she sits on my bed and watches me as I rub baby powder into my pointe shoes and hang them on a hook in my closet to air dry.

I start stripping off my sweaty clothes. "I don't know. Roxy just finally got through to me, I guess. She's right; it's time to start having a little bit of fun."

I hear my phone chime, and I walk over to my desk to read a new text.

"Who's that?" Kimber asks.

"It's from Jack. I haven't heard from him since we went out last Friday."

Kimber jumps off the bed and is quickly hanging over my shoulder to read his message.

Got plans tomorrow night?

For some reason Thursday nights are big nights to go out around here. The bars and clubs are always packed.

"You should ask him to come with us," she says as she smacks my bottom and walks out of my room.

I sit down at my desk and text him back.

Going dancing at Remedy with some friends. You should come!

Remedy huh? What time?

Around 10:30.

Meet you there?

Yeah. See you then.

I hop up from my chair, excited about seeing him tomorrow, and throw on some clothes. I make my way to the kitchen to fix a salad. While I'm chopping some veggies, my phone begins to ring. I pick it up to see that it's my mother.
Crap.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hi, darling. Look, there is a banquet this Saturday, and I am being recognized for my contributions to the Children's Foundation. I need you to be there," she demands.

I know she only wants me to attend for appearance's sake. One supportive, happy family. It's such a lie.

"I can't, Mom. I have to work that night."

"Well, take off," she says as if it's no big deal.

"I can't ask off work three days in advance. It doesn't work that way." I get so annoyed by her lack of consideration.

"Christ, Candace," she barks at me. "This is important. I don't even know why you have that little job."

"I like working, Mom. I'm sorry, but I just can't go," I say in the softest tone I can manage because I know she's about to flip. This is so typical of her.

"I swear, I don't know how to deal with you. You are such a selfish little girl. Here you are, playing around in college on your father's dime, and you can't even choose a respectable major. It's quite embarrassing. Then, when I ask you to do something to support me, you blow me off for some trivial job you don't even need. Where is your loyalty to this family?"

My face heats and I slam the knife down on the hard granite countertop. "Support you? You always want me to support
you,
Mother. What about supporting me? Shit, Mom, you have never once attended any of my shows. I work my ass off. You have no clue what it is I am doing here. I'm sick of this shit. I'm never going to be good enough, am I? What do you want from me? Please, just tell me so I know exactly what I need to do to make you fuckin' like me!" Disconnecting the call, I throw the phone across the counter. I am beyond pissed. My heart is racing, and I try to slow my breathing so I can calm down.

"What's with the screaming?" Kimber asks softly, knowing I rarely ever lose my temper.

My eyes begin to sting, and when I turn around to look at her, the tears start to fall. I feel so hopeless. I've fought with my mother my whole life, and I have no idea why she is the way that she is. She knows exactly what to say to me to set me off. I know it's only a matter of time before my dad calls to smooth things over and make excuses for her.

Kimber walks over and wraps her arms around me. "What happened?"

I let go of Kimber and wipe my face with the backs of my hands. "My mother. She went on another one of her tirades and thought it would be fun to belittle me. She just set me off, and I couldn't hold it in."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"Not really. I think I'll just take a quick shower and call it a night."

"You sure?" she questions me with concern.

"I'm sure."

Kimber heads back to her room, and I bag up the vegetables I was cutting and put everything back in the refrigerator. I can't even think about eating when I am this upset. I pick up my phone and decide to turn it off for the night so I don't have to hear it when my father calls. After a hot shower, I start to relax. I know I should probably check to see if my dad has called, but I don't have the energy to deal with it tonight.

Waking up the next morning, I'm surprised that I'm still pissed off about the fight I had with my mother. I throw the sheets off of me and walk over to my dresser. I pull out a pair of cutoff knee-length sweats, sports bra, and a loose fitting grey tank top. I get dressed, grab my dance bag, and throw in my pointes. After brushing my teeth and pulling my hair up in a messy bun, I go to the kitchen to grab a breakfast bar. I toss a couple bottles of water and an apple into my bag and make a cup of coffee to take with me. Throwing my bag across my chest, I head out to my car.

When I walk into the studio, I drop my bag onto the floor. I walk over to the stereo, plug in my iPod, turn up the speakers, and hit play. I sit on the floor with my legs stretched out, and I lower myself between them and begin to warm up my muscles. The melodic strains of Yann Tiersen's 'Comptine d'un Autre Ete' fill the room as I begin to stretch.

Feeling warm and loose, I grab my bag. I start taping my toes and stuffing my toe pads with new lamb's wool. Sliding on my pointes, I lace the ribbons around my ankles. This is what I love about ballet—the familiar rituals.

With the music filling the room, I grab the barre and begin to work. I start the very methodical routine: pliès, tendu, degagè. Feeling my muscles stretch, I continue to work the rest of the exercises, freeing my mind of all my stresses, and focusing on nothing but my turnout, posture, lines, and movement. Hearing the box of my toe shoes thudding against the worn wooden floor and the gliding of the shredded satin as I work my feet is soothing. I love this feeling of pure focus. Sometimes it's nice to shut out the world and be completely immersed in dance, feeling like there is no life beyond the walls of this studio. It's freeing.

After an hour or so, I end my barre work with grand battement, working on my high kicks. As I finish, I begin to feel slightly light-headed. I sit down and grab my water, downing it in just a few seconds. I remove my shoes and tape, lie on my back, close my eyes, and breathe. I know as soon as I walk out of here, the stress of my mother will creep in. So I just lie on the floor.

After leaving the studio, I sit in my car and call my dad. I just want to get it over with. I talk to him on my drive home and the conversation is the same as always. I apologize to him for my outburst, and he makes excuses for my mother. The conversation couldn't have ended any sooner. I was done with it.

'The Edge of Glory' by Lady Gaga is blaring throughout the house while Kimber and I get ready for our night out. I'm looking forward to seeing Jack, which is a bit odd for me because I never really take that much interest in guys.

I pick out a pair of cute white shorts, a sleeveless satin hot pink top with a white Moroccan pattern, and a pair of nude pumps. My hair is down in soft, wavy curls. I apply some lip-gloss before Kimber and I head out.

We arrive at Remedy, and the place is already packed. Kimber and I walk in and find a few of our friends sitting at a small group of couches that are set off from the dance floor. We make our way over to greet everyone. When I find Jase, he takes my arm and drags me to the bar with him.

"You thirsty?" I ask sarcastically.

"Not really. I just saw Mark," he says as we slide onto our barstools.

"Isn't that the hottie you used to see that plays guitar?"

"Exactly." He eyes me with a serious look. The bartender approaches, and Jase orders us four shots of tequila and two beers.

I shoot him a questioning look and say, "Okay, spill it. Clearly you're into getting drunk, so tell me what happened."

The bartender sets the drinks down in front of us, and Jase slides two of the shots and a beer my way. We clink our tequila shots together and down them quickly.

"He caught me kissing his roommate," he confesses.

I start laughing at him and take a swig of my beer. "You can be a slut sometimes, you know?"

"Trust me. I know," he says and hands me the second shot. We sit there for a while and continue to talk and laugh. Warm arms wrap around my waist, and I turn my head to see Jack standing behind me. He looks good in a pair of worn jeans and a simple black V-neck shirt.

"Hey, Jack," I say. When I stand up, I feel the effects of consuming the shots so quickly. Plus, I haven't eaten a lot today.

"Whoa, you okay?" Jack questions as he grabs ahold of my arm.

"Yeah, just stood up too fast." I turn to Jase and introduce the two guys to each other. When I sit down, Jack does as well and orders us another round of beers.