Perfect (53 page)

winter heart, when what

you

must do to salvage

your sanity is forget her.

What Have You Done?

Tempted fate once too often. Tempted

the wrong man. Dangled

your bait in the wrong place, and the wrong

fish took it right off the hook. Oh, Jenna!

Why couldn’t I save you?

Why couldn’t I make you love me enough?

You lie here, sleeping. The bandages can’t

hope to hide all the damage

to your face. But it will heal eventually.

I wish I could be that optimistic about your

heart. I want to touch you,

but I’m afraid even the slightest caress

will cause you pain. I close my eyes, lay

my head on the bed next

to you. The sheets smell of bleach. But lingering

beneath the Clorox is a faint scent of rot.

Is it from your bloated

wounds? Or is it decomposing dreams?

As If Hearing My Thoughts

She stirs. Her fingers test my hair,

recognize it.
Hey.
Her

voice is raspy.
Thanks for coming.

I lift my head, look into the slits where

her eyes must be. “Welcome.

Just so you know, you look like crap.”

Better than how I feel, then. Guess

you know what

happen …
the rest is swallowed by

a coughing fit. “Stop talking for once

in your life, would you?

Yes, I know what happened. I’m sorry.”

I should h-have l-listened …
and now

she’s crying, at least

I’m pretty sure she is. It’s hard to tell.

“Doesn’t matter now. What’s done is

done, as my grandma

Grace always used to say.” The thought

of her, overseeing my childhood, sears

my heart almost as much

as seeing Jenna like this does. “Listen, now.

First things first….” Another Grace-ism.

“You heal up. Once all

those stitches come out, my mom wants to

see you. She’s a regular wizard, you know.

Making girls beautiful

is what she does best. You can skip the boob

job, though. Yours are perfect, as is.” I stand.

“I should probably go now.

Let you rest. I’ll come see you again soon.”

W-wait. You never told me about your

audition. Wha-what

happened? Are you going to Vegas?

I Sit Back Down

“Okay, I’ll tell you the story, but only

if you’re positive you

want to hear it, and only if it won’t make

you too tired.” She gestures for me to go

on. “The show isn’t quite

the cattle call that some of them are.

They solicit auditions from some of the best

dance studios in the country.

Which means it’s extremely competitive.

Liana choreographed an amazing routine

for Shantell and me.

We aren’t going to Vegas—yet. But we have

been called back for a second audition.

Out of five thousand

dancers, we are in the top one hundred.

Our next audition is in Los Angeles in

three weeks. Liana thinks

both Shantell and I have a decent shot.”

Jenna does her best to touch my hand.
I’m

re-really happy for you.

Know what I think? That you’re going to

Vegas. Kn-know wh-what else? I’m glad

you have the guts to go

for your dream.
All the talking is tiring her.

“Tell you what. If I make the top ten, I’ll

make sure you have tickets.”

I whisper-kiss her forehead. “And don’t worry.

Jazz isn’t nearly as boring as ballet.” Her

eyes close, and I think

she must be asleep again, so I start to leave.

Psst,
she says, eyes still closed.
Know what’s

bad here? No alcohol.

But know what’s good? Killer drugs.

What I Didn’t Tell Her

Is that I still haven’t decided whether

or not I’m going down

for that second audition. One of the judges,

this brilliant Broadway choreographer,

totally loved me, at least it

seemed that way. He gushed about technique,

and when he found out I’ve only been training

for a relatively short while,

called me one of the greatest natural talents

he’s ever seen. Not sure if that was meant

for the camera or for real,

but I may have a very good chance of finishing

in the top twenty. Which means they’d want

me to do the TV show.

Just appearing on
Now This Is Dance
almost

guarantees work, and I’m just not sure that

dance can take me where

I want to go. Liana says don’t even worry

about all that yet.
You’re awfully full of

yourself, aren’t you?

was actually what she said.
You haven’t

even made it past the second audition,

and you’re already

worrying about how to spend your prize

money and organize your tour schedule?

One step at a time,

Andre. Now, let’s work on that solo.

Prize money wasn’t even on my radar.

Maybe because I never

expected to get this close. Shantell, however,

was not surprised.
God, Andre. What did

I tell you? When some

snooty choreographer says you’ve got an

incredible natural talent, you get all excited,

but when I told you the same

thing, you thought I was blowing smoke?

You have to do this. It’s a once-in-a

lifetime opportunity,

and if you don’t, I swear you will be

sorry. You can always go to college,

but if you decide to

leave dance behind in favor of school,

you may never come back to it. You’ll

end up in some dull

career, with a bucket full of regrets.

Shantell wouldn’t dream of
not
going

for it, whatever

the outcome on the far end. Maybe that’s

what I’m
really
worried about.
Not
winning.

Not succeeding. I’ve

never failed at anything. Except Jenna.

She’s Sleeping Now

Off someplace too deep to dream in, thanks

to the morphine drip

fed into one of her veins. Good drugs, indeed.

I wonder if this girl can be saved, and why

she won’t save herself.

“I love you, Jenna.” I know she can’t hear

me, and maybe that’s for the best. “Bye, baby.”

One thing I do know

is that I can’t watch her self-destruct anymore.

I glance at the big clock on the wall. Almost

two. I’ve got a lesson

at three. With Shantell, who will be after

me to make a decision. God, hospitals stink.

All the cleaning they do

can’t erase the dirt of sickness and death.

I don’t look into open doors as I head for

the elevator. Don’t want

to consider what’s on the other side. Instead

I look down, counting tiles until I reach

the bank of elevators.

Just as I get there, a set of doors opens,

and who walks out of them but Kendra.

And her father. Oh shit.

“Hello, sir,” I say, hoping for civility.

His face goes all red, and hatred feeds

his ugly glare.
You.

This is because of you, you goddamn—

No!
Kendra stops him cold.
This is
not

because of him, Dad.

It’s because of you!
It’s
your
attention

she wanted, just like when she was little.

You left her, Dad. Me

too. Left us for …
She shatters. Sobs.

Her knees buckle, and I move forward

as she starts to fall.

But it is her father who catches her.

His eyes, wild just a few seconds ago,

soften.
I’m sorry.

Then, to me,
Go get someone. Please.

I turn toward the nurse’s station, but

someone is already coming.

Can’t make a scene like this without

being noticed. By the time the nurse

gets to us, though,

Kendra has reached into some reservoir

of inner strength. She is on her feet,

pushing her father

off.
I’m okay. Let go. Sorry, Andre.

“It’s all ri—,” I start to say, but she is

already on her way

to Jenna’s room. Mr. Mathieson follows

without a good-bye. The pretty nurse

looks at me and

I shrug. “Just another day in paradise.”

Cara

Paradise

A concept embraced by almost

every culture. A land of peace

and harmony. Some say it

doesn’t

belong to the earth, that there

is no Shangri-la, no utopian

wilderness for the living.

Only

heaven. Elysian fields. A House

of Song. Afterworlds where

the righteous dead

exist

forever in a state of pure

bliss. But I wonder if there

isn’t some blessed place

for

souls in search of the sacred

path. Hungry souls, and lost.

The souls of those who aren’t

believers

yet reach for redemption,

in ways small and large.

Those who love and ask for love.

Love Is Chocolate

The unprocessed kind. Dark. Bitter.

But always with the promise of sweet

perfection. All it takes is sugar—

that certain someone’s kiss, flavored

with possibility. If Dani has taught

me anything, it’s that life is brimming

with possibilities. Every single day

brings choices. Make a bad one,

you deal with the consequences.

Make a good one, you get a reward

of one kind or another. Bad choices

or good, if you never take chances,

someone else will build your life

for you. What if you decide you don’t

like their vision? What if they put you

up on a pedestal and you hate the view?

I’ve never been much of a thrill seeker,

mostly because I’m afraid of falling.

I’m eyeing the mountain. But I’ll never

climb it with my parents calling the shots.

Possibilities. Choices. Decisions.

Influencing my own fate scares me.

But it’s better than the alternative.

I think. Right now, the future stares

back at me, posturing. Challenging.

Graduation is two weeks away. June

was supposed to be my escape, but I

wish I could hold on to May just a little