by Kimiko
“Robert, darling! How are you?”
“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.”
“Still scouting for fresh talent then?”
“Yup. Though there’s not another in the world like you.”
“I see your preference for flattery hasn’t changed. That sounded like the same words you used the first time you approached me.”
“It worked, didn’t it? I got to be your director.”
“Yes, until I wised up and left you.”
“That’s one side of the story. I’d like to say we had a fun adventure together.”
“Sure, darling. We had our moments.”
“Remember when we celebrated your birthday? You were all smiles that day because you just finished your first act two nights before.”
“Three nights before.”
“Close enough, right? We had a little get-together and sang Queen songs all night.”
“It’s funny how you can be such a great coordinator and a horrible singer.”
“You weren’t much better, remember?”
“That’s rich coming from you, darling.”
“Even if you were in the background then, I was proud of you.”
“Please. No need to soften the blow. We all know I was terrible.”
“Just nerves. A fluke.”
“Ha! Tell that to reviews! I swore they singled me out!”
“They didn’t know nothing. I stood by you, even through that. I believed in you. Still do.”
“I’ll never forget that. And I’m grateful, darling.”
“And after you left me, you soon became Ms. Prima… Prima-something-or-the-other.”
“Prima ballerina assoluta. And it’s Mrs. Leighton now.”
“Mrs.? You got married?”
“Geez, you make it sound like I can’t socialize. Besides, that was two years ago.”
“Come on. You would take the world on stage as the prima-whatever and chug a bottle once you were backstage. You were late to every show, you shot down all interviews, and you fired every partner you had. Always. It was your ritual.”
“Hush now. Like I said, it was two years ago.”
“You still look good.”
“Of course I do.”
“How do you ballerinas stay so tiny anyways?”
“So, Robert, how about your—“
“You know, I always liked the way you danced. Even if you never gave me tickets to see you and they burned a hole in my pocket whenever I bought them. Everybody’s eyes were on you when you were on stage. Everything that you did was always like silk. So floaty. A real ballerina. You were perfect as long as you were dancing.”
“Only when I was dancing, huh?”
“You’re quite lovely now.”
“Nice try, Robert.”
“Though I really did think so. I still do. Ever thought about going back?”
“Robert, please. Could we just—“
“Because dancing is in your blood. You were a star once. You can still do it now. Okay, I know you had that nasty fall that one year. But you recovered since then, right?”
“Robert, it was two years ago.”
“You could become an instructor even. Pass on your knowledge to the next generation. You can’t let that talent go to waste. It’d be a right shame.”
“Do you even hear yourself when you talk, Robert?”
“I’m serious. You’re not destined to be a run-of-the-mill housewife. You are a born dancer. Don’t you try to deny it. I know somebody who can get you back into the scene if you just say the word. Snap your fingers even, and I’ll make it happen.”
“Well, this has been a waste of my time.”
“Whoa, calm down. No need to get hasty.”
“Just a nasty fall: is that how you saw it? Robert, this is why I never gave you tickets to any of my performances. You may be in the dance business, but you just don’t get it. Maybe your heart did once. But not anymore.”
“I know how stupid it would be to walk away from the offer I’m presenting you. Think about it.”
“Read my lips, Robert, because my answer will be the same. I will never dance again.”
“I read the report. The doctor said nothing major was broken. You have a clean bill of health. Everything is okay for you to go back to ballet. There’s no reason why you can’t do it now. You’re still young.”
“Was young.”
“And you still are. Come on, don’t leave yet. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Okay, Robert. I thought I came here today to share a meal with someone outside of my neighborhood that I remembered liking. A human being. Not my old director. But your one-track, stupid brain just can’t comprehend that.”
“You didn’t have to say it like—“
“Do you want to know how that fall felt like to me? It was like the end of everything that I stood for. All those hours of training and broken toenails, all those days of saying no to a night with friends and matching my tempo, all those nights of sleep I missed and dreading each step I would take on stage. Everything was ruined in just a few seconds of bumbling failure. Everything.”
“Everyone fails at one time or another. You’re overreacting.”
“No, I’m not. It helped me see what I really wanted.”
“To be a nameless nobody?”
“Fame is not the same as happiness, Robert. Ever heard that one before?”
“Yeah, by losers. And you’re no loser. You have the obligation to do something about your life. I can give you the chance if only—“
“No chance.”
“You’re delusional.”
“And you don’t know when to quit.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“No, Robert. I know what’s important to me now. What has always been important to me. I just didn’t see it until I had time to think in the hospital.”
“You’re making a grave mistake.”
“I’m defending how I want to live. When has that ever been mistaken?”
“You’re walking away from the biggest show of your career.”
“My career ended a long time ago. And revivals are so cliché.”
“You’re never going to shine on the stage again.”
“Good riddance. Now I can sleep in and binge-watch all the shows I’ve missed over the years.”
“You’re… really decided about this?”
“I live with my dream husband, and I have no credit card debts. Anything else?”
“You’re… really decided about this.”
“Robert, darling, I’ve never taken you to be a parrot. The years must have changed you.”
“…You’re not going are you?”
“I thought we were finished here. Unless there’s something I missed?”
“…You still wanted that meal, right? It’s on me.”
“Yes, of course, darling. That would be lovely.”
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