Page 22 of Slow Burn

‘You’re perfectly capable – it’s just that I know it’s the last thing you’d want. And I’ve never known you to do anything you don’t want to do.’

‘Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?’ she shouted.

‘Do not yell at me!’ I replied, even louder than she had.

This was all getting way out of hand. My emotions were suddenly veering dangerously out of control and, although I willed myself to stay strong, to stand my ground, my throat tightened as I felt the tug of tears.

I absolutely did not want to cry in front of this lot, because then they’d know how much they were getting to me, and I had a sort of desperate need to maintain my reputation as the together, reliable member of the family.

The fixer; the good girl. Except that nothing about the way I’d handled this felt good.

I’d said things to Sedi that I’d only ever thought in my own head, and I wasn’t surprised she was angry, because I should have just asked her to help instead of accusing her of being selfish now, years down the line.

It wasn’t hers or Nolo’s fault that they’d had it their own way all this time – it was our parents’ place to say no to them on occasion. And, I supposed, mine.

‘Let’s talk about this sensibly,’ said Dad with a huge sigh.

He hated things not being in order, and that included emotions.

I knew that, and he was trying to calm things down in his own way, but I couldn’t see how he could, because it felt like my whole career was at stake here.

My happiness, my life , really. And I had a point to prove that they just did not seem to be getting.

‘Shall I start by telling you how all of this happened?’ I suggested. ‘And then you can carry on vilifying me if you still want to.’

Mum huffed and grumbled, but she did take a seat, and Dad perched on the arm of her chair.

‘I’m waiting,’ said Mum, crossing her arms.

I proceeded to tell them the whole story – about Carlos, his audition, him catching me dancing. That Gabriele was looking for a particular connection with a partner – that we knew each other vaguely from the World Championships. I obviously missed out the mind-blowing sex bit.

Afterwards, they seemed a little appeased – at least I hadn’t gone chasing it, they said, that was something; the job had literally presented itself to me, had dropped into my lap.

‘We thought you were happy here at the studio,’ said Dad. ‘We didn’t think you wanted to dance anymore.’

I bit my lip, wondering how much to say; how honest I could be.

‘I am happy. But I’m also wondering if I might also want… something more?’

‘Well then you should have spoken up!’ said Mum. ‘You’re making us sound like terrible parents.’

‘Of course that’s not what I’m saying,’ I said, raising my voice again.

What was happening to me?! ‘And yes, I am partly to blame. I should have been more open about how I was feeling. But it’s not like I’ve been faking it this whole time – I really enjoy running the studio.

And you have to admit, I do a good job.’

I looked at them, daring them to say that I didn’t. Mum nodded reluctantly.

‘Of course you do. And we appreciate it, we always have.’

Okay, this was good. We all appeared to be calming down.

‘But I’m still young enough – just about – to do something else with my life. And I miss dancing, I miss it with my entire soul. You know how that feels, I know you do. And now I’ve got this chance to do this exciting thing and I couldn’t turn it down,’ I explained.

Hopefully, in a minute, somebody would say congratulations.

That they were proud of me, pleased for me.

But the longer the simmering silence went on, the more I realized that they were too worried about how this would impact them to celebrate my good fortune.

My being cast in a show was nothing more than an inconvenience.

Mum and Dad stood up, followed by a disgruntled-looking Sedi.

I wasn’t sure how long we’d all been bickering, but if it was close to one, there was a good chance Gabriele could rock up at any moment.

He’d have no idea what he was walking into and I didn’t want him knowing how difficult things were for me – I thought he’d probably find it all quite pathetic.

I doubted he was afraid of telling his parents exactly what he did and didn’t want to do.

‘We’ll leave you to it, then,’ said Mum.

‘I think that’s best,’ I said. ‘Oh, and it’s press night tonight, if you wanted to come, Sedi. Shall I put your name on the door?’

She shifted uncomfortably, her gold hoops sparkling in the light.

‘I had made other plans,’ she said, huffily.

I was seriously lost as to what I was supposed to have done to her .

Why was she acting as though I’d wronged her, when all I’d done was follow my dreams – something she’d been doing since she was old enough to talk?

I felt sick as I watched all three of them leave with none of the usual hugs and kisses.

I’d never seen them so angry with me – and I’d never been so mad at them .

I knew it must have come as a shock, but I couldn’t believe they hadn’t been even the tiniest bit happy for me.

Exhausted by the effort of trying to keep it together, I took Sedi’s place in the armchair, where finally the enormity of it all hit me.

I tried to take a deep, calming breath, but instead it turned into a sob, and then another, and before I knew it, I had tears streaming down my cheeks.

I’d get up and find a tissue in a minute, but for now it actually felt quite cathartic.

Maybe trying not to cry when you felt shit wasn’t good for you after all.

I was wallowing so much that I wasn’t aware of the studio door opening until it was too late.

‘Lira? What is wrong?’

Gabriele strode over to where I was sitting, looming over me with a look of concern on his face. He crouched down so that his eyes were in line with mine and I squirmed under his gaze, not wanting him to see me like this. I must look horrendous.

‘I’m fine,’ I said, sniffing wildly. ‘Honestly.’

‘You do not look fine,’ he quite rightly said, rummaging in his bag and pulling out a packet of tissues before thrusting one into my hands.

I took it gratefully, wondering how I could blow my nose with him staring at me – hardly an attractive sight, was it? I dabbed at it instead, which, of course, had little to no effect.

‘Want to talk about it?’ he asked softly, his brow creased with what I could only guess was sympathy. I hadn’t thought him capable of such an emotion, so if anything useful had come out of this mortifying episode, perhaps it was the knowledge that he did have a heart after all.

‘Not in the slightest,’ I said.

I wasn’t one to get emotional in front of other people, preferring to use my dancing as a way to express how I was feeling.

But even if I had been that way inclined, I was pretty sure that opening up to Gabriele Riccitelli would be the last thing I’d consider.

There were several reasons for that, the most pressing being that it felt important to keep him at a professional distance.

Our working relationship already felt fragile and precarious.

If I suddenly started blubbing to him about my personal life, who knew what might follow?

I jumped up, brushed myself off and excused myself to go to the bathroom where I hoped I could compose myself, and as quickly as possible.

‘Back in a second,’ I called to Gabriele, rushing into the inner echelons of the studio, glad to be away from his sweetly worried face.

The James Jive bathroom was a spotless, calming space with large full-length mirrors – a necessity for any dancer – and nice toiletries that I’d persuaded Dad to spend a bit extra on because they gave the studio’s facilities an elevated feel.

I ran the cold water and put my wrists under the tap, cooling myself down. Then I splashed my face with water, hoping to flush away any sign of tears.

I wasn’t sure what I was crying about, anyway – my family’s reaction had been just as I’d expected. Perhaps, though, somewhere deep down, I’d hoped that they would prove me wrong.