Page 18 of The Breaking Pointe

prince charming

NOELLE

It takes a mile’s worth of turmoil to make me despise something or dislike a specific product or process. In the case of receiving mail, I used to love it. It always was a package, a letter, or likely anything to make me feel enthusiastic about being able to look in my mailbox or check my porch for a sign of something. The feeling motivated me and probably instilled a sense of expectation within my brain that receiving mail is always a good thing.

I have never disagreed with a statement more than that specific one now.

Now when I check the mail, it’s all reminders that I can’t keep affording the life I crave and have kept up for the past few years. The moment I became single again, only needing and relying on myself to get by, my bank account felt it. Being independent is possibly my most rewarding decision, but as rewarding as it may be, it’s humbled me more than I prepared myself for. Arguably,

it’s keeping me grounded, and I can accept that.

I also accept the sheer fear that I might not be able to make rent on my studio every time it’s due.

Last month I was able to scrounge up something with the last of my savings, just in time. This month, I’m wondering if they’ll let me be just a little bit late. Since shows have been scarce at the theater, my payouts have been nonexistent most of the time. You would think that working at the cafe would fill in the blanks financially, but it turns out that the hipster coffee culture has plummeted into its grave. The only visitors we get are old couples on the prowl for a feeling of youthfulness and young women hunting for an aesthetic feeling while they read their books. Instead of sitting, everyone prefers their hot cup of goodness on the go. Sadly, we’re just a little sit-down shop on a corner.

I still do it in hopes that maybe one of these days I’ll wake up to a sudden change. I’ll magically become wealthy enough to support whatever ideas and projects that I believe in, or maybe someone will believe me enough to invest in me. I know my odds are looking slimmer and slimmer these days. I’m praying they haven’t completely thinned out by the time my girls are all grown up and ready to explore the world like I was when I came to New York.

Some of these girls come to my class and it’s the only place they can be themselves without second guessing it. I try to make it affordable for the sake of knowing how hard it is to support your kids when it comes to their extracurricular activities, but it’s almost beginning to backfire on my end. The last thing that I want to do is have to sit down with all of them and announce that I’m shutting the company down. They wouldn’t know where to begin to understand why, and I’m afraid I just don’t have the

answers that they would want to hear. It would be unnerving, admitting defeat, and accepting that I failed them completely.

When they talk about their dreams, they use me as a model for their expectations. And even though they’re all children, the pressure is on. I’ve never carried a weight as heavy as such. It’s all I’ve been able to think about during class today, and especially now that class is over and I’m not distracted.

“Your mom is waiting, honey, so we need to hurry and put your coat on so we don’t leave her waiting,”

I say as I hold up a small, purple jacket.

Alexis, one of my youngest students, is always the last to leave. Her mom is a single mom, and she insists on working three different jobs, which I unlawfully commend her for, though it leaves little Alexis deprived of important core memories that she could be making with her mom.

Alexis pushes her little arms into each coat hole, bouncing around like she can no longer contain her energy.

“Okay,”

I kneel down, meeting her face at her level, “tomor- row, what are we supposed to bring to class?”

I ask her, fixing her jacket to be neatly draped on her.

“Coloring book and crayons. So that I have something to do after snack.”

She nods once, confident in her words.

“That’s right.”

I whimsically smile, examining her joy.

“It’s a ballerina coloring book, you know,” she says”

My new daddy got it for me after the wedding.”

Oh, to be a child with no pride or filtered dialect.

My face goes tight, feeling the urge to smile”

I can’t wait to see it. We’re gonna have so much fun,”

I assure her, grabbing her sneakers then her foot, taking her pointe shoe off.

Her hand falls on my shoulder, holding me for support”

Miss Elle?”

she asks after a few seconds of watching me tie

her shoe and move onto the next foot.

“Yeah?”

I bat my eyes at her quickly before focusing on her shoes again.

“Do you ever wanna get married? Like my mommy?”

she ponders aloud with hesitance.

She must want me to release all of my emotions and tears right here. Of course I do. Aside from ballet, being a mother and a wife are the next things I want, alongside being a teacher, of course.

“I do,”

I say, finishing her shoe as I stand up, looking down at her now as if she’s shrunken a few sizes”

But I’m playing princess right now, and it’s a long game,”

I say, a bit of laughter following.

“What does that mean?”

she asks, tilting her head.

“It just means that I haven’t found my Prince Charming yet, that’s all.”

I shrug, placing my hands on my hips.

“But why? You seem like a good enough princess to me,”

she insists, as if that statement had surely offended her and went against her beliefs.

“Well, Lexi, sometimes you can be the perfect princess, but there might not be a prince out there who can handle the good princess you really are,”

I respond.

How do you tell a child that relationships are bullshit, and men are despicably disgusting?

Watching her mother pull up in her silver SUV, I grab her hand to lead her to the front door”

But, Miss Elle, good princes know how to handle anything. Even when they’re really pretty and nice, like you. That’s why they’re good princes,”

she prattles on.

“You’re not wrong,”

I say, squeezing her hand”

Not wrong at all,”

I mumble my last sentence as we approach her mother,

who is patiently waiting outside of the car now.

“Hi, sugar,”

she says, picking up Alexis with ease”

Thank you so much, Noelle, you have no idea what it means to me,”

she expresses, looking at me with concern.

“It’s fine. It’s what I’m here for.”

I wave a hand, half smiling with my lips tightened together.

“We gotta run, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”

she says, putting Alexis into her car seat.

“Of course, tomorrow for sure. Same time as usual.”

I wave, looking at both of them”

Bye, Lexi,”

I say, watching her mother close the door and run to the driver’s seat.

Strolling back inside the studio, I get right to cleaning up. Lauren was supposed to be meeting me here to go to my meeting with me and possibly give me the boost to speak up, but with her hefty schedule, I’m becoming acclimated to her being booked, busy, and sometimes late. I’m scared to even attend. I can’t say that if I was on the verge of boosting my career somehow, I wouldn’t be doubling down on everything that I could. Every meeting, every overtime hour, and every opportunity would be mine.

As I gather little toys and miscellaneous items from playtime, I put each thing in a little chest in the corner of the room. I then make my way into my office, listening to the door open behind me, expecting Lauren’s authoritative voice to fill the studio and follow me.

“I’m in the office!”

I yell out, listening as the footsteps gain on me”

A lot of appointments today?”

I ask sonorously so that she can hear me.

Waiting for her response, I’m met with an uncanny silence instead, prompting me to turn around. The uncanny feeling spins into fear exceedingly as soon as my eyes catch wind of

who has actually walked in on me. A little hint—it isn’t Lauren”

I didn’t think you’d still be here so late. Thought you would be home by now,”

Daniel says grimly, standing in the doorway

of the office.

“Why are you here?”

I ask, stalling with a shaky tone of voice”

What do you mean? Damn, I can’t even pay you a visit now?”

he asks deceitfully with an astute chuckle, hellish enough to

make my skin crawl.

“No,”

I respond dispassionately, thrusting myself back into my workflow—this time needing to finish paperwork. The quicker I get done, the quicker he leaves, and maybe if I’m lucky, Lauren will save me somewhere in the meantime.

“So, let’s go over this,”

he scoffs”

You come to my match, upon my request, and you don’t even stay to talk to me. I was patient, but then you don’t even reach out after?”

His lips curl inward”

It’s been more than a month, Noelle.”

A great time without you hassling me, might I say.

“Yeah—did you ever think there was a logical reasoning behind that decision, Daniel?”

I twist my body around to face him, shooting my words at him as I do”

Or that maybe I don’t want to see you, let alone reach out?”

Without a moment’s notice, one of his hands is on my waist and the other on my jaw, hovering his dirty fingers across my face.

“That’s why I figured I would come here and give you a chance to redeem yourself from that brainless decision.”

He licks his lips with greed.

“I never said that I would speak to you. Nor did I specifically show up for you. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to not use free tickets.”

I fix my eyes on his gold jewelry dangling from his neck, continuing to avoid eye contact”

I’m glad I did. I got to

watch that Kennedy guy beat you like it was on his bucket list.”

“You mean he got lucky because I wasn’t at my full potential,”

he bellows, digging his fingers into my face, making my heart

feel trapped in my belly.

Fuck full potential. He’s full of shit and can never accept defeat. Colton won.

“You were fuming in that ring, and very obviously motivated by something more than your potential, Daniel,”

I say as I slowly reach for his hand to remove it from my face”

It doesn’t matter either way, because I don’t care who won. You need to go home, so that I can go home, please.”

Successful in freeing myself of his touch, I step to the side, attempting to walk away.

“We aren’t done talking,”

he says strictly, gripping my arm. My body flies back towards his space, stumbling into my desk on the way, but I grab hold of the edge to stop my trajectory. His grip on my arm proceeds to get tighter, feeling like the tightest blood pressure cuff in the doctor’s office is getting ready to burst around my limb. His face is now centimeters away from mine

while he huffs like a crazed bull, waiting for his next move”

Let go of me…”

I exasperate, failing at hiding my pain,

realizing that until this moment, I’ve never had to hide my pain in a physical sense. For the first time, he’s taking matters to a different height. Maybe hiding it wouldn’t be enough to save me, anyway. Broken up or not, I’m not ignorant to the fact that it doesn’t matter to him if he hurts me, because he knows that he can. He’s bigger, stronger, and I’m weaker.

“Not until you talk to me. You need to tell me why you think it’s okay to just ignore me like…like I’m New York trash or something.”

His grip becomes even tighter, as if that’s possible, as his tone becomes more sinister.

“I don’t owe you any explanation, Daniel.”

I clench my fists, attempting to muster up strength to escape his handling unsuc- cessfully”

Why do you get so mad…it’s always so unprovoked, and—”

My words cut into a gasp of air as he pushes me down, pinning my back against the top of the desk.

“You don’t listen. You owe me that.”

His eyes switch back and forth between mine as I begin trembling, internally begging for this moment to end, for somebody to see me in distress and be kind enough to do something.

“What is it? ‘Cause you’re acting brand fucking new, Noelle,”

he accuses.

I could say many words, but my entire body is ready to crumble. Any wrong word might cost me much more than just this.

“You found another dick to ride? So you feel confident now? Is that what it is?”

“No…no…”

His eyebrows lock at the top of his forehead as he mentally goes down the list of untrue scenarios he’s already thought up. That’s what he always does. I’m guilty of every accusation in his eyes, but he’s a saint that stands before God himself.

“You’re lying to me, Noelle. You’re even walking around with a different stride now! Don’t lie to me—I don’t like liars!”

he belts, holding me against the desk harder, assuring I stay put.

Taking one hand away, he looks beside me, placing it on an old music box.

My cherished music box.

I attempt to shift my body, but it’s useless. As if I could move with a two-hundred-pound man on top of me.

Buckets of tears are welling up in my eyes that I can no longer hold back. Abandoning his yelling crusade, his voice becomes quiet again, almost a grave whisper.

“What am I saying…”

His anger flips like a coin, revealing a sudden enthusiasm in my fear. He raises a hand to my hair, now caressing it, dragging his rough skin along mine”

Is that you couldn’t find another man to give you his attention, even if you were the last woman on Earth.”

Finally, he frees me, sending my body almost limp, picking up the music box as he steps away.

“Look at you…”

He takes a step back, shaking his head as if in disapproval of my very existence”

He’s gonna get sick of your ass—sick of this ballet bullshit and all your emotional breakdowns about you being so disgustingly insecure. You’re clearly letting yourself go.”

“Please, just give me my box…”

I whimper, struggling to sit up.

His head shaking turns into nodding”

You want it back?”

He smiles. “Here.”

He holds it out for me as I extend my arm.

Before I can reach it, he lifts the box above his head and throws it down at the floor with what looks to be all his power, smashing it into pieces.

“No!”

I scream, crashing to the floor with it as he laughs above me.

“Maybe you’ll listen next time. Right, Noelle?”

he mocks, pleased with himself.

There is nothing for me to add. I’m scared of him going further, of him being right about Colton getting fed up with me, and it’s like a million daggers right to the heart to be told it by him. He showed me how stupid I was to think I could get away from him. I’m still trapped under his thumb, no matter what I do. He will leave me alone, and because of that I have to remember this as I look down at my precious music box, smashed into a

billion pieces.

I bury my face deep into my arms, the strain shooting up my backside from the force of my body hitting the desk, my arms burning like hell as I do.

“You might as well just let him go, now, Elle. I’ll be waiting for you to call me, and I know you will. ‘Cause he ain’t me.”

Seconds after, he walks out the office door, and I hear him finally leave the studio.

All my tears are now miniature waterfalls, rushing down my cheeks as I push myself up from the floor and drag myself to my desk, throwing myself down into my chair. I stare at the small music box that was once put together by red wood with my initials carved into it. Taking the deepest of breaths, I play the audibly dated melody in my head.

“You’re strong. Not weak. Smart, and not stupid.”

My words rush into each other, interrupted with sniffles and whimpers”

Good, and worthy.”

This music box was my therapy. It’s a piece of my parents that I never got rid of. And even though Daniel tried to take that from me, he failed. Even though I’ve been trying to fix it for years now, I couldn’t seem to do anything to make it sound or play the way it once did when I was a child. It’s damaged, just like me.

That’s why I love it.

“Noelle?”

Lauren enters the room with a soothing aura, knocking on the door, jumping back as she sees the mess.

I nearly jump from my seat, still shaken from what happened. I quickly gather myself, stopping the music box as I grip it tightly”

Are you crying? What the hell happened in here?”

Her face distorts to a more concerned expression as she rushes over to

me.

“I’m fine.”

I smile, wiping my face”

I just got upset. I

dropped my music box.”

I give her an automatic response.

She stares at me, not believing me at all. But instead of asking further, she looks down for a moment, biting her tongue.

“Elle, I’m sorry. You love that thing. Lemme help you clean up?”

I nod again, stuffing the box back into its drawer before standing up.

Never would I ever tell Lauren. It’s my mess to deal with, but the mess was never this big. I’ve never been assaulted in such a way that it drives me to want to be mute before considering telling what I went through. Suddenly there was escalation, and just as quick as it began, it was over. And he gets to walk away like the day is new.

Here I am, left to think about more traumatic events for however long my brain decides to fixate.

Who’s to say I’ll find an escape from this one, though.