Page 40 of The Breaking Pointe

fake smile

NOELLE

He’s never late. I look at the clock every minute, but it doesn’t change anything. I still do it, anyway. If I tell myself enough times, I know he’ll walk through those doors so that I don’t have to feel like I’m doing this alone. I know that it’s last minute, but that’s never seemed to matter to him. Until now.

He’s either growing sick of me, or this secret excursion of his is something extremely different.

I try not to think he’s hiding Daniel’s behavior behind his kind ways, but I’m always waiting, just in case I’m right—and I usually am.

If he told me what he was hiding from me, then my reason to worry would wash away. If he would tell me where his time is going, when it’s not spent with me. I understand how unhinged that idea is. So I don’t say anything, because that’s what caused all my fights with Daniel. My vital need to explain myself and have him do the same in return wasn’t not an exchange that he

ever wanted. In fact, he never wanted anything that I wanted. He liked watching me beg for his listening ear and attention, that I still never got, even after asking a million times. I suppose that’s why I don’t have the will to ask Colton for the same.

Being in relationships could be my weakest quality. This could be my sign that I’m unequipped for not only Colton, but any man. With any partner, there’s a great chance that things aren’t split evenly. The exchanges aren’t there when it’s their turn to give. They either will or they won’t. I don’t have enough energy to make sure they will.

Or this is my largest overreaction yet.

The shimmering of the mirrors in the studio reflect not only all the beautiful, young, sweet girls before me, but the weight of everything they’ve ever worked for. I feel heartless. There’s a stone lodged deep within my chest, and the warmth of tears threatening to spill over are beginning to boil at the ducts. Every scent, scribble on the wall, and spec of glitter stained into the hardwood are now merely reminders of all that we had created together. They’ve inspired me more than I inspired them.

With laughter echoing off of the walls, you’d think there was no bad news ever to enter this building. How far from the truth that is.

The girls chatter amongst themselves, sitting in a big group on the floor—some standing with their parents—but all of them blissfully unaware of the tragedy I’m waiting to unleash. Their little voices are so achingly beautiful and pure, and it only makes my heart hurt more. The worried chatter above them, between a few adults and belittling expressions from certain parents, makes me feel like the size of a grain of salt. Like they all know something is amiss and they’re just waiting for me to fail. Sucking in a deep breath, I force a fake smile that feels more

like a large mask than anything.

“Okay, everyone, may I have your attention for just a mo- ment?”

I call out, my voice trembling slightly.

The room gradually falls silent, the giggles and whispers replaced by curious gazes—innocent, wide eyes look back at me, waiting for something magical to unfold.

Ironically, my next words are going to be far from sparkly. They carry a weight too heavy for my shoulders.

“I have some important news to share, regarding the letters I sent to your homes. I know there’s a lot of questions and unanswered concerns,”

I begin, the quiver in my voice betraying the composure I am so desperately trying to maintain”

As you know, we’ve worked so hard together, dancing, learning, and sharing many wonderful moments…but…”

I struggle to form the next words as they catch in my throat, as if they’re a tangled knot.

“But the company, and the studio, will be shutting down.”

The following silence feels like a vacuum, sucking the air out of the room. Confusion flickers across faces, the little ones trying to understand, while the parents exchange angry comments. A few of them simply look disappointed in me, scorning me with fiery eyes as I fight against the hurricane of emotions rushing over me. Each heartbeat in my chest gets louder—reminding me of all the hours and passion I’ve spent here, just to be a disappointment. Mostly to myself.

“This is not easy for me,”

I continue, my voice softening”

I love all of you girls so much, and it breaks my heart to say goodbye like this, but it’s something that I have no choice in.

Scanning over each girl, my eyes stop at one, sitting in the very front with her bottom lip wobbling as she clutches her beloved stuffed bunny. So badly, my hands scream at me to reach out to

her and take her in my arms, to tell her that we can still hang onto our memories. I wish I could wrap my arms around them all and protect them from this harsh reality.

At last, the dreaded tears stream down my cheeks, unbidden, as I finish”

I wish things could be different. Thank you for all the beauty you’ve brought into my life. You will always be in my heart. I promise.”

The room that, for so long, was filled with such substantially happy times, now pulses with a collective sorrow, and anger— and a shared farewell to a chapter that meant so much to the girls and I.

“I…”

My voice wobbles”

I set out snacks and drinks. One last time. You’re all welcome to stay and let the girls play for a while,”

I add a last announcement before standing up and walking to a table near a corner to hide my face.

I listen as people help themselves, turning to take a glance while standing like a child in time out.

Watching a line form, my eyes take to the front door as Colton walks in with battered cargo pants, a hoodie decorated in paint, and a bandana pulling back his curly hair to match it. He looks around, finding me with a worried expression before making his boots hurry over to me.

“I got your message late. I’m sorry,”

he says dearly.

I look up at him, then down at the floor, my crossed arms turning into a self-hug, squeezing my eyes closed.

I finally break, sobbing, completely and fully”

Noelle, I’m sorry,”

he says, repeating himself.

Suddenly my head is against his chest and his arms are cradling my shaky body.

“They hate me,”

I say between whimpers.

“No. They do not hate you. Nobody here hates you,” he says,

crushing my words with his”

You did what you could.”

“It wasn’t enough,” I argue.

“Hey.”

His hands raise to my cheeks, both of us ignoring whatever paint and debris lie upon them”

You’re enough. That’s more powerful than anything.”

For once, I don’t believe him. If I did enough, this wouldn’t be happening. I wasn’t enough to keep my main responsibility going. I don’t think I can barely to start from the bottom all over again. Although he cares, he doesn’t see it through my eyes. My point of view isn’t seeing anything hopeful, and I don’t think it will for a long time now. I thought Daniel was my biggest setback, but I’ve topped that experience with this one.

When is he going to grow tired of me? I stay with him because I secretly need him just as much as he needs me, but my mind is more than sure that this too shall pass. His love for me is here now, but it will pass.

Everything good seems to keep passing me by, anyway.

* * *

The rest of the week has plagued me to sit in the marinating guilt and wallow. All I can think of is how my routine will now be changed, every day. Coffee shop, New York City Ballet training, and sitting at home, thinking of a way to dig myself out of this deep, dark hole that I shoveled faster than I expected.

In most instances, I can hide the dark cloud above me, but it’s storming where my spotlight shines, and it’s making it hard to hide anything. I’m drowning. It’s supposed to be a new year— for new beginnings. So why does everything feel like it’s ending for me?

What hurts the most is that I actually know why. I only wish

that it wouldn’t be happening again, as soon as things got better. I’m cursed with bad luck.

“After thinking about it, I guess the smarter decision would be to sell the house,”

Colton says above my shoulder”

New Year’s Eve, and I’m already making executive plans for next year.”

I bring myself back to reality to respond, but I can’t think of anything to say. My mind wants to remain disconnected.

The last time I ignored Daniel, I was in the shower, too. Strange coincidence.

“Noelle? Hello?”

he adds, giving me a gentle pat against my skin.

Frozen, I look at him with my eyes and say, “I think you should talk to Steven.”

He exhales a long wind through his nose, flaring his nostrils and nodding.

As the water rolls down the skin of my arms, I watch the steam rise over the curtain and waft around in the air. Colton’s hands dangle around my body as his head rests on my shoulder, swaying us at a slow, steady pace. Since we’ve gotten back to New York from Christmas, I think I might miss my parents more than I did before leaving. I can’t get out of my own head. It’s a very similar feeling to the last time I visited, except I was with someone I now despise. Colton makes it better, but he can’t heal what I think about when I’m alone. It’s why I wouldn’t sleep alone when we were there. I’m sure he thinks my mind was on a sexy Christmas hookup, but the truth is, sex was the distraction from my body welcoming a night terror sent from the devil himself.

“You excited to get ready for the Spring Gala?” he asks.

He’s trying to make me talk about anything other than what’s bugging me, but I won’t do it.

I won’t talk about what’s wrong, either. I won’t talk.

“Elle, the silent treatment is kind of killing me, baby…I get it if you want me to shut up,”

he whispers, kissing my shoulder.

Now his voice appears to be upset—or possibly annoyed, and all together over me and my weird behaviors.

It’s me, and I know it. It’s always me. At least Daniel would say it.

The kisses feel like a tactic to convince me that I’m better off changing my mind and spilling my guts for him, about everything that’s causing me to pull away.

I’ve been expecting this to happen. It was bound to at some point. I’ll never be capable enough to bring myself to tell the man who makes it all go away, that I’m never really better. I lied. I’m never really, truly free from the memories that are Daniel. It still feels like he can see me. Even in this bathroom, behind this curtain, with Colton on standby. There’s almost nothing that I do, where there isn’t a memory of him being there, still. I can’t even take a peaceful shower with my current boyfriend.

All I can think about is all of his favorite things to tell me.

You’re not embarrassed of how heavy you are?

Make it stop.

You’re so fucking annoying, you always cry.

Make it stop.

My God, can you do anything right? Why would I even think you were capable.

Stop. It.

You’re so fucking delusional, get on the floor. Beg me, bitch.

Stop it—just stop it.

I told you to get the fuck out the shower, bitch!

“No! Get off me!”

I scream, prying each of Colton’s fingers from my wet skin, throwing him off of me and falling to the

puddled, shower floor. Scattering, I crawl to the nearest corner, bringing my knees to my naked breasts as I harbor my head in the space between my kneecaps and chest, squeezing my legs until my hands start to sting.

I can hear the patter of his bare feet, splashing toward me and stopping in front of me. He stoops down to my level, sitting. I can see him in the space between my legs.

“I’m not going to hurt you,”

he whispers through the loud water shooting out of the shower head.

“Please don’t touch me,”

I say, hidden like a critter as I tighten my squeeze on my legs.

He keeps his hands to himself, chewing at his bottom lip with a sigh. His bottom glides against the floor, sliding himself beside me and staying quiet.

“I don’t want to leave you alone. I think I know what this is. I don’t think it’s me, but I don’t know for sure.”

He pauses, gathering more words”

I’m comfortable in silence, if that’s what you prefer. I’ll wait, and wait, until you tell me to leave,”

he says, sounding dedicated—promising even.

“Just stay. Be quiet,”

I tell him, shutting my eyes and focusing on the sound of the water hitting the cement and pebble design below us.

He hums in acknowledgment before silencing himself.

He’s becoming too wondrous of what I’m feeling. This is what I wanted to avoid. From the beginning, I knew that if I allowed myself, I could fall into the trap that is love. He makes love feel real, but what if it’s a hoax? Why does he care when he could have a normal life? He could leave me behind and have anything he wants, with trauma and complications sold separately.

Just because I saved him, doesn’t make it okay for him to save me. I can do it all myself. I have with everything else.

Because, ultimately, being alone is better.