Shy

Clara- Epilogue

I fall back on my dressing room sofa, absolutely exhausted. If you had told me four years ago that I would have the chance to study the thing that I love, be lucky enough to get a job with a major ballet company, rehearse 6 days a week and perform on stages all over Europe, I'd have laughed in your face.

I sit up, glancing at myself in the mirror. I assess my face, smiling at my reflection.

My baby face has gone, replaced with a mature, defined shape. My lips seem plumper, my eyes brighter and my smile wider. I've grown into my figure more, my hair slightly shorter but still just as blonde. I look different, but in a good way.

Our current show is The Nutcracker and tonight is opening night. I fondly look over at my costume. Just as I did years ago, tonight I'll be transforming into Clara, the dream-dancing girl once more.

I reach for my makeup but pause, a knock at the door interrupting me.

I open the door and step back, a peal of laughter escaping me as I take in the enormous bouquet the stagehand is holding.

"Clara Taylor?" He asks and I nod, taking them from him.

I close the door gently, placing the flowers down on my dressing table. They're a beautiful mix of red and white carnations and I smile widely, plucking the card from the centre.

I open it eagerly, always ecstatic to read what he has written to me.

The words flow effortlessly, like music being played and I smile to myself as I read, all the while twirling the ring that takes pride of place on my left hand. He never misses a show, and tonight is no exception. He'll be in the audience, just as he was all those years ago.

He sends his love, as always, and when I take my bow this evening I'll know all the distance, tears and waiting was worth it, because I'll have the sweetest prize waiting for me at the stage door.