Ballerina

July

I saw the same nightmare every time. It wasn't really a nightmare at first rather just a piece of a memory. It turned in to a nightmare towards the end. I was a second grader or maybe third. I had a pale pink skin and very light colored hair, almost white. I wasn't necessarily fat but a little round. My mom would call it baby weight and that I would quickly grow it out. Anyway... I was a second grader and there was a race. I tighten my shoelaces and put a double knot. Just to be sure I don't trip. Teacher starts to yell:

Get ready

Set...

When the teacher shouts out GO I run. I have never been so quick. I run like I have axe murderers behind me. Finish line is getting closer, others behind me leaving behind. I win. I will win the first race ever. I will get friends now, become popular. I will win... Then I turn into a little piglet and fall to my face.

- Was your tummy in the way ? Someone asks.

- Anthony FatTony ! Anthony FatTony ! Echoes through the sportfield.

I never have to calculate any sheep. I just close my eyes and hear the same thing over and over again. It has the rhythm like an old fashioned train. Listening to that is the best and worst sleeping pill. Anthony FatTony Anthony FatTony...

- Anthony!

I heard my sister's voice coming through the thick curtain of sleep. She's pulling off my blanket.

-Hey! Give me back that. What are you doing? Get out!

- You are late, she says opening the curtains.

- Late from what?

- Have you forgot? The ballet show you've been talking about the last month and you tell me you've forgot all about it?

- Oh shit!

- Oh shit indeed.

*

Ballet. A blessing and a curse really. It wasn't my hobby at first. I just went along with my sister, wasn't old enough to be left home alone. I remember it so clearly. At the car mom is telling me to find a hobby for myself.

- How about some sort of sport?

- I'm not good at any sport.

- But there's plenty to choose from.

- No.

- No is not an answer. You need to figure something out.

And then my sister's ballet teacher told me to be part of the class cause she didn't want me to just sit around. And something just clicked. The ballet teacher told my mom that she should let me start ballet. I had the flexibility and determination. When we got home mom sent me and Anna, my sister, to upstairs. She would have some things to discuss with dad. Our parents fought a lot. Usually about money and mom's unemployment. I sensed fight in the air. I went upstairs play teaparty with Anna. We were each other's bestfriends. We only had a year between us. Soon I was eavesdropping at the door trying to keep Anna quiet so I could hear what mom and dad were talking about downstairs.

- A ballerina?! Are you seriously telling me that my son should become a ballerina?

- The right term is a ballet dancer.

- What ever it is it means pink tricos and tutus. Girly stuff.

- Anthony is lonely! And I don't want him to be home alone when Anna already does ballet few times a week. This would be good for him. Anthony can always stop if he wants to but maybe we could let him try.

- I really don't like this idea at all.

- Why don't we ask him how he feels about it?

- Lets'go get the boy downstairs.