Time Echoes

The Echo of Normalcy

      "Here hon" Rachel handed me my coffee when I slid in the back next to her. The strong smell met me before she handed it to me. I took a big whiff before I took a sip and sighed happily. I prefer my coffee strong and black, with just a hint of sweetness. I like freshly brewed. The reason for that is because I prefer it bold and aromatic, just like how my mornings usually are. I was never a coffee person, but when I started having late night shoots, Rachel got me on it and found out which one was for me. I smiled at my best friend. "Thanks Rache. You're the best, as usual."

      Rachel Bennett and I have a bond that goes beyond us working together. She's been my best friend since childhood and has been by my side since I had moved to Milan. She was the one who pushed me to try out at a local competition after noticing how I was losing myself after my hopes of becoming a professional ballet dancer went out the window. I spent hours and hours of grueling pain perfecting my technique so much that no one could copy me.

      I was obsessed with the way everyone was so beautiful and graceful. The discipline of it, the art. It intrigued me in every way possible. It was absolutely breathtaking. The hours I had put in, and my training paid off when it earned me recognition in my local dance community. The dream I had of joining the prestigious ballet company, La Scala. Everyone praised and cheered me on, telling me there was no way I wouldn't get in. Carla Fracci and Alessandra Ferri: two ballerinas that took my breath away when I saw their videos, were my inspiration.

      Things were going well during the audition, perfect even. Until I landed, and my ankle betrayed me, causing me a permanent injury. A torn ligament that required extensive rehabilitation and ultimately the dream of being in this company vanished without a trace. I was devastated at the age of 11. Can you imagine how that is for a young girl who trained and had her own style? Multiple trips to the hospital for ruin feet, torn off toes nails, bruised feet to the point I had to crawl to get to where I needed to.

      When I was lying in the hospital , the director came to check on me. Before leaving , I had to know. I needed..to know. "If...if I didn't have this injury, would I have been accepted?" I had asked before he left. Riccardo Muti looked uneasy and hesitant to respond. "Please." I swallowed. "Please tell me. I know it won't change anything, but I just need to know if I was good enough to be at that amazing school. I need to know, so I can move on."

      He scratched his head before he sighed and looked back at me. "Yes. Claire, you are phenomenal. So phenomenal for such a young teen I have seen in a while. You breathed ballet. It breathes you. The way you are with it, and y'all combine, you would have been submitted to the school. It's a pity that this injury had to occur. You are outstanding. Don't let this get you down."

      After that, I was depressed. For years. I had no interest in anything. Nothing made me happy. I lived every day on auto pilot, not having any emotions at all. I was detached. A shell. Until Rachel came along when dad had moved us here.

      This girl had smooth cocoa skin that glowed warm with any light. Skin that I wanted over my olive complexion, thanks to me being part Italian. She was the first to talk to me. The first to get me to open up. Something even my dad couldn't do. She had captivating hazel eyes, flecked with shades of green and gold that seem to sparkle with energy and intelligence. She had curly tendrils of dark brown hair that was often styled in loose waves that flowed over her shoulders with pure simple elegance. Her smile was so infectious that you couldn't help but smile at her. She has straight white teeth that complemented her warm and engaging personality. She stands tall with a graceful posture, oozing confidence and a natural charm that draws people to her effortlessly.

      This little girl, at the age of 14, was brutally honest. She never sugarcoated things. She told it like it is, whether or not I told her not to. Rachel had a sharp mind that navigated through the complexities of out world with ease, but it was her genuine warmth and unwavering loyalty that drew people in. She has a knack for seeing beyond the surface. She could read my thoughts before I could speak them, and knew exactly how and when to push me out of my comfort zone and when to give me space to breathe. Her laughter was beautiful, capable of lifting my spirits on even my darkest days.

      My insecurities and fears, she saw through them. Gently nudging me to confront them head on. Rachel with her keen eye for anything, said she saw my potential. She said she always believed in my beauty and charisma. All the time, she would say she saw something special in my presence, and the way I carried myself, traits that Rachel knew would shine on the runway. It was when Rachel had hit the age of 17, when she had found an ad for a local competition. She had been following the news of the fashion trends and the industry news.

      Rachel always said that I had natural elegance and photogenic qualities and encouraged me to give it a shot. I was beyond hesitant. I didn't think I was beautiful enough for that world. That is when she looked at me like I had grown five heads and pulled out her phone to show me photos that she had taken of me. "Not beautiful ? Why do you think that? You always told me you hated your skin, buts its absolutely beautiful. You have a warm olive complexion that carries hints of golden undertones, giving you a radiant glow that seems to shimmers in the sunlight." She had flipped to another photo, one of me laughing with my head thrown back slightly.

      "This photo? Even with your head thrown back, which isn't usually a flattering angle, you are different. You look more free, happy. Makes anyone wonder what made you laugh so brightly so they can smile with you. Experience anything that is pure. You hate being mixed with white , African and Italian. But babe, your facial features are a blend of enchanting. Mesmerizing even. You have expressive almond-shaped eyes with a deep soulful brown hue that mirrors your African roots. I don't see why you'd want to fit in when you yourself are a goddess." She softly touched my eye lashes. "They are framed with those naturally long and dark eyelashes that add depth to your gaze. Eyelashes that I have seen people kill for and pay millions just to have these done."

      She then showed me another angle, one where she zoomed in on my face, showing I was lost in thought. "This photo highlights your gently sloped nose, a feature that reflects your Italian heritage, that compliments your full lips, which have a natural pinkish hue. Then your hair, dark and lustrous, which you wear in loose waves or sleekly straightened, showcases its natural volume and shine. your overall facial structure is so well-balanced and symmetrical, it enhances your beauty in a way that can pull any of those around. Your figure is lean and athletic, showcasing your dedication to fitness. "

      She put her phone down and grabbed my hand. "With all due respect, you're fine as hell Claire. You don't see what I see when we pass people. You turn their heads the moment you step into a room. With all these photos that I showed you, do you still think that you're hideous? Your looks are so well blended that's its alluring. It's almost bewitching how quickly you get people attention. As your best friend, I want you to go out there. You've been down even with you opening up and becoming more lively. I know you missed ballet even after all these years. But give it a chance. You might actually like it and grow to love it. You won't be able to replace the art of ballet, but you can find a close second." She threw her arms over my shoulder. "And you're lucky because I get to be your manager!"

      Rachel was more then just my best friend and manager, she was my anchor. My life line. She kept me grounded in this whirlwind of the industry. . Rachel, her strength was in her vulnerability. In her willingness to share her own struggles and triumphs. In her presence, I found a safe haven where I could shed the layers of fame and expectations, where I could be just Claire.

     "Claire!" I felt a pinch on my arm and opened my eyes wide at her. "About time ! I thought I was going to have a whole conversation to myself on the way there." She eyed me suspiciously. "What was it that took you to a different planet?" Today Rachels dark hair was pulled back into a sleek pony. She wore a chic blazer over a simple white blouse, exuding an air of effortless sophistication. I smiled and shook my head. "Just thinking about how blessed I am to have you as a best friend." I linked my arm through hers and leaned on her shoulders. She laughed as she linked our fingers. 'Same here, babe. Same here."