The Pursuit of Perfection

1: Welcome to New York

"Hannah is our Carabosse," The casting director of Sleeping Beauty for a small stage in New York City, calls out, naming us off one by one, who gets the parts, and who gets to leave this room empty handed, or with a part they don't want.

I can tell Hannah is upset. I never met her before a month ago at our first audition, but I can tell she's not one who likes not being a lead.

But who am I to judge? Neither am I.

"James, Prince Désiré" He calls out.

I try not to fidget, or look to nervous. This would be my third ballet in New York, and I've landed the lead in the prior two, I hope I don't ruin my record now. I remind myself that we're down to Aurora and the Lilac Fairy. I tell myself that I won't get the Lilac Fairy, that I'll get Sleeping Beauty.

Then I look across the room at the girl I have felt has been my real competition this whole time. Her name is Whitney Gregor, and she's half and inch taller then I am and looks much more lithe.

Suddenly, when he calls someone name Fallon Dawson to be the Lilac Fairy, I fear that I might leave this room with nothing.

I tell myself it's not a huge loss, I'd only have one dance.

But I'd have the dance.

The Rose Adagio has been claimed to be the true test of a ballerina. And at every performance of Sleeping Beauty there are scouts, managers, and people from other ballet's watching the dancer during this dance.

This would be my chance.

"Lastly, but most importantly," The casting director calls out, smiling, leaving us with anticipation, "We have Aurora."

"I'll have you no this was no easy decision," He says, "But we are all happy with our choice." His eyes find mine and I'm not sure whether to feel relief or fear. "How old were you when you danced in Romeo and Juliet?"

"Seventeen." I tell him, wondering how he knew my roles from when I danced in Minnesota, on small stages with no prestige in a town that did not care at all for the arts.

"Someone on our team liked you enough to look you up, and Isabel, your performance as Juliet sealed your fate. Welcome to the cast, Aurora." He smiles and me and I feel myself grin.

I don't give myself time to feel bad for Whitney, because this might be my chance. But I accidentally catch her eye on the way out, and I feel the disappointment within them resonate deep inside me. I look away and try not to think of it anymore when I walk home.

But I can't.

When I close my eyes I see that look. Haunting, nagging, suffocating. What makes it worse is that it's not her eyes I see. It's mine.

***

A twenty four hour gym was one of the first things I secured for myself when moving to New York. Odd hours were no stranger to me and I need something to be there when I needed it, and at two in the morning, I needed this gym.

I was usually alone. Most people who pay for a gym member ship either, one, don't use it, or two, go at normal hours of the day.

But tonight I walk in and see someone else. They make eye contact with me and I feel like I'm intruding. I look away and set my bag down. My head phones go in and I start running.

I always start with cardio.

I run for about a half hour, by that time I think that the other person must be gone. So I take my headphones out and sigh, pausing the machine. I'll run again, but for now I need water.

I hear the clank of metal against metal from across the gym and realize that the stranger is still here. I look over at them, and I see that they're sitting up now, on the weight bench, looking at me.

He's got long dark hair, and he's looking at me. Once again I look away. I move over to an empty area and lay down a mat. I drop into a split and lean forward, resting my forehead on my leg and reaching my arms out to touch my toes.

It's tight, and I know it's because I was stressed today.

When I lift back up, maybe a minute later, I see him looking at me unabashedly.

"Hi," He says, "I'm Harry."

I look at him for a moment. I debate on responding. It's almost three in the morning, I don't know this man, and he could be dangerous.

I don't respond. I decide that I should leave.

But I can't.

I haven't done an hour of cardio.

I need to do an hour of cardio.

I pause, feeling flighty but torn.

I look up at Harry who is watching me, waiting for me to do something.

"What do you want?" I ask.

Harry raises an eyebrow. "Want?" He uncrosses his arms, "I gave you my name and that must mean I want something?"

I open my mouth to respond but he doesn't let me.

"Alright, I want to go to Hawaii, and I'd also like a million dollars..." He trails off and I just watch him, listening, because I know there will be more. "I want a G - Wagon...and to have some of my art in the MOMA...maybe to live in a nicer apartment, you know so I don't have to worry about waking up and having my house have been robbed..." He pauses and shrugs, "I mean, there's more, but that's what I can think of right now." He raises one finger at me, signifying that there's something else, "I'd also really like your name."

I roll my eyes. I'm amused, but I don't want to show it. However I put my may back down and get into the same position I was in previously, except this time with the other leg. I sigh, trying to relax every muscle in my body. I close my eyes holding it.

"Alright, fine," He says, "Fair enough." I hear his footsteps and then that same tell tale sound of metal against metal.

I go back to running after completing all my usual stretches. I run for forty five minutes, all the while Harry is still here.

I see him leave just as I begin to pack up.

"Have a good night, stranger." He calls out to me as he walks out the door.

I smile to myself and hoist my bag over my shoulder, walking out in to the darkness of four A.M.

I see him still sitting in his car, looking at his phone, and I walk past him to get to mine. He looks up and rolls down his window, "Same time tomorrow?"

I raise an eyebrow and roll my eyes.

"I'll take that as a maybe." He decides.

I shake my head and get into my car, driving the distance to my apartment complex, and going up to my room, before falling asleep.