The Pursuit of Perfection

4: Flattery and Black Swans

I didn't get out of bed Friday.

Or Saturday.

But on Sunday I went to the gym at two in the morning. So maybe I technically went to the gym early Monday morning.

And guess who walked in three minutes after I arrived.

Harry.

He looks at me and then walks toward whatever machine he's decided to use this night. He doesn't say anything.

This only brings back all of the unpleasant emotions from Thursday night and I have to work to keep my thoughts on the task at hand. My stretches.

I get about fifteen minutes before Harry starts talking to me.

"So you're just going to act like nothing happened?" Harry asks me.

I look up at him. "Isn't that what you want?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" He asks, taking a couple steps toward me.

"I mean, that's easier." I say, shrugging, "Isabel's a bitch, you found it out, and now, with my silence, i release you from wasting your time with me."

Harry pauses, "You know, that's not at all what I think."

"Enlighten me." I say.

Harry walks over and then squats down next to me. "Isabel is very interesting, and I'd like to talk to her, but for some odd reason, I must offend her, and I'd like to know what I said that was so terrible that she had to run away from me."

I look at him. "It has nothing to do with you."

"It's not you, it's me," Harry mocks.

I sigh.

"Look, I know I technically don't know you, and so I don't really think I'm allowed to be this pissy about you not wanting to talk to me, but I am." Harry says, sitting back.

I cough, and then I reach down and massage my calf muscle. Harry is watching me, and I am keenly aware of this.

"So you're really not talking to me." Harry asks.

I peer up at him, "I don't know what to say."

Harry sighs. "Okay." He stands up and walks away, back to the weights, leaving me on my mat with sore calf muscles.

I feel like crying again. I look up at the ceiling, willing gravity to take the tears back into my ducts. When I feel safe I go back to contorting myself in all kinds of stretches, pushing myself to the limit, daring my body to break instead of bend.

"You know," Harry says to me after I finish running an I'm about to leave. "You shouldn't be walking out on the streets alone."

"Then walk me home." I say, surprising myself.

Harry looks taken aback, but instead he shrugs and grabs his things, following me out the door.

We walk in silence for a block or two.

"So, tell me one thing I should know about you." Harry says.

"I am a ballerina." I say.

Harry smiles, "I'm a painter."

"How's that going for you?" I ask.

Harry lets out a short laugh, "It's not. But it's all I want to do, so I'm going to stick it out until it starts going for me."

"I understand that." I say.

"How's dancing going for you?" Harry asks.

"Good." I say.

We pass a large group and one of the people calls out to Harry.

"Harry!" A male voice yells.

Harry stops and I pause, wondering what he's doing. "Hey Caleb, how've you been?"

I see a girl eye Harry up and when he looks at her she smiles in a way that lets me know they're friends, or they know each other, or something.

"Good, what're you up to?" Caleb asks him.

"Just walking a friend home." Harry says, gesturing toward me. Once again I feel ugly next to the girls near Harry.

Caleb nods at me and I give him a tight smile.

"Why don't you stop by later?" Caleb asks Harry, "We'll be up all night."

"Maybe," Harry says.

"That's a no." Caleb says, "Whatever, we'll catch up later?"

"Yeah, see you," Harry says, waving to him and walking to me. "Sorry about that," He tells me.

"It's fine." I say shrugging.

We walk along quiet. I feel Harry's hand brush against mine. I look down as he tentatively intertwines his fingers with mine. When I look at him he's looking at me.

"Do you really have no idea how beautiful you are?" Harry asks me. "You really have no idea why I would've wanted you to come inside Thursday?"

"You just want to flatter your way into my pants," I say, pulling my hand away from his.

"No, I don't." Harry says. "I just want to know you, and sure, I'd like to touch you, but that's not it."

I study his face and he watches me intently.

I look away and we pass by the house that I've seen him at, and past the alley way that harbored the scary noises from the other night, and all the way to my apartment complex in silence.

I turn to look at Harry, unsure of what to do or what to say.

He pushes my hair behind my ear and leaves his hand on my face, he leans in and I retract, pulling away from his touch.

"You don't know what you're doing," I tell him.

"What?" He asks.

"You don't know me." I tell him.

"I'd like to." He says.

"No," I assure him, "You don't."

And with that as my parting words, I leave, climbing the stairs up and away from Harry, who is stuck on the ground floor.

***

"Still tight." Jesses tells me. "What are you stressed about?" He asks.

Everything.

"Nothing," I say. "I have nothing to be stressed about."

Jesse is quiet and then he walks over and puts on the music to the Black Swan Fragment in Swan Lake. He begins dancing the male part and I find it easy to pick up Odile's part.

I've danced Odette/Odile many times, and this dance is familiar to me.

It does not take long before I'm enveloped in the dance, in the tempo, in the steps, the movement. The piece is over far too soon.

When I stop I see Jesse smiling at me. "That is what I need to see you doing."

I pause and nod my head. He plays the music and dances as all the characters that are vital to my specific choreography.

I try to think of nothing but the way the music sounds and the steps I take.

When the music ends I look to Jesse.

He's smiling for the first time after I've done this dance.

"Much better. Actually, that was good. We've got some improving still, but yes, that was what I need you to do."

I sigh out of relief and nod my head. "Then this is exactly what I'll do."