In The Shoes Of A Ballerina

Chapter 9

The sound of the waves hitting the shore was the best wake-up call Dea had ever heard apart from Gabriel’s ‘I love you Babe’, of course. She smelled the aroma of her favorite breakfast – an omelette with cheese and chopped green and red bell peppers.

“Breakfast’s ready!” called Gabriel by the door. He approached and kissed her, “Morning, Babe.”

She smiled. “Morning. I’ve had that same nightmare again, Babe.”

Dea referred to the same dream that kept haunting her for several consecutive days now. The dream always had her as schizophrenic, that she killed the beautiful man in front of her, and that she was a failure to the ballet industry.

Gabriel’s brow suddenly creased.

Dea held his face. “I’m okay, Babe. I instantly forgot about it when I heard your voice, and when I knew you cooked omelette.” She laughed. “Let’s eat. Where’s Gabby?”

“Where else would he be?” Gabriel let out a laugh. “He’s already building figures in the sand this early.”

The couple walked to the terrace overlooking the sea.

It had been months since Gabriel had closed a big deal in their company which paved the way for them to afford this high-end looking house designed by Gabriel himself.

“Gabby, wash your hands. Let’s eat first.” Dea’s husband ordered.

The boy followed his father to the nearest tap outside their house, and cleaned his hands.

They ate like they were the happiest family on earth. Times like these were precious to them since the couple was, most often than not, busy with their own works.

After eating, they began swimming on the beach. Swimming was just in time since summer was approaching. The two of the most important boys of her life were in shorts while she was in a two-piece swimsuit. She looked like she hadn’t been pregnant because her body was still petite and no skin was sagging.

Dea considered this moment one of the happiest in her life. She swam farther and farther while her husband was chasing after her. She stopped only when she felt someone pull her from below. It was so strong she couldn’t do anything but raise her hands. She couldn’t shout for help because every time she tried, the force would pull her, and she’d end up swallowing the seawater. She tried opening her eyes, searching for Gabriel.

He was gone.

The fine weather turned to gloom, bright clouds turned nimbus, wind becoming strong.

Dea had a glimpse of the one drowning her. It had the same flaxen hair and bright smile. It was Cassiel. Why?

 

“Cassiel… don’t… pull… me… down… please…,” Dea managed to say while fighting the strong force in the waters. “Cassiel.”

“Andrea? Andrea?”

Dea woke up being shaken by the doctor.

“Thank God you’re awake,” he said.

She was given a few seconds to catch her breath before she was given a glass of water. “Thanks.”

“You okay now?”

She nodded.

“Who’s this Cassiel? You kept calling the same name in your dreams.”

Dea didn’t know what to answer. They don’t know about him, and I won’t tell this doctor anything, she thought.

She shook her head, instead. She sat up straight, and aimed to stand up. “I’m sorry, doctor, but I’m busy with the rehearsals. If you’ll excuse me, please.”

Dea started pacing but the doctor held her arm. “You’re not a ballerina since twelve months ago,” he told her with emphasis in every word like he was telling her to go back to bed because she was sick.

Dea looked confused. “But I just performed The Nutcracker—“

“You performed it here in this room. See that bruise?” The doctor pointed her left ankle. “You bumped on to your bunk while performing what you call as glissades.”

She couldn’t do anything but look down. She didn’t know herself anymore. She couldn’t remember anything.

“Now, whoever that Cassiel is, he’s not real, okay? Okay?” the doctor repeated when she didn’t nod the first time. “Someone’s here to visit you. Come with me.”

Dea was led to the room intended for visitation. There weren’t much people inside yet she couldn’t make out names. She knew no one except for the two pairs of eyes looking intently at her.

“Gabby!” she said while running toward her son. She couldn’t contain the happiness she was feeling seeing him and her mother.

Her son did the same until they met halfway. “I missed you, Mom.”

                Dea noticed that Gabby grew a lot in height, and his facial structure almost resembled his father’s. It made Dea cry while hugging him. “I miss you a lot, Gabby. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she said in between her sobs.

                She felt her son rub her back. “I understand, Mom. I understand.” He was now crying too.

                Dea knew he didn’t. Gabby was too young to understand about these things, she thought. He just wanted to make me feel good.

 

                Dea spent two hours with her family. That involved her mother convincing her to undergo a neuropsychiatric treatment. She said, “Okay.”

                She knew she had no choice but to agree. She also saw it as the only way to make up for all the bad things she did.

                She entered a restricted area where she was welcomed by people in white gowns. She lied on the bed, and right then, they attached things with wire on her temple and some parts of her body which were connected to a huge machine beside her bed. Before she closed her eyes, she saw the silhouette of her mother and Gabby on the screen window above the restricted facility.