Love From Sammy (Dance Academy Fanfic)

To The Girl Who Flies

Dear Tara, 

Don't worry, I'm not a ghost, or a spirit, or a reincarnation, of any of that other stuff I know you like to fanaticise about. You’ve always liked stories, as have I, and it’s something we’ve both shared. You see, I don’t think anybody else realised that we dance purely to escape. To be in your own body, and yet still out of  it, is something I feel we live for. As you may probably know by now, something is going to happen to me, and I don't want to leave things untied, or in a mess. It's strange how I always create messes, even without meaning to. Between us, I think we always thought that I was the logical one, scientifically sound, and you were the one to wreak havoc, letting your heart lead and your head follow. I know you've been in crazy messes because of that huge heart of yours, but I also know that you have solved many problems with it too. Some of them being mine. 

You see, to me the world is so overly complicated. We step out of the door, and so many things could go wrong. I could crash into someone, a plant pot from a balcony could crash and fall on my head, I could be hit by a car. I go to the studio and every move I make could be sharp, or soft, or powerful, or flawy or exaggerated or barely there. To me, I can't ignore all these possibilities, and sometimes they get overwhelming, because I have so many choices, how will I known which one is the right one? I don’t know what to do- Until I look at you, and you are executing your movement perfectly. With grace, ambition, power, you are everything right. Suddenly, the buzzing of possibility goes numb in my brain, and the answer is clear to me. This brings me to the memory I want to share with you. 

It was so simple to you, and yet it was the furthest thing from my mind. I remember the way you stopped me in my tracks, when I was so worried about my Dad and synagogue and being the worst in the class, and you just interrupted me with "Dancer or doctor?" 

I don't think you understand what that questions means to me. It's a mantra I follow now, a reminder that there will always be someone to help or to guide, always someone to help sort out your life for you. My answer will always be dancer, and that isn't just because it's what my body craves, it is because there is talented people like you who will grace others with their presence. I had hoped to be one, but I'm hoping this letter will remind you to carry on dancing. Do you remember helping me look for my pointe shoes? (How I hated them with my whole being.) What friend jumps into trash just to help another friend, without being the nicest, genuine person I've ever met? We both stank on the walk back to the dorm, but it was okay. We braved the strange looks together, and we've done that ever since. We've braved life together. There's so many times you've helped me through things, it would mean infinite pages, on and on and on. When I think of them I am a little less scared, and a little more warm. There's cold now- I can feel it in my bones when I wake up, and I'm not sure why I'm hiding it from you all. I think I want to enjoy you as you are, for whatever time I have left. Remember me. Remember staring at me, eyes intent, question and solution in your mind. You have the answers, Tara, always. Remember the moment when we found that I was staying, remember our joy at not being parted. Remember hugging me, remember how my bony body felt, and I will remember how your arms felt around me. We were friends then, and we always will be. Remember the hope of new possibilities, remember the promise of more Academy days together, remember the promise of more dancing. 

Remember me, and when you do, remember the whole of me. The one who wanted approval from his dad, the one who was afraid of his own shadow, the one who didn't know who he was. Remember me as you shaped me, as one who laughs and jumps just because we know it is the only way we will fly. 

There will be two more letters, one that needs to be said and one that will be the hardest to write. I imagine you are reading with those same, kind eyes, and I hope they never change. 

Love, from Sammy.