The Language of Your Soul (H.S.)

Act IV

Six Weeks to Opening Night

Any tension that had dissipated between Harry and Giselle has returned in full force the next day. This bothers Harry in a way it shouldn't, in a way that makes him want to fix things. But what is there to fix? Giselle and Harry's relationship on a good day barely resembled a friendship.

Harry is warming up at the barre when Giselle enters the studio that evening. He tries to focus on the stretch in his hamstrings as his leg rests on the barre, but he can't help the way his eyes drift to her as she puts on her pointe shoes, her lips pressed together in a straight line. He tries to gauge her mood. She'd barely spoken to him during rehearsal today, avoiding his gaze as if she was afraid of what he might say to her.

This look of fear only confirmed to Harry that he was right.  He knew what he heard that night after salsa, even if Giselle denied it. He had lay awake that night wondering if he shouldn't have said anything at all or if he should have said more- his mind drifting back to Alice. If this were Alice what would he have done? But he had been in love with Alice. What did he know about Giselle other than that she was a perfectionist and a workaholic?

"Act III pas de deux today?" Harry asks when it becomes clear that Giselle isn't going to speak to him.

Giselle nods, fidgeting with the strap of her black leotard across her pale shoulder and continuing to avoid eye contact with Harry.

"I'm sorry, about what I said to you yesterday. I didn't mean to offend you."

This time, Giselle looks up meeting his gaze. Then she stands up slowly, remaining silent as she makes her way over to the speakers to start their music.

When their finished with rehearsal, Harry picks up his grey Hydroflask from the corner of the room, letting the cold water run down his burning throat. Giselle's laying on the floor with her right leg pulled near her chest, sweat still beaded on her forehead.

Harry's words slip out before he can stop them.

"Ask me one question and I'll answer honestly."

Giselle sits up, he interest piqued. "And the catch is?"

"In return, I get to ask you one question, and you'll answer it honestly."

Giselle bites her bottom lip as if she is contemplating Harry's offer.

"Giselle," he says firmly. "Ask. I know you have a million questions in that head of yours."

She taps her index finger against her lips. "Okay. Why did you leave the Royal, Harry?"

Harry smirks, because somehow he knew this was exactly what Giselle was going to ask.  "Well I didn't exactly leave willingly." He pauses, and he watches the edge of Giselle's mouth twitch knowing that inside she is furious that this might be her only answer.

"The Royal let me go. It wasn't because I slept with the director's wife- although I will say that rumor was particularly amusing. She would probably love to know that was circulating."

Giselle looks at Harry expectantly and for some reason Harry feels compelled to continue his answer.

"I guess I just got to a point where I was sick of all the other stuff. Not the dancing- I've always loved the dancing. But the fundraisers, and the schmoozing of board members, and the politics of it all. I didn't feel like I was even a person to them anymore. I was a possession- a prize pony that they flaunted around to attract more attention to the company. They'd proved to me that they could care less about the well-being of their students. So, I stopped going to everything in rebellion. I didn't show up for the dinners or the interviews or the rehearsals I didn't feel were absolutely necessary."