Opera House

Act II.

I've got a love for you I just can't escape. All my love for you cuts me like barbed wire.

WIN

I flew into space, immersing myself into character as Tchaikovsky chimed on. Fiery, and fierce. My legs slightly jiggled as I burst into a triple tour en l'air.

Doing the last few pirouettes for the last act, I halted and held the pose on my pointé shoes for a few solid beats and laid slump by the stage. I've been doing this small-time play for months now and tomorrow's going to be the 6th and last show since Opening Night.

Swan Lake. Though I originally auditioned for Prince Siegfried, I landed Von Rothbart's part. I knew it was too late to back down when your on your sixth night into the play, but I still can't grasp Rothbart's villainous tendencies. Onstage, it would look polished, yet almost a little too rough on the edges. I would constantly beat myself for fear of it not being the best.

But that is what the patrons loved about Rothbart. They liked what they were seeing. The sloppiness, the triumphant air in his movements, and for me it was enough. The praise was more than enough.

The soles of my feet felt like they were on fire. The bruising didn't help and my body is sore all over--but I liked reeling into the pain-the hurt is good. It means I'm human and alive enough to feel it.

And that I'm doing something I truly loved.

One of the principal dancers, P'Lynn, who was playing Odile, approached me and tapped me on my shoulder.

"Don't forget our meeting with the board, tonight at 6, Win! The director wants to meet us for a few reminders for Closing Night and the deal for next season's play!" She uttered.

We haven't even finished with Swan Lake yet they're in the talks at opening a new one. The meeting would be two hours from now and I figured I could kill some time to perfect the pas de bourée I was struggling with since my ankle smarted on me during the third night of the play.

"I'll be there, P'!" I replied as she started sauntering away with a few of our colleagues.

"We might hear a word from RBS or ABT this time!" P'Lynn called out.

My ears perked up at that. Everyone from our company applied to The Royal Ballet School in London and the American Ballet School in the States. I hope I finally hear some good news this time, I could really use one.

Walking to the locker room, I retrieved my things to head to Studio B to rehearse on my own. I sat on the cold hardwood floor of the empty studio and stared at my reflexion. There are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my cheeks are flushed, and I'm sweaty and sore all over.

My phone rang from my bag while I was in the middle of sewing the holes on my pointe shoes.

Taking out my phone from my bag, I saw Bright calling. I answered it right away.

"Babe? What's up?"

"Sawasdee, Nong Win. Its me, P'Foei. I'm sorry for bothering you." The other person from the other line politely spoke.

"Sawasdee, P'! Is everything okay? Where's Bright?"

"About that," P'Foei paused, as if he was huffing in helplessness. "He's at my bar for a few hours or so now and he's very drunk right now, Bright's trashed the place and soon enough we'll be having more customers. Could you pick him up?"

For over a year now, I couldn't count how many times I've received a call like this. I ended the call telling P'Foei that I'll be over soon to pick up Bright and hurried out of the studio in a hurry.