Dancing Nowhere

Claudette’s Ballerinas were a famous dancing group all over the country. Their moves were smooth, synchronous, and flawless. Tickets were sold out after three days of the announcements in every city and state. Parents were proud of their daughters if they auditioned and won a spot in the dance group. Each dancer in Claudette’s Ballerinas was almost like a celebrity.

Veena was the tallest and most beautiful one in the group. She had a dazzling smile that you could see even from the farthest seat of the auditorium. White even teeth, high cheekbones, and a slender body. Their coach strategically put Veena in the front of the dancing formation, even though she wasn’t that great of a dancer. Similar in body, face, and talent were Aspen, Shelly, and Tanisha, who were also put in the front with her.

Next came Mila, who was shorter and had a longer face. The coach didn’t find her beautiful enough to even be in the main performance and thus casted her as a backup with all the other “misfits”. However, Mila had a skill in dancing, whatever kind it may be. She could learn the steps in one iteration and even predict what the next ones would be. On top of their morning practice, Mila would wake up earlier and create some of her own moves, hoping to one day retire from Claudette’s Ballerinas and start her own dancing group.

Claudette’s Ballerinas were a booming piece of entertainment, with some dancers appearing on late night talk shows and news channels. The manager finally relented to having them tour around the country, a wish that the women had been begging him to allow. They started their tour in the middle of October and were to continue until January.

While most of the ballerinas were excited during this adventure, Mila started growing tired of it. She had never liked the idea of travelling constantly, and was more of an indoor kind of person, who on a rainy night would like to cuddle up on her favorite couch and read a book. Not be stuck with ten other girls in a small tour bus, having to listen to every ounce of their gossip. She was finally relieved when their coach informed them that they were stopping at a motel for the night.

The coach checked them in, and each ballerina was given her own room. “We’re leaving at ten in the morning, sharp,” the coach said. Mila checked her watch.

No time to read Sherlock Holmes. Maybe I should skip the practice routine tomorrow and catch up on some sleep. I could just collapse on the floor! She thought.

Her eyes were getting tired and she wanted to leave immediately but the coach kept lecturing them as if they were a bunch of schoolgirls on a field trip. She listened for about another five minutes, and when the coach was done, she quickly left the lobby and went to her room.

Room 116 was engraved on her key. Mila walked down the hall and as she was opening her door, she saw that Veena was two rooms to her right. She felt a sense of dread coming up. Veena the troublemaker, she thought disappointedly. Mila went into her room, locked the door, and started unpacking her suitcase for her pajamas.

But before she could wear them, she started hearing loud music pounding against her walls. Dammit, Veena, she thought angrily. Mila was getting dreary at this point and left to go to Room 113. She knocked, and Aspen opened the door.

“Oh Mila! Funny seeing you here… finally joined the party, huh?” Aspen asked in a surprised tone.

Anyone who knows Mila knew this wasn’t her type of crowd. She could see the party from the little gap of the opened door. Girls drinking, laying down, and some dancing. How did she bring all this? Mila thought as she looked at the empty bottles on the floor.

“Hey Aspen, I was hoping I could talk to Veena about toning the music down. Some of us are trying to sleep,” Mila said politely.

“By ‘some of us’ you mean your misfits group?” Veena asked, she came to the door and Aspen left to go dance with Shelley. Veena purposely turned the volume up a little to irritate Mila.  

“Veena, I don’t have the energy to fight with you tonight. Can you please just lower the music so I can sleep? I’m really tired,” pleaded Mila.

“You don’t know how to have any fun! I’ve seen you practicing moves and trying to butter up to the coach, you try-hard! But you won’t be able to join the front line because you don’t have the looks. Just accept it,” Veena added harshly.

Mila rolled her eyes. Veena wins again, she thought dejectedly. Mila knew she wouldn’t change her mind, so she let go of the tirade and went back to her room.

Mila was furiously pacing up and down her room. She tried sleeping but all she could do was toss and turn. Damn them all! Mila thought angrily. She had had enough. She got up, went to her suitcase, and opened a tiny box. Inside was a needle and some liquid in a small bottle. She opened the bottle, dipped the needle in it and injected herself on her right forearm. She then put the needle and the bottle back in the box and put the box back in the small hidden compartment of her suitcase. She sat down on the edge of her bed and waited for the effect to hit her. She knew this was a bad habit of hers.

It started when she was a teenager and her then-boyfriend hooked her up on drugs. She liked the feeling of it. She felt light and everything was peaceful no matter what the noise. She abused it and ended up going to rehab for a while in her senior year. After that, she tried to mimic the same feeling by wearing earplugs or listening to Beethoven. It was hard initially but she became used to it. Why did she use it now, suddenly? Mila was thinking the same thing. Her anger at the coach, the formation, the pretty girls like Veena and Aspen, the tour, and the noise all built up inside of her that even earplugs and classical music could not numb out. No, I needed something stronger, Mila agreed to her doubting self.

Eventually, she started feeling what she missed thirteen years ago. The peace and quiet thanks to her ambrosia. It came faster to her than before, probably from using it after a long while. The world slowed, taking a break from the constant revolutions around and around.

Mila got up and stumbled a bit. I’m walking on clouds! She thought giddily. She no longer felt upset and lied down on her bed. Her headache was gone, filling with energy and happiness. She wanted to continue lying there forever, but she couldn’t. The drug nudged her continuously to get up. Mila obeyed.

She used the TV as support until she found her footing. And when she could finally walk normally, she took her headphones that were sitting on the bedside table and started playing music.

Not Beethoven, no. This time, it’s gonna be different, she decided.

After scrolling through multiple playlists she had, she settled down on the one she’d been practicing every morning: fusion. She turned the volume up, to the point that she could not hear anything outside. Only her music. Mila started dancing and spinning around. She hit her foot at the edge of the TV stand and sat down on her bed again, waiting for the pain to subside. I need a larger space. Mila then got up and left the building.

~~~

It was a warm night. The stars were all visible from the naked eye. It’s so beautiful, she thought in awe.

Whether it was from the giddiness or because she’d felt cooped up in the bus, Mila started running on the side of the road. She didn’t stop for a while but when she was out of breath, she realized that she was in the middle of nowhere. Just farm fields expanding across the two sides of the road. Finally, some space!

Mila started dancing again. This time however, she freestyled instead of the usual ballet. Hoping it would give her some inspiration for her dance. The moon was fully lit and shone bright like a spotlight. It was just for her, just for that night. The wind blew, and the sound of leaves rustling on the trees became applause from the audience. This was her performance. Nobody could take it away.

Mila started becoming more energetic and kept switching between running and dancing. She went to the middle of the road and started performing backflips, jumps and other stunts she’d been working on.

She danced her anger away. At the coach, Veena and her gang, the tour, the manager. Suddenly, she heard a deep loud sound. It was a truck, honking at her urgently to move aside. Mila however heard it like one of the Tubas in the orchestra, below the stage. She loved the sound of it and at that very instance, composed a dance move. Taking the Tuba as an indication, she cartwheeled out of the way, just in time. The truck driver yelled at her as he sped away, but Mila heard it as an avid fan cheering for her.

Slowly, she started to tire down. The drug in her body started to loosen up, making her head clearer. I should get back, Mila thought, dejectedly. She walked slowly but her vision grew darker. Mila started panicking. Her heart started racing at the unknown effect, her legs weakened. Then, she collapsed on the ground. She tried to keep her eyes open, but they shut. Mila let the blackness take over.

~~~

She woke up to something dripping over her. Oh no, is it raining? She dreadfully thought. Mila felt something rubbing against her cheek. She pried her eyes open and saw a retriever licking her. What in the world? She wondered.

“You had us scared there for a minute. Been trying to wake you up for so long,” she heard a voice. Was it the dog?

A figure came close to her face. It was a woman. She looked around sixty, wearing a worn-out hat and a brown plaid shirt. Her jeans were faded, covered with specks of dirt. The woman put her hand on Mila’s forehead.

“You don’t seem to have a fever. Are you feeling okay?” the farmer asked.

“Yes…” was all Mia could muster.

“Alright, let’s get you up. My house is right there,” the farmer pointed to a cozy looking place with white walls and a windmill next to it. Mila looked around and saw vast spanning corn fields. This must all be hers, she thought.

The farmer put one arm around Mila’s waist and helped her trek to the house. The dog, wagging its tail crazily, was jumping around Mila. Excited that there’s a new human coming home. Once they made it to the house, the farmer helped Mila get into the shower and cleaned her up. She gave her some spare clothes, temporarily, until the washing machine had cleaned her own dirty ones.

“Now hun, you look famished. Let me fry up some eggs and bacon for you,” the farmer decided. Mila would have protested at the food choice. She’d been eating protein shakes, sugar-free cereal, and fruit bowls for the past year to keep her shape. But the farmer was right. Mila’s stomach rumbled loudly, and she couldn’t resist the smell of the bacon crackling in oil.

“Here you go,” said the farmer. She placed a plate in front of Mila, filled with two fried eggs and three slices of bacon. She poured her some orange juice and seated herself opposite to Mila, observing. The retriever kept trying to steal some of Mila’s bacon.

“Mortimer! Come here, you silly dog,” the farmer scolded, jokingly. Mortimer diligently came to sit by his owner, and she stroked his head.

“Now, what is your name and where did you come from?” the farmer asked. Mila ate two more pieces and then replied, “My name is Mila. I came from the city.”

“Ah the city! Haven’t been there in a while. Ever since Joshua passed away... My husband,” the farmer added, in response to Mila’s confused look. “What are you doing here?” She added.

“I’m on the road. My friends and I are… just travelling,” Mila hesitated.

It’s not that she didn’t trust the farmer. For once, Mila was able to eat her breakfast peacefully in the quiet countryside. Devoid of the sounds of traffic, neighboring apartments, and alarms. She wanted to forget that she was on a tour with ten other chatty ballerinas, docking from place to place to do the same exact performance, while Mila stood backstage, watching them enviously.

“Well, it sure seems like you’re travelling! Where to?”

“Just anywhere. It’s more of like an unplanned trip. Just go where the road takes you.”

Mila resumed her eating. The farmer looked at the starving girl pityingly, and so she stopped asking questions.

Once breakfast was cleared and all the dishes were cleaned, Mila sat by the one of the windows and gazed out at the tranquil place. She closed her eyes and let out a big sigh. Finally releasing all the bottled-up anger, stress, and energy. I wish I could stay here, she thought calmly.

The farmer retrieved Mila’s phone from the field where she had collapsed. Mila was surprised to see that her battery lasted but felt a sense of jolt when she saw the ten missed calls from Veena. The farmer noticed it too and asked, “Your folks are worried about you. Do you want me to drop you off?”

“In a little while,” Mila replied. She was sad. She didn’t want to leave such a pleasant place and go back to her demanding life. The farmer looked at Mila hesitantly but then sat down by a couch to read her book.

Mila stared out the window. The corn fields spreading infinitely around the roads, glowing yellow in the bright sunshine. She felt a cold breeze and pulled her blanket closer. The ballerina leaned her head against the windowsill and closed her eyes. Enjoying the last few minutes of peace and quiet, she’ll probably not feel in a long time.

Unless…