Dancing And Going Home

Author’s Note: At one point in the story, a PK turn and coffee grinder are mentioned. A PK turn is just a form of spin in ballet dance, and a coffee grinder is a… dance move in jazz dance. I have no idea how to explain that one so you can understand. And I did the math on when a month and seventeen days would be. And the translation for when Klar speaks is “Zombies; bad guys. Really mean. Hurt me.” And, also, I don't think this is very good and rushed so critique as hard as you can. Thanks! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

October 15, 2021

Siva

-noun

Meaning: a dancer who needs a break.

Siva

-adjective

Meaning: a word to describe a dancer that constantly works hard, but needs a break and can’t get one. OR a word to describe a person who loves to dance but wishes she could do it locally.

Siva

-verb

Meaning: continuing to dance and dance and dance when you, really, really need a break.

Pepese peered over my shoulder at my scratches in the notebook. Without looking at him, I could see the hesitation. It was clear as day.

“That’s certainly something to write about, Siva. Tomorrow, though, I would like you to write about how to do a PK-turn and a coffee grinder correctly,” Pepese instructed. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the same time that I smiled at Pepese.

“Of course, Pepese. Whatever you say`.” My smile quickly faded and I ripped the paper out of my notebook, putting it in the drawer of the desk I was sitting at. The teacher sighed as he walked out of the room.

You see, I am a Broadway dancer and fifteen. When I was twelve, I entered into the Young Dancers Competition. I won, and that’s when Broadway found me. After multiple shows/musicals, I decided to start traveling and performing all over North America.

As I wrote that paper, I was in Manitoba, Canada on a tour bus. Pepese (he was not only my teacher but my dance manager, too), the driver Alex, and I were on our way to Ontario. Now, back to the story.

I took a deep breath and followed Pepese into the main living area. He was sitting on the couch, snacking on dried cranberries (yuck!). Alex was screaming a song by Adele in her off-key voice. I sat down at the table and twiddled my thumbs silently. I was comfortable with the limited noise, but Pepese broke it.

“I understand that you need a break. And I feel sorry for you; I do. But you knew what you signed up for when you decided to go on Broadway, Siva. If you didn’t, then that’s your fault. And we all get to go home in a month and seventeen days. So, please, stop complaining,” Pepese rushed. His words hit me like a train; not because they were harsh, but because they were the truth. At that moment, I remembered how lucky I was to have this chance. To have enough money to do the tours and go places for shows and keep my family safe and healthy. 

No. More. Complaining. (Out loud, anyway.)

December 1, 2021

I closed the door lightly and flicked the light switch on to immediately jump. A young girl, no older than five sat at the dining table. At first, I didn’t recognize her with her blond-and-pink-tipped hair, but then realized exactly who it was.

“Tamaititi!” I cried. She leaped up from her chair and raced to me, immediately wrapping her arms around my middle. My eyes welled up with tears, and before I knew it, I was weeping. Tamaititi was crying at that point, too. 

“I missed you so much, Siva.” My little sister looked up at me. “Why’d you go for so long?” I said nothing, just held Tamaititi closer to me.

There were two reasons why I was gone for so long, away from home. One was acceptable to tell Tamaititi, the other not so much. But either way, I was not going to tell my little sister. She would be hurt, I was sure of it.

The two of us finally let go of each other, and I brought my bags upstairs into my room. Tamaititi said her goodnites, both of us sleeping the moment our heads hit the pillow. 

---

The next day at four in the morning, I was woken up by someone crawling into my bed, right next to me. I groggily opened my eyes to see my little brother, the age of two, facing me with a frown on his face. His eyebrows were pointed downwards.

“Hi, Klar. Did you have a nightmare? How’d you know I’m home?” I questioned. Klar nodded lightly and scrunched up in a ball under the covers.

“Zombies; bad gees. Willy mean. Hert me.” Klar shook his head and started to rock. Back and forth, back and forth.

“It’s okay, Klar. Come here. In the morning it’ll all go away and we’ll all be okay.” I rubbed his back in a circular motion until we both fell asleep.

---

Later that morning, when both Klar and I woke up at a decent hour, the two of us ambled downstairs. I was taken aback when I saw my… mom? Cooking? What the heck?

“Klar! There you are! I looked in your room this morning and you weren’t in bed. I was starting to get worried. Oh, Siva. Come here, come here. I’ve missed you so much,” Mom declared. I blinked a few times at her outstretched arms and ended up hugging her. She ran her fingers through my light blue hair and her tears soaked the shoulder of my pajama shirt.

“I… Mom, I missed you, too,” I whispered. Before, I never thought that this could be possible. But as I spoke those words, I knew that they were true. I knew that no matter what I wanted to think about my mother, I would always love, care for, and miss her.