St. Elsewhere
Part 3
"Mia, Mia, Mia. What are we going to do with you?" Madame de Reyon said shaking her head.
"I'm sorry?" Mia asked perplexed.
"You verk too hard! Mia, you are exhausted look at you."
Mia was Madame de Reyon's favourite pupil, even though she was not allowed to admit that to anyone. Least of all herself.
She often had to tell Mia when she had to take a break, it was not uncommon that Mia threw herself so much into practicing that she forgot everything else around her especially her own needs.
So Madame de Reyon kept Mia behind after the morning warm up class.
"Tous les temps Mia, all the time work work work. I know you want everything to be perfect but ballet is about the beauty, the flow of natural order and elegance. This you have Mia – elegance. But if you over work yourself the elegance will fade, because elegance comes with the love of dancing."
Madame de Reyon had to look out for her pupils mental health as well as their physical and she could feel that Mia was unhappy.
"Take the day off Mia. I will explain to Signor DiCelli,"
Signor DiCelli was the music master and choreographer. Another one of Mia's many teachers.
Mia nodded and packed her bags up.
Madame de Reyon was right. She needed an off day.
Going back to her apartment, that was only ten minutes walk from the school, Mia took a warm shower and dressed in grey skinny jeans, a yellow hoodie and some silver flats.
Grabbing her purse from the counter she headed into the busy streets of London and found the nearest café and ordered a hot chocolate.
She took a seat by the window and watched the world go by, occasionally pealing her eyes from the window to see who walked into the coffee shop.
Mia sighed and for the first time in months let the loneliness that she had been secretly experiencing take over.
She lived on her own in a tiny apartment. Her peers had attempted to make conversation and get to know her, but Mia was only ever focused on two things. Ballet and her mother.
Making friends meant that she had to explain her delicate situation, something she really did not want to do. It would mean that she appeared less strong and it would evoke pity.
How she hated that word.
Pity is in fact a very difficult emotion to categorise.
Mia had come to find that pity in other people was often more relief. Relief that their lives weren't like that.
At this point in time Mia felt as though she was about to burst into tears.
She stood up abruptly and marched out of the door, bumping into a tiny girl who was just making her way into the coffee shop.
"Sorry." Mia said and quickly walked on, salty tears collecting at the bottom of her grey eyes.
The tiny girl looked after Mia's retreating form and something flashed in her eyes.
Pity.
"I'm sorry?" Mia asked perplexed.
"You verk too hard! Mia, you are exhausted look at you."
Mia was Madame de Reyon's favourite pupil, even though she was not allowed to admit that to anyone. Least of all herself.
She often had to tell Mia when she had to take a break, it was not uncommon that Mia threw herself so much into practicing that she forgot everything else around her especially her own needs.
So Madame de Reyon kept Mia behind after the morning warm up class.
"Tous les temps Mia, all the time work work work. I know you want everything to be perfect but ballet is about the beauty, the flow of natural order and elegance. This you have Mia – elegance. But if you over work yourself the elegance will fade, because elegance comes with the love of dancing."
Madame de Reyon had to look out for her pupils mental health as well as their physical and she could feel that Mia was unhappy.
"Take the day off Mia. I will explain to Signor DiCelli,"
Signor DiCelli was the music master and choreographer. Another one of Mia's many teachers.
Mia nodded and packed her bags up.
Madame de Reyon was right. She needed an off day.
Going back to her apartment, that was only ten minutes walk from the school, Mia took a warm shower and dressed in grey skinny jeans, a yellow hoodie and some silver flats.
Grabbing her purse from the counter she headed into the busy streets of London and found the nearest café and ordered a hot chocolate.
She took a seat by the window and watched the world go by, occasionally pealing her eyes from the window to see who walked into the coffee shop.
Mia sighed and for the first time in months let the loneliness that she had been secretly experiencing take over.
She lived on her own in a tiny apartment. Her peers had attempted to make conversation and get to know her, but Mia was only ever focused on two things. Ballet and her mother.
Making friends meant that she had to explain her delicate situation, something she really did not want to do. It would mean that she appeared less strong and it would evoke pity.
How she hated that word.
Pity is in fact a very difficult emotion to categorise.
Mia had come to find that pity in other people was often more relief. Relief that their lives weren't like that.
At this point in time Mia felt as though she was about to burst into tears.
She stood up abruptly and marched out of the door, bumping into a tiny girl who was just making her way into the coffee shop.
"Sorry." Mia said and quickly walked on, salty tears collecting at the bottom of her grey eyes.
The tiny girl looked after Mia's retreating form and something flashed in her eyes.
Pity.