Life on Point
Returning home
Half an hour later we were sitting on a large green sofa in the corner of a secluded café where she assured me “we wouldn’t be spotted” as thought it was a natural part of my day to day life, not just a special consideration reserved for the famous. When Libby had gone to the bathroom I decided to order for us, foolish enough to assume I still knew something about her. I ordered myself a cappuccino and then I asked for the drink that used to be her favourite: a caramel macchiato. I set them both down on a little table and feeling immensely pleased with myself.
When she returned from the toilets she looked at the drinks surprised, “what’s this?” she questioned. “It used to be your favourite” I told her as my cheeks began to flush red with embarrassment. She looked surprised for a moment but then a wild smile broke out across her face, “you’re right, it did. I had completely forgotten.”
“So what’s your favourite drink now then?” I asked, fully aware of how little I now knew about her. “Mineral water, with lots of ice.” I looked at her to see if she was joking but when I found she was deadly serious I couldn’t help but say “well that’s incredibly boring isn’t it?” When she remained silent I found myself blushing again, ashamed that once again I had misread the situation. Then I noticed how she was staring at the drink with genuine fear in her eyes, how her hand had begun to shake and she wouldn’t look me in the eyes. I recalled her bony hug and her presence in the hospital and at once reached a terrifying conclusion: anorexia.
I knew that dancers needed to remain as thin as they possibly could, however I had always been consoled by the fact that they also needed muscle tone, and hence protein, to be successful. That was how I had managed to convince myself that nothing like this could ever happen to her. But I guess I had been wrong.
“Are you…” I began, but found I couldn’t bring myself to ask her. Instead I pathetically ended the sentence with “hungry?” She smiled at me, in a sad sort of way, and said instead “I’ve missed you.” Our hands found each other under the table and we laced them together.
It felt like returning home.
“I’m sorry” we said in perfect unison. And then we moved together instinctively, lips touching as gently as a whisper and I wondered how on earth I had ever coped without her.
When she returned from the toilets she looked at the drinks surprised, “what’s this?” she questioned. “It used to be your favourite” I told her as my cheeks began to flush red with embarrassment. She looked surprised for a moment but then a wild smile broke out across her face, “you’re right, it did. I had completely forgotten.”
“So what’s your favourite drink now then?” I asked, fully aware of how little I now knew about her. “Mineral water, with lots of ice.” I looked at her to see if she was joking but when I found she was deadly serious I couldn’t help but say “well that’s incredibly boring isn’t it?” When she remained silent I found myself blushing again, ashamed that once again I had misread the situation. Then I noticed how she was staring at the drink with genuine fear in her eyes, how her hand had begun to shake and she wouldn’t look me in the eyes. I recalled her bony hug and her presence in the hospital and at once reached a terrifying conclusion: anorexia.
I knew that dancers needed to remain as thin as they possibly could, however I had always been consoled by the fact that they also needed muscle tone, and hence protein, to be successful. That was how I had managed to convince myself that nothing like this could ever happen to her. But I guess I had been wrong.
“Are you…” I began, but found I couldn’t bring myself to ask her. Instead I pathetically ended the sentence with “hungry?” She smiled at me, in a sad sort of way, and said instead “I’ve missed you.” Our hands found each other under the table and we laced them together.
It felt like returning home.
“I’m sorry” we said in perfect unison. And then we moved together instinctively, lips touching as gently as a whisper and I wondered how on earth I had ever coped without her.
♠ ♠ ♠
Thoughts? :) xx