Pieces of a Life

It was either very early in the morning or very late at night, depending on how you wanted to describe it. But either way it was cool and quiet outside, and everything had been dark when Leila had slipped out of bed without looking at the clock. Alex hadn’t stirred when she tip-toed around her room, pulling the red sweatshirt she’d discarded earlier over her head and gently closing her door. She had woken suddenly, in the gasping way that happened when you wake up from a nightmare, and it made her wide awake very quickly. For a few quiet minutes she lay in her big bed, growing more conscious of her bare skin and Alex’s arm sloppily draped over her as he slept. Finally, with her eyes wide and mind racing, she decided she needed some air.

When Leila became very self-aware, her house became creepy. It was so big and empty, completely silent and dark, and she was afraid that if she made one noise it would echo forever in the cavernous rooms. She walked with careful bare feet, taking slow steps while she wandered to get familiar with her home that had become just a house. Up the back stairs to the attic was a very familiar route. For her tenth birthday her father had redone the attic to make it a dance studio at home for Leila to practice, and if you pulled the staircase down from the ceiling of the attic, you could climb up onto the balcony on the roof. Leila stepped up the wooden stairs, trailing her fingertips lazily along the light blue painted walls that looked gray in the darkness, turning the knob to the polished wooden door at the top and opening it cautiously like a child opening their parents’ door in the middle of the night after a bad dream. That was what she felt like, too, but the glossy floors and endless mirrors could never bring the same comfort of snuggling up to her mother and father. Her time for that had been limited, and she had long passed the expiration date for it.

Multiple Leilas stared back at her in the mirrored room, bewildered blue eyes and tangled brown hair, bare legs under the baggy wolf sweatshirt. It was habit that made Leila watch how she moved, even just as she walked further into the room. The mirror in front of her was spotless and clear. She stared curiously at herself for a minute, wondering how this reflection looked when viewed in the eyes of someone else, and decided abruptly to go over to the wall by the door and grab her old pointe shoes from where they hung on a hook. They were old and decrepit from years and years of dancing and refusing to get rid of them, but they molded perfectly to her feet when she slipped them on and tied the ribbons. And when she stood to her feet and rose to her toes, her restless thoughts silenced.

She piled her hair on top of her head as an afterthought, only because it didn’t move the way it should while she danced and it got in her way. The beating in her chest was heavy and hard, but only from excitement. Everything else melted away, and she could close her eyes and trust that every move she made would bring her more calm and happiness. The shoes were perfect, the floor was perfect, the quiet and darkness and solitude were all perfect. Leila felt her lips turn up in a smile and she breathed out a contented sigh. Dancing had the ability to make everything tranquil once she lowered herself back to her feet, no matter the magnitude of her troubles.

The pull string for the staircase to the roof was dangling and tempting her when she stood flat on her feet, but when she pulled it and the ceiling opened for the stairs to come down it made the most god-awful creaking noise. Leila froze there, horrified, shaking because the sound was so loud it sounded like a car accident had just happened in front of her. When her heart stopped pounding she huffed and climbed up, greeted by cool, dark air. From the roof she could see all around the grounds of the house, the deck and pool in the back, the driveway and gates in the front, and the road beyond that. But what was most important was that she could see the trees and the sky, and she felt like she was being cupped in a great hand that lifted her up. She leaned on the railing and held her chin in her hand, looking blankly at the world around her. It looked nothing like San Francisco. But she loved it.

“Leila?” The sound of Alex’s rough and sleepy voice made her frown and she turned around. He stood at the top of the stairs in his underwear, squinting with tired eyes.

“Alex?” She teased back, smirking at his mussed up hair and crooked boxers. He dragged his palms across his eyes and raised his eyebrows, trying to wake up his vision.

“What the hell,” He mumbled, shivering a little. “It’s like four in the morning you psycho.”

Leila laughed and crossed over to him in a happy little prance, wrapping her arms around his torso and beaming. He frowned at her. She stood on her toes in her shoes to give him a kiss on the lips and then let go of him, gesturing to go back down the stairs. When she tried to push the stairs back up she struggled a little, and Alex impatiently pushed them up with one hand, causing her to scowl.

“How’d you know where I was?” She asked, sitting on the floor to take off her shoes. She glanced up at him and couldn’t help herself; her heart gave a little flutter, because he looked just…cute. Tired and a little grumpy, messy hair, only in his boxers.

“Gimme some credit, Lei,” He yawned. “I think I know you pretty well by now.” Leila smiled and carefully tied the ribbons so they’d hang back on the hook, leading Alex down the attic stairs. He gratefully flopped back down onto her spacious bed, pulling her against him when she settled down in the space at his side.

Her head rested comfortably on his chest, rising and falling as he breathed, eyes closed and mind at peace. It was when she was beginning to fall asleep that Alex’s sleepy voice sounded again, asking: “Are you happy, Leilabelle?”

Leila opened her eyes to look up at him, but his eyes were closed and if he hadn’t just spoken, she would’ve thought he was asleep. She looked at his arm around her, at his bare skin where her cheek was resting, at her covers bunched around them. She curled into his side and draped her arm across his body.

“More than ever,” She answered. Before she closed her eyes again, she noticed how he smiled slightly at her response.



When morning actually came, Leila was exhausted. The peace brought on by her early morning dancing and venture to the roof had worn off and the realization that she would be on the stage the next day set in. Although it wasn’t a massive career milestone, the anxiety she felt was equal to when she was giving her first performance with the Royal and the Queen was in the audience. She had been so young then, practically a baby, and the older girls in the company had been more than accommodating—which surprised her, because she expected resentment, since that seemed to follow her everywhere. Leila occasionally got nerves, her stomach got a little fluttery and maybe her hands would shake, but she knew it would help her perform her best. But that night in England, and this morning for whatever reason, it was a crippling nervousness.

Alex glanced at her when he sat down at the breakfast table, peeling an orange. He frowned. “What’s eating you, Leilabutt?”

Leila stared ahead and barely moved her face. She wasn’t really sure what was eating her, to be honest, but she had the idea that it had to do with the performance the next day. It shouldn’t have made her that nervous. It should’ve felt easy, practically like a rehearsal and not like a performance at all. But she was nervous already, a day in advance, and there was the little ghost of a thought that it might be because she was home. These people knew her, this city knew her. She couldn’t fool anybody. And she couldn’t run off and hide. That was the scariest thing.

“Just pre-stage nerves, I guess.” She mumbled simply, coming back to reality to watch as Alex mangled the peel of his orange. She snatched it out of his hands with impatience and twisted the peel off easily, tossing it back to him. He blinked and looked at her.

“I guess so,” He muttered under his breath.

After a while longer of staring at the table Leila stood up suddenly and announced, “I’m going to see Evelyn.”

Alex looked at her, confused. “Uh. Okay.” He said, watching her leave to go shower and get dressed. When she got out of the shower and began to do her makeup in her towel, he leaned against the doorframe of her bathroom. “You seemed alright earlier.” He said.

Leila pursed her lips and twitched a little frown while she focused on her face in the mirror. “That’s because I was alright earlier,” She mumbled. “I don’t know, Alex, I slept like shit and now I’m a nervous wreck.” He didn’t say anything. Leila finished and put her makeup on the counter, clutching her towel and turning to him. “It’s not like a regular thing, where I perform for a big crowd of people who know what to expect and pay my salary with their tickets. These people know me, they have this like…this golden idol in their heads. I don’t know if I can live up to that.” She brushed past him to go get clothes.

“You’ve got a lot of issues, Lei,” He laughed. “You know that? You’re one of the best dancers in the world, and you’re tearing yourself up because you’re afraid to be back in Baltimore.”

Leila’s scowl was deep and angry, but Alex didn’t see it because she stood in her closet. She threw her towel at him so he knew she was annoyed, but he just laughed again, so she slammed the closet door and got dressed in there. He hovered around her while she got her things, and he stood behind her with a smirk while she went up to the door with her keys in her hand. “Don’t forget this is my house,” She snapped.

“Stop being a brat and give me a kiss.” He told her. Leila narrowed her eyes but gave him a kiss on the cheek, his whole face lighting up when she did, and he pulled her face back to his to kiss her longer.

Leila’s frown dissolved, although she was certainly still anxious, and she looked down when she pulled back from his lips. He was smiling, she could tell. “I’ll see you later.” Was all he said in goodbye, and she nodded. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek almost as an afterthought, and she opened the front door to walk out to her car.

Evelyn hadn’t been expecting her, but was delighted to see her just the same. Evelyn always kept herself busy, and sometimes that was what Leila needed. So when Leila walked through the door with a miserable expression that she couldn’t hide, Evelyn laughed and invited her to sit beside her on the couch. Leila was so easily calmed by Evelyn’s constant need to be occupied, because it didn’t let her mind wander. Helping Evelyn sew patterns on the couch while watching some reality TV trash was perfect therapy. It was made even better when Jack ordered a pizza.

“What’s the story, Lei, tell me what’s going on,” Evelyn murmured, pushing her obnoxiously hip black framed glasses up her nose while gazing at the television.

Leila hummed thoughtfully and handed a pin cushion to her. “I…well,” She stammered, glancing to make sure Jack wasn’t eavesdropping. “I…uhm, I slept with Alex I guess.”

Evelyn quirked an eyebrow and gave her a maternal look over her glasses. “You guess?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Leila mumbled. “I guess it’s news is what I meant. If you wanted to know.” She took a pin and pricked Evelyn’s thigh, earning a yelp and a glare. Leila smirked.

“Of course I want to know,” Evelyn snatched the pin from Leila’s hand. “I like to keep my nose in everybody’s business. It’s refreshing.”

Leila leaned sloppily on the couch, watching whatever useless show Evelyn had on. Alex had left Leila’s house shortly after Leila departed for Evelyn’s. And Alex went to his mom’s. She’d be put-out, of course, that Leila wasn’t with him, but he couldn’t gossip about her if she were with him. Not that he would say anything bad, he thought, he just wanted to get another female input that was unbiased—because Evelyn was not the person to go to about Leila.

Mrs. Gaskarth was surprised to see her son, but pleased, of course. She asked where Leila was, which he knew she’d do. “I can’t talk behind her back if she’s here, Mom,” Alex joked, resting his elbows on the countertop of the kitchen. His mother was making a cake for something or other; he just heard the word “cake” and that it wasn’t for him and got upset.

“How is she, anyway?” Mrs. Gaskarth asked, looking up from her sifting and mixing.

Alex shrugged. “Same, I guess. Impossible. Sad and stubborn, can’t get out of her own way.” He sighed, leaning his cheek against his hand. His mother nodded knowingly. Same old Leila, same old habits. They were quiet in the kitchen until Alex began speaking again, anxiously. “I don’t know, Mom. I don’t want her to leave again. I…she’s important to me, you know? And she’s so hard on herself.”

She looked up from her cooking again to raise an eyebrow at her son. Alex shrugged dramatically, putting his hands up in an unspoken what do you want me to say? Mrs. Gaskarth stopped stirring her batter, one hand still holding the spoon. “Just say it, Alex, I know what you’re thinking. It’s why you’re here talking to me, anyway.”

Alex’s face puckered. “What?” He whined. “No. Say what?” His mother raised her eyebrows again, impatiently.

“Alexander William,” She said firmly. “You love that girl. Don’t you try to whine at me about it either; you do, and you finally know it, and that’s what you’re here for. It scares you to love her because you can so easily lose her. Am I wrong?” She looked at him pointedly.

Alex gave a long sigh and stared at the countertop, at the cake that he couldn’t have. “I guess,” He mumbled.

“You love that girl, Alex,” She repeated. “You do.”

“Whatever,” He sang, dashing one finger into the cake batter. She smacked his hand, but it was worth it.

“Don’t you whatever me either, Alex,” His mother scowled at him. “I’m not making this up. You’re my son, sweetheart, I think I know you.”

Alex groaned. Leila not only made things hard for herself, but everyone else around her. But he had to admit, his mother had gotten it right pretty quickly. “Alright, Mom, alright. Yeah, you said it best. I…whatever, whatever. I—I love her. Yeah, okay. Okay, Mom, okay.” It was like pulling teeth. His mother smiled, looking down at the mixing bowl again. Alex groaned and ran his hand along his jaw. “Yeah, alright, I love her. Leila’s pretty much the most important thing in my life. I care about her a lot. I worry about her. I don’t want her to panic and run away again, because I know I won’t get her back, and I don’t think I could ever really be happy if that happened.”

Mrs. Gaskarth beamed up at him. “That’s more like it. That’s my boy.”

Alex eyed the cake batter again. “But what am I supposed to do about it, Mom?” He was whining again.

“You’re not Leila,” His mother joked. “You’re not lost, you can figure it out.” She looked up at him.

She figured things out for him so easily and he was full of relief and gratitude for it. But figuring out what to do with Leila was an entirely different task. Leila was a difficult person. The worst part was he could feel the urgency in the way he watched her panicking. Leila was already shutting down. And he didn’t know what to do to stop it.