For Eternity

Her body flowed with the music. Her toes pointed as she performed a pirouette and came in contact with the floor after. Her dance skirt flowed with the wind as she leaped across the floor, her arms stretched out beside her. She landed perfectly, one foot over the other, with her toes resting against the hardwood stage. Her arms were held high above her head. The lights dimmed as the music stopped and curtains were pulled closed.

Mila Davis dropped her arms one the curtains were closed. She moved so her weight was on both feet and walked off the stage. Her fellow dancers congratulated her on how well she did with her solo. Mila grinned widely. Nothing else in the world could make her feel happier, more alive, than ballet. That night, she proved to her city how well she could do.

Mila was more worried about impressing her parents. They were strict, uptight. Mila never did anything to impress them. They weren’t horrible to her; they just had high standards.

Mila walked into the changing room and grabbed her dance bag. She pulled out her jeans and singlet, then laid them across the bench. She removed her pointe shoes and wrapped them up, then stuffed them into her bag. She, then, proceeded to remove her dance uniform and change.

Once Mila was done changing, she shook her hair out of the roll it had been in then brushed it out. She made sure she had everything packed away in her bag before she threw it over her shoulder. She exited the changing room and walked out to the leaving crowd of people to find her parents.

“Mila!” Her father shouted from across the room. Mila turned to see him. There, he stood, in his suit, his usual attire. Her mother stood beside him in her skirt suit and high heels. It was obvious where Mila got her looks from; she looked exactly like her mother.

Mila mad her way through the crowd of people to join her parents. Her father and mother each took turns with hugging her and congratulating her.

“We’re very proud of you, Mila. We did not know you danced so well.” Mila’s mother, Mrs. Davis spoke with a small smile on her face. Mila could feel her heart swell at the simple words. She hugged her mother again and grinned widely. Ballet was her passion, her job, and it made her glad her parents finally accepted it.

“Thank you, mum. That means a lot.” Mila adjusted the strap on her shoulder as she continued to smile at her parents. She had never heard such encouraging words from them. It was a new feeling, but Mila enjoyed it.

Mr. Davis cleared his throat, “Well, Mila, we have someone to meet at the house. Let’s go.” Her father took her bag from her and led them out to the car. He placed the bag in the trunk, then climbed into the car, on the right side, and started it up. Mila climbed in to the back seat and settled in. Mrs. Davis climbed into the passenger’s side, on the left.

“When we get to the house, we need to have a talk.” Mrs. Davis explained to her daughter. She watched her through the rear-view mirror. She was nervous for what she had to tell her daughter. It wasn’t something someone heard every day, or had to do every day.

Mila simply nodded her head. “Yes, mum.”

Mila stared out the window the whole car ride. She wondered what her mother was so worried to tell her, but chose to not push the subject further until they were home.

A foreign car sits in the drive way when Mr. Davis pulls up. He parks behind them and shuts the car off, then gets out. Mrs. Davis gets out as Mr. Davis gets Mila’s bag from the trunk. Mila climbs out of the car. She tries to see the people in the car, but her mother keeps blocking her view.

“Mila, take this, go inside. I need to talk to these people for a moment. Lydia, please go with her.” Mr. Davis shoved Mila’s bag toward her. Mila jumped back, but took the bag nonetheless, and followed her mother inside.

“Mum, what’s going on? Who are those people?” Mila slipped her shoes off by the door and placed her bag down, out of the way. She walked into the kitchen, where her mother was now making tea.

“Dear, you’ll find out in about five minutes. Please go sit down in the dining room and wait.” Her mother spoke softly, but Mila could tell she was getting frustrated. Mila walked into the dining room and sat down at the table. She stared at the front door of her house, waiting for her father to walk in with the people who were outside.

“Lydia?” Mr. Davis bellowed as he peaked inside the house. He looked around for his wife and spotted her in the kitchen after a few moments. He opened the door all the way to reveal three bodies, two of which Mila could only see.

The first one was a woman. She looked about middle age, had black hair, bright blue eyes. She was short, but slim. The other was a man. He was tall, had grey hair, and looked about middle age, also. The two were holding hands, an obvious indication that they were a couple. The third body, Mila could only see a mop of brown hair.

Mila sighed and slumped down in her seat. She couldn’t see the third person and it bothered her. She wanted to know who these people were. Mr. Davis led the three into the dining room.

That’s when Mila saw him. Tall, around six foot two inches, dark hair, and hazel eyes. He had tattoos all over his arms and neck. He was fairly attractive, Mila had to admit, but the tattoos are what ruined it for her. She hated tattoos, especially that many.

The man sat down beside Mila at the table, as instructed by the couple he was with. Mila could see the resemblance between him and the couple, then wondered if they were his parents.

Mr. and Mrs. Davis emerged from the kitchen with tea in hand. They placed a cup down in front of each person, then took their own seats across from the other couple.

“Mila, this is Carol and Ian Sykes. Oliver Sykes, the one beside you, is their first son. We have an arrangement for you two to get married.”