Strings

"One two three, one two three four, one two three . . ." and on and on I danced and Madame Victorovna counted to the music. My muscles ached, my legs hurt, but still I pushed on. Madam taught me long ago that beauty was pain and without the pain one couldn't simply be beautiful. So I danced the Sleeping Beauty as if I was Aurora incarnate. My movements flowed with the music and as I danced all the pressure I was feeling disappeared and all that mattered was dancing.

I'd started dancing when I was seven. My mother wanted to see me in pink tulle tutus and dance as a painted flower on stage. I think neither of us thought I'd have knack for it, let alone stick with it all these years. Dancing was a way to calm myself - even with Madame breathing fire down my neck and pushing me till I fell and cried in pain. When I dance I disappear and become a fairytale character who has a happy ending no matter what.

"One two three and finish," I lay on the ground feigning sleep after pricking my finger on the spindle. "Bon bon," she said in French in her deep Russian accent. "You will set the world on fire with your dancing one day my dear." Madame has told me this about a thousand times. When I'm finished dancing I imagine what it would be like to be a prima ballerina. Then I remember to do that I have to give up a husband and children until I'm in my late thirties and that's too long of a wait.

"My dear Agatha you will be sensational on stage. They will all compare you to Anna Pavlova and say she does not hold a candle to you." I tried not to sneer at her. No one compared to Anna Pavlova.

"You flatter Madame," I bowed and turned to leave the stage.

"Wait Agatha," I turned back to her. "This is for you." She walked towards the front of the stage and threw a think manila envelope at me. "Do not thank me just yet for that." She left the auditorium. I picked the envelope up and opened it.

It was an acceptance to dance in the New York City Ballet Company. Only the best of the best got accepted. I stared at the paper for a moment before falling down on the stage. I sat there for a good hour or so just thinking.

Dancing. Dancing. Dancing. How could I waste my life dancing. I had other dreams and passions. Dancing was just a hobby, but to be accepted to dance in the New York City Ballet is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I had no idea what to do. I knew I was good but I could only imagine the strings Madame had to pull to get me into the company. How could I disappoint her like this? It would crush her.

I was up and running backstage before I knew what I was doing. I didn't bother changing out of my black leotard or my Pointe shoes. I grabbed my pink jacket and ran out the back door into the street. I ran the 20 blocks to the hospital. Mom was working, she'd texted me before ballet class to let me know she wouldn't be home for dinner. I didn't know what I was going to say to her but I needed someone to talk to. To help me think straight and make my decisions for me.

"Where is Dr. Lansdale?" I asked the receptionist at the front. She whipped her long red hair back with a swipe of her hand and sneered at me.

"Why?" Rude much?

"Because I'm her daughter and I'd like to know where my mother is!" I snapped. She looked me up and down and frowned at my attire. I glared and snapped my fingers in front of her face. "Today would be nice!"

"Dr. Lansdale is in surgery. It's gonna be a little while." I turned and stormed off towards the elevators. I would wait in the cafeteria. No way was I going home so I could listen dad talk about law school and his alma mater.

My phone went off in the elevator. The screen read home. Dad, wonderful. "Hello," I said.

"Don't hate me but I had to know. I checked the mail when I got home and there was thick envelope in there for you from Harvard and well I couldn't wait for you to come home so I opened it," I gasped.

"Dad that's a federal offence!" I exclaimed. The elevator doors opened at the same time and I apparently scared the wits out of an old woman because when the doors opened she screamed, "I didn't do it!"

"Sorry," I mumbled and stepped out of the elevator. "Dad can I talk to you later."

"YOU GOT INTO HARVARD!" I dropped my phone. Somewhere in the distance I could hear my father sing the school song, but mostly I heard the blood pounding in my ears. A whooshing noise was building with the pounding, and the room was growing dim. I found I couldn't breathe and then there was darkness.



"Blood pressure is normal, heart rate is good, respiratory and temperature is all fine. Actually she is waking up." My eye fluttered open and a blurry figure was standing over me. I blinked a few time before I could distinguish it was doctor. "Hello Ms. . . .?"

"Lansdale," I croaked. "Aggie please," I corrected him.

"Are you Dr. Lansdale's daughter?" The doctor was in his early thirties maybe younger. Handsome. Blonde hair, green eyes, a five o'clock shadow, and a dimple in his right cheek because he was smiling. He had a boyish charm about him, but something underneath screamed MAN!

I looked over just in time to see a nurse fleeing the room.

"Uh yeah I am."

"Well we can page her but she's in surgery so it won't matter," his hand touched my wrist. Checking my pulse. I wonder if he felt it quicken at his touch.

"Uh no it's fine. I had a little panic attack." Lies. I had a huge panic attack.

"Do you have them often?"

"Uh no Dr. . .?"

"Salem. Erik Salem. When was the last panic attack you had before this one."

"About four years ago when I was starting high school. Now that I'm graduating I've been feeling panicky a lot lately."

"Well I suggest you take it easy. Stay calm and don't let yourself get overwhelmed. No good can come from that. If you start feeling overwhelmed take deep breaths, sit down, and think of something soothing." He touched my arm, and swooping sensations rammed into my gut.

"You got it," I smiled at him.

"Have you decided where you want to go to school? You're mother keeps boasting about you going to Berkley even though you haven't been accepted yet." He chuckled and it was deep and more manly than any other sound I'd ever heard.

"Uh no and I don't know what to do. Everything is um out of um . . . "

"Whoa breathe Aggie breathe," I took a couple deep breaths trying to make the fuzziness leave my brain. The room repositioned itself. "I see what's triggering these attacks. Maybe you shouldn't choose right now."

"It's not choosing. It's hurting people I care about." I finally admitted it. I told one of my secrets to handsome Dr. Salem.

"It's your life," if only it were that easy.

"It's more than that. My dad wants Harvard and my mom wants Berkley and my best friend wants UCLA and my dance teacher wants the New York Ballet and . . . " I debated whether say my boyfriend or not. It's not like it mattered. He was too old, to successful, and too damn gorgeous for me. "And my boyfriend wants to travel the world."

"So?" I gaped at him.

"So how am I supposed to choose without hurting the people I care about most." He laughed. I glared at him. How dare he laugh at me!

"Who cares what they want. What do you want?"

"What do I want?" How to answer that without sounding crazy. Though my choice to me wasn't crazy and maybe a stranger wouldn't think so either. "I want to end school and I don't want to dance my life away, and I don't want to travel. I want to fall in love again. Get married, settle down, have lots of babies. I want to spoil my husband and children and be the model mother. Not like the ones from the fifties though who were so boozed up they couldn't tell which kid was theirs and which kid belonged to the neighbors. No I want to be the mom who bakes homemade cookies, and does the PTA, and girl scouts, and actually watch my children grow up."

"What's stopping you from having all that?" I sighed. He didn't call me crazy and he didn't patronize me either.

"I don't know," I answered. Which was a lie. I knew perfectly well what was stopping me. Myself and my own stupid fear.

"Aggie you can have all of that. All you have to do is make it happen." He touched my arm again and the swooping feeling came back. I smiled back a little too enthusiastically. I'm sure I looked crazy now. "Well I think you're okay here. All you have to do is sign some forms and then you can be on your way."

"Okay," he helped me out of the bed and my head spun. My knees buckled and he caught me.

"Whoa," I moaned.

"Just take it easy," he held me up until I was steady enough on my own. I looked up and his face was less than an inch away. I gasped and pulled away. "Um I'll get those forms," he mumbled and rushed out of the room. I sat back down and took a couple of those deep breaths he advised me on, but they weren't for a panic attack. They were for a whole different kind of an attack.