All Grown Up

Audrey

I went through the line of stretches with the rest of the ballerinas, trying not to wince as the final stretch tugged my ankle in an uncomfortable way. It had been bothering me for a few weeks now, ever since I rolled it during one of our performances.

That had been so embarrassing. It had happened on stage, in full view of the audience. I'd stumbled and barely recovered in time to keep dancing.

All those years of practice paid off, though. No matter how much my ankle hurt, I was able to finish out the routine with everyone else. I was sure adrenaline had something to do with it because the moment I walked off stage, I nearly collapsed with pain.

I couldn't let anyone know about it. We were coming up on the final show of the season, and if I could just make it until then, I could give it a rest, at least for a little while. Of course, I'd need to keep training and making myself stronger for the coming season, but I was sure that I could talk to a trainer and come up with a plan that would work.

If the director found out about my injury now, though, he would want me to sit out the final show, and that just wasn't going to happen.

I had been working toward this my whole life. I had left North Carolina behind the moment I graduated high school, taking off for Philadelphia to train at a conservatory there. Then, I'd been lucky enough to land a series of dream jobs working on different shows. But here at the Global Traveling Dance Academy of Performing Arts in Paris? That was above and beyond anything that I could ever have hoped for.

It had been two long and grueling years of practice, but all those hours of training, showing up early, listening to the director, smiling, and everything had finally paid off. I had worked my way up through the crew and landed the role that I wanted for this show.

I wasn't going to give that all up because of a stupid twisted ankle.

"Hey, Audrey, we're going to go to that gallery opening tonight if you'd like to join us," Sarah said as we wrapped up practice.

I slung my bag over my shoulder. A gallery opening meant plenty of standing around, and even though I could favor my uninjured ankle, I knew it would exhaust me. Better that I rest up, ice it, keep it elevated, and keep weight off it. I was disappointed because we'd been talking about this gallery opening for weeks now, but I wasn't going to let my social life come between me and my career.

I faked a yawn. "Honestly, I'm pretty beat," I said. "Think I'm just going to head home and go check things out another time. You ladies have fun, though."

Sarah groaned. "You're such a grandmother!" she said.

The other girls laughed, and I shrugged ruefully. Fortunately, Helene spoke up. "I am also a grandmother, I think," she said, grinning at me. "Because Audrey is right. All I want tonight is a bubble bath!"

There were more giggles, and I was glad to hear that I wasn't the only person who didn't want to go out that night. Part of hiding my injury meant making sure that none of the girls knew what was going on either.

It wasn't that I didn't trust them or that I wasn't good friends with all of them. To be honest, I had a feeling that they could all tell what was going on anyway. All of them had been dancing alongside me for over a year now, most of them for nearly two years. There wasn't much turnover in this kind of crew.

But the fewer people who knew what was going on, the better. The fewer of them who had any details about what was wrong, the fewer people who could accidentally share something with the director.

If I had been the only person to opt out on tonight's gallery opening, everyone would start to wonder if I was sick or what. And if they put two and two together and realized I was injured, well, that could be dangerous.

It seemed like the coast was clear for now, though.

Then the director himself pulled me into his office as I was on my way out of the building.

"Is everything all right?" I asked, trying to keep the cheer in my voice as he shut the door carefully behind us.

He sighed as he sat behind his desk. "Audrey," he said in his cut the crap tone of voice, the one that he normally only used when someone gave him lame excuses for why they were late.

I wracked my brains for any other reason that he could have brought me in there. Surely, he didn't realize that I was injured. I had done a good job of hiding it. Maybe he just wanted to talk to me about that performance. About the stumble.

If it had been embarrassing for me as a dancer, it must have been just as embarrassing for him as the director. He wanted a show that was flawless. Dancers, he liked to tell us, should look at all times as though they floated on water. Dancers, true dancers, weren't supposed to stumble.

When I didn't say anything, the director shook his head. "I know that you're injured," he finally said.

I felt my blood run cold, but I managed to pull out the response that I had prepared in case he ever caught on. I gave a small laugh. "You know how important my career is to me," I told him. "If there was anything seriously wrong, you know that I'd go to the academy's physician to get checked out."

In actual fact, I'd done my best not to limp out of there the night that I was injured. I knew that it wasn't broken, but I also knew that it hurt more than any injury that I'd ever had before. Not that I'd had many serious injuries. I'd been lucky, I'd been careful, and I made sure to do my stretches and my exercises even on my days off.

I knew that as soon as I got checked out by the academy's physician, my season was probably going to be over. If nothing else, he was going to tell me that I needed to take a week or two off to let myself rest, to let sore muscles heal and all of that.

That would mean that someone would step into my place, though, and that I probably wouldn't get to dance the final show of the season. And that meant that next year when they were assigning roles, they might give me something a little less "strenuous."

So instead, I'd gone to one of my friends who happened to be a doctor.

"It's not good," he said, pursing his lips. "You shouldn't dance on this." He moved my ankle from side to side, and I tried not to wince.

"But I could dance on it?" I asked him.

"You shouldn't," he repeated. "It would be very painful, I think."

"But would it make things any worse?" If it was just a matter of pain, I had spent my whole life dealing with the pain that came with dancing. Did he think that cramming my feet into ballet shoes was comfortable? Heck no! But at the end of the day, it was worth it, and I was sure that this would be as well.

The doctor pursed his lips. "I don't think so," he finally said. "You won't make it better by dancing on it, but you won't make it worse either, probably. But I wouldn't recommend it."

I flashed a smile at him. "That's all I needed to know."

Back in the present, the director was giving me a look. "Audrey," he said again. "I can tell that something must be wrong with it. It's been weeks now, and you're still favoring your left ankle. Why haven't you gone to see the physician?"

I looked down at my hands, feeling ashamed. "I saw a doctor," I admitted. "Not the academy one but another one. He said that it would be fine to dance on. That I probably won't make it worse."

The director shook his head. "That's not good enough," he said. "And quite frankly, I don't like that you tried to hide this from me." He paused. "I know that this dance troupe is important to you, but you know that your health and the health of all of my dancers is my priority over anything else. I won't take responsibility for this injury sidelining you for the rest of your life. You're too young for a career-ending injury."

"This won't be that," I protested. "I really did have it checked out. It's sore, but there's nothing broken or torn. It'll be fine soon. Really."

"That's not good enough," the director repeated, shaking his head. "I'm sending you on a six-month recovery leave."

Audrey

I stared at him, sure that I hadn't heard him correctly or that he was just trying to scare me and that he would laugh soon. Not that he was that kind of man. Of course, he didn't laugh, and I faced the chilling truth of things, that he was really planning on sending me on a six-month leave.

In silence, he continued to watch me for a reaction.

"You can't do that," I finally said. He raised an eyebrow at me. "I mean, of course you can do that. But I don't need six months."

Suddenly, the end of the season seemed minor in relation to everything else. Six months would mean that I would miss out on casting for the fall's roles and all of the training and everything else.

It would put me behind, to a point where I might never come back, no matter how much I wanted to. "Just give me a month off," I pleaded. "And then I'll see the academy's physician to make sure that everything is all right."

The director shook his head. "Six months," he said levelly. "You know injuries can't heal overnight. You need time off to rest it, and then you'll need time to train yourself back up to your full strength. That's the way it goes. I think six months gives you enough time that you won't have to rush anything." He was quiet for a moment. "Go home and see your family. It's been a long time."

I frowned. The thing about the Global Traveling Dance Academy of Performing Arts was that there were no secrets. It was what I had been worrying about with the injury in general. I didn't think that I had ever had an in-depth conversation with the director of the academy about my home, but everyone knew that I hadn't been home in a while and that I didn't have any desire to go home anytime soon.

Now, it seemed like I didn't have any choice.

"We'll reimburse you for your flight," the director said. "And you don't have to go home. That's just a suggestion. But you won't be able to live in the academy dorms during your leave. You have until the next show to leave."

I stared at him, shocked beyond comprehension. "Five days?" I finally asked, my voice faint. "I've lived here for two years, and you're giving me five days to move out? Why, so that someone else can take my place?"

"No one else is going to take your place," he said firmly. The way he said it gave me a little bit of hope, but all the same, I was scared.

"I don't need six months," I repeated again.

"I want you to take six months," he said, his voice gentle. "Audrey, you know that I love how important this position is for you, but I like well-rounded dancers on my crew. People who can bring their other experiences and their other passions to everything that they can do. People who can bring their emotions to this academy."

I stared at him. "You don't think that I'm good enough?" I asked, my voice nearly a whisper.

"I never said that," he said impatiently. "But what I want you to spend the next months doing is exploring your other interests and passions. I want you to come back here ready to push the envelope even more. I know that there are hidden depths to you that we have yet to reach." He smiled at me. "Call it research if you prefer."

I swallowed hard. The idea that I was doing this to make my dancing better didn't make the six months of leave feel any better, but what choice did I have?

I nodded and stood abruptly, heading out of there. I called Mom when I was halfway home. She sounded surprised to hear from me. "What's up, twinkle toes?" she asked, using the nickname she'd given me when I was younger.

"Could I come home for a little while?" I asked, even though I was sure that I knew the answer. Mom had been asking for me to come home for a while now. And each time, it seemed that something came up. Often by design.

I couldn't imagine going back to Aberdeen, North Carolina now. I would be bored to tears after two years of living in Paris. Bored to tears and lonely.

I would miss all my friends here, the amazing women that I'd trained with, that I had spent nearly every day with over the past two years. And anyway, Mom had been good about coming to see me abroad as often as she could. It wasn't like we didn't see one another.

I didn't exactly want to go home now, but I could at least go home for a couple of weeks, maybe a month, until I figured out what else to do. I couldn't really afford to joyride around the world for the next six months. I had to figure out some sort of plan to support myself when I wasn't dancing.

I remembered what the director had said about using this as if it were research. What exactly did he think I was going to find back in the small towns and fields of North Carolina anyway?

"Of course you can come home!" Mom said excitedly, and I could tell that she was beaming. "When will you be here?"

"I'll send you all the flight details," I said, trying not to sigh too heavily.

I got off the phone and booked my flight for two days later, going so far as to book it in business class. If the Academy was going to reimburse me, then they could bite the cost. The director didn't even blink when I went in to his office the next day and showed him the details. Instead, he just nodded and filled out the paperwork for me to have the cost reimbursed as part of my next paycheck.

My final paycheck. Possibly forever. I tried not to think about that.

Instead, for the next two days, I thought about everything that would be different when I got home. I'd seen my younger sister a few times since I'd left for the conservatory, but in the back of my head, I still thought of her as fifteen. We hadn't chatted in a while, and I barely knew what she was doing with her life, except that she was still wasting time living at home.

Would she and I still get along like we always had before? And what about my mother's new boyfriend? What was he like? Ugh, I didn't want to think about him. From what Mom had told me about him already, he sounded like a total tool. The fact that he was already living with her after they'd only been dating for a matter of months said all that I needed to know about him.

I was going to have to be in the same house with all of them, at least until I figured out what I was going to do next.

Maybe if I took it easy for the first month and then trained hard after I recovered, I'd be able to get the director to reassess that whole six-month thing. I could only hope so.

Jesse

I cut into the meat that was simmering on the stove and nodded approvingly. It was just the perfect amount of pink. I turned the stove off and transferred a portion to a plate, scooping out some rosemary-roasted potatoes and steamed vegetables onto the side. Then, I headed into the living room and watched the news as I savored the delicious meal.

Afterward, comfortably full, I headed back into the kitchen to put away the leftovers and clean the dishes, still listening with half an ear to the news in the other room. It was my nightly ritual, polished down to an art. There was no better way to relax at the end of a long day of work than to come home and cook a good, satisfying meal and get caught up on what was going on with the world beyond this small town in North Carolina.

Like most of the other people my age around here, I had once thought only about how I was going to get the hell out of here. But shit changes. I had responsibilities here, and even though I liked to keep up with what was going on around the world, I'd probably live here for the rest of my life.

Someone knocked on the front door, and I glanced at the clock as I wiped my hands off on my apron. I rolled my eyes and went to answer it. "How many times do I have to tell you to quit knocking and just walk in?" I asked Joe with a grin. He was my best friend, after all; no reason for him to stand on propriety.

Joe smiled as usual and shrugged. "Sorry, you know I'm still scarred by that time I walked in and your mom was in here with curlers in her hair, singing opera while she cleaned. That lady sure was a character."

I snorted as I led him out to the back porch, detouring to shut off the TV as I went. Joe made a face when he saw that I was watching the news, but he didn't say anything. I knew he thought I was a nerd. I didn't give a shit.

Truth was, Joe was pretty damn smart himself. It was why I liked having him as a friend and as the assistant manager of my shop. He was one of the only kids from our class who was still hanging around town without starting all the bullshit of a family and whatever. He still came over every Friday night to knock back a few drinks with me. We were well past the stage of playing beer pong and passing out on kitchen floors, but some things would never change.

Whenever I got into a funk about the fact that I was still here in Aberdeen, I thought about that. Hanging out with Joe and my other friends around town was right up there on the list of things that I would miss if I left. We had grown up together, and those guys knew me better than anyone else ever could. I would have been far lonelier if I had moved off to some big and heartless city, I was sure.

It was a warm evening, and I gladly accepted the beer that Joe handed me. He set the cooler down between the two Adirondacks and grabbed a beer for himself as well. "Shop's been doing good, eh?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Same as usual," I said, taking a sip of my beer. "Gearing up for a busy summer. Memorial Day weekend's coming right up, and you know that means people are thinking about decks and picnic tables and whatever else."

"How's the new kid doing?" Joe asked, squinting over at me. "Is he actually going to be any help to us?"

"Yep," I said, nodding. "Chance has got his third shift tomorrow morning." I grinned. "It's been pretty amusing training him. He's a bit of a lost cause."

Joe chuckled. "Somebody in this town had to take pity on his ass and hire him," he joked.

"Misfits got to stick together," I retorted, shrugging, and Joe laughed.

"Yeah, but we all knew you were a hard worker," he reminded me. "A weirdo but a hard worker. There's a difference. It's a wonder he hasn't managed to hammer his head to the table yet."

"Guess so," I said. "But either way, everyone's got to have a job."

We chatted for a little while until Joe caught me yawning for the third time. He laughed and glanced at his watch. "Guess I should let you get to sleep, huh?" he asked. "Old man."

I snorted. "You're not the one who needs to get up at five every morning to get the shop open."

"You wouldn't have to get up so early if you'd sell off this place and move closer to town," Joe reminded me.

I shrugged. We'd talked about it again and again over the years. There was a certain amount of inconvenience with living way the hell out here, but at the same time, I liked the quiet. Besides, there were memories here. My parents had been the ones whose neighbors lived farthest away, so half the parties that we'd had when we were younger, and all the ones that we'd had since my parents had passed, had been held here.

My old comfortable couch was where Jessica had first kissed Bobby. The end table beside it was permanently stained from the time someone gave Mike a handful of permanent markers mid-party while he was stoned out of his mind. The stain on the floor over there was from when Greg decked Joe because he thought Joe was trying to sleep with his kid sister.

There were memories here that I never wanted to leave behind.

"I'm here for good, and you know that," I told Joe. "Now get out of here so I can go to bed."

"What, not going to offer me the couch tonight?" Joe asked, mock-offended. "Where's that southern hospitality when you need it?"

I laughed. "Trust me, as soon as I trust the kid to open up on his own, we can have a rollicking blowout of a night and pass out wherever the fuck you'd like. But he's not trained to that point just yet, and I don't want to scare the poor guy."

Joe shook his head. "If we've got to wait until you trust him to open up shop on his own, we're going to be waiting until hell freezes over," he lamented.

"Hey, it snowed here in Aberdeen last winter," I reminded him. "That's pretty damned close to hell freezing over. Could happen again."

Joe grinned and pointed a finger at me. "I'm not waiting until next winter for that blowout," he warned me.

I rolled my eyes. "All right. But it's not happening tonight."

The truth was, though, that when the door closed behind him, before I started a podcast on my phone, it was so damned quiet living out here in the middle of nowhere. Once, that had comforted me, but now, the silence just seemed to ring in my ears.

"Maybe I'll get a dog," I said, heading upstairs to bed and setting my phone down on the nightstand.

Yeah, getting a dog might be nice, but at least living here in Aberdeen wasn't half as lonely as living anywhere else would have been.