kisses me again, and whispers, a sly smile turning up his mouth, “That one’s for the poppy seed.”
The baby’s bigger than a poppy seed now but the nickname’s stuck. When I step onto the platform, I look over my shoulder, just to see the love in his eyes one last time and hope it holds me through the day. We didn’t scrape off all our rust and we didn’t really talk about what happened. We haven’t faced what’s coming for us, but if we can get through today, then we can get through tomorrow. And then we can get through the day after that.
One foot in front of the other. As Sofia likes to say with a wicked gleam in her eye, “It’s all about your
attitude
.”
When I walk in the doors of the classroom and drop my bags by the front door, I tell myself to let go of everything in the outside world. Pulling socks over my feet, I begin a litany of all the things I need to leave behind.
Zed.
Baby.
Madison.
It’s harder when one of those things is inside of you and another one will be right next to you for the next hour, her spandex-covered butt in your face.
So really, I only leave Zed out of the studio. And I can feel both the secret of my pregnancy and Madison getting right under my skin. On my day off yesterday, I spent an inordinate amount of time in front of the full-length mirrors by the barre in our living room. And I decided, even at seven weeks pregnant, I definitely looked bigger. Because of this, I’m wearing cutoff sweatpants and a warm-up sweater over my tights and leotard.
Given that I don’t normally cover up my body, I’ve attracted attention for it. Sofia tilts her head when she starts to warm up next to me but doesn’t say anything. Then Madison walks into the room, a few minutes late like she always is. She glances at me, then does a double take.
A sliver of a smile turns up the corners of her mouth. “Cold, Alyona?”
Yevgeny slides his body between us at the barre, winking at me over his shoulder. I have to summon the strength to smirk back at him as Lila sweeps into the room, her graying hair pulled up magnificently and
dancer
still written in her movements.
Cold. Fat. Interchangeable, really. I don’t care what she calls me as long as I keep this pregnancy a secret as long as I can. I can’t handle the thought of losing it, or my job, and both of those possibilities feel like inevitabilities right now.
The door bumps open and Jonathan crosses the room with two coffees in his hands. He’s been coming into our morning class as well as rehearsals. Casting for
Jewels
and its three parts:
Emeralds
,
Rubies
, and
Diamonds
, and the Dawson ballet
A
Million Kisses to My Skin
should be posted today or tomorrow and I feel sick from the pressure. I’ve never doubted my ability to get a role like I do right now.
You aren’t dancing like you can.
You’re gaining weight.
He’s going to notice.
He’ll know before everyone else that something’s up with me. He has a creepy good sense of when I’m off, just like Zed does. And he’s known me longer than anyone else in this room.
He gives one of the coffees to Lila and takes a long drag from his own. Our eyes meet in the mirror and he nods to me just before I snap my attention back to Sofia’s bun in front of me.
As we move from barre exercises into center work, I can’t tear my eyes off my reflection. Usually I only check myself in the mirror if I’m told to look at myself in the mirror. Mirrors tend to bring too much baggage with them, especially for me. Mirrors make me a technical perfectionist, at the expense of artistry or any sign of me. I’d rather be a dancer than a robot.
But today, I keep checking myself, as I imagine a small tiny human inside of me, turning and twirling and stretching as I do. My hands want to touch my stomach and my balance feels off and I can’t tell if it’s my body or my mind, whether nausea is real or psychosomatic. As we leap into the air, I can see in the mirrors that technically my jumps
The baby’s bigger than a poppy seed now but the nickname’s stuck. When I step onto the platform, I look over my shoulder, just to see the love in his eyes one last time and hope it holds me through the day. We didn’t scrape off all our rust and we didn’t really talk about what happened. We haven’t faced what’s coming for us, but if we can get through today, then we can get through tomorrow. And then we can get through the day after that.
One foot in front of the other. As Sofia likes to say with a wicked gleam in her eye, “It’s all about your
attitude
.”
When I walk in the doors of the classroom and drop my bags by the front door, I tell myself to let go of everything in the outside world. Pulling socks over my feet, I begin a litany of all the things I need to leave behind.
Zed.
Baby.
Madison.
It’s harder when one of those things is inside of you and another one will be right next to you for the next hour, her spandex-covered butt in your face.
So really, I only leave Zed out of the studio. And I can feel both the secret of my pregnancy and Madison getting right under my skin. On my day off yesterday, I spent an inordinate amount of time in front of the full-length mirrors by the barre in our living room. And I decided, even at seven weeks pregnant, I definitely looked bigger. Because of this, I’m wearing cutoff sweatpants and a warm-up sweater over my tights and leotard.
Given that I don’t normally cover up my body, I’ve attracted attention for it. Sofia tilts her head when she starts to warm up next to me but doesn’t say anything. Then Madison walks into the room, a few minutes late like she always is. She glances at me, then does a double take.
A sliver of a smile turns up the corners of her mouth. “Cold, Alyona?”
Yevgeny slides his body between us at the barre, winking at me over his shoulder. I have to summon the strength to smirk back at him as Lila sweeps into the room, her graying hair pulled up magnificently and
dancer
still written in her movements.
Cold. Fat. Interchangeable, really. I don’t care what she calls me as long as I keep this pregnancy a secret as long as I can. I can’t handle the thought of losing it, or my job, and both of those possibilities feel like inevitabilities right now.
The door bumps open and Jonathan crosses the room with two coffees in his hands. He’s been coming into our morning class as well as rehearsals. Casting for
Jewels
and its three parts:
Emeralds
,
Rubies
, and
Diamonds
, and the Dawson ballet
A
Million Kisses to My Skin
should be posted today or tomorrow and I feel sick from the pressure. I’ve never doubted my ability to get a role like I do right now.
You aren’t dancing like you can.
You’re gaining weight.
He’s going to notice.
He’ll know before everyone else that something’s up with me. He has a creepy good sense of when I’m off, just like Zed does. And he’s known me longer than anyone else in this room.
He gives one of the coffees to Lila and takes a long drag from his own. Our eyes meet in the mirror and he nods to me just before I snap my attention back to Sofia’s bun in front of me.
As we move from barre exercises into center work, I can’t tear my eyes off my reflection. Usually I only check myself in the mirror if I’m told to look at myself in the mirror. Mirrors tend to bring too much baggage with them, especially for me. Mirrors make me a technical perfectionist, at the expense of artistry or any sign of me. I’d rather be a dancer than a robot.
But today, I keep checking myself, as I imagine a small tiny human inside of me, turning and twirling and stretching as I do. My hands want to touch my stomach and my balance feels off and I can’t tell if it’s my body or my mind, whether nausea is real or psychosomatic. As we leap into the air, I can see in the mirrors that technically my jumps
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