You Can’t Fall in Love With Your Ex (Can You?) (27 page)

With
no clothes on, I couldn’t follow him. I called his name, but he didn’t listen.
So I retreated into my dressing room, dressed and came home, numb with shock
and hurt.

I
lay in the bath for almost an hour, long after the water had lost what little
heat it had started out with. I scrubbed my skin until it was red and sore,
trying to rid myself of the memory of Marius’s touch. Even after I’d cleaned my
teeth, I could still taste his tongue in my mouth. Eventually, too cold to stay
in the water any longer, I dried myself and dressed, shivering, pulling an old
jumper of Felix’s on over my jeans, as if it could provide the comfort I needed
from him. I made tea and sat on the sofa, the jumper pulled over my knees,
cradling the mug for warmth. I couldn’t drink the tea, though – when I tried to
swallow my throat closed up and I felt as if I’d be sick. I dialled Felix’s
phone over and over, but he didn’t answer.

At
last, I heard a key in the lock and felt a wave of relief – but it was only
Roddy.

“Hey,
Laura,” he didn’t flop down on the sofa, or go into the kitchen, or fling open
the fridge and complain that there was never any fucking food in this place, as
he usually did. He hovered in the doorway, looking at me.

“Roddy,”
I said. “Something’s happened.”

“Yeah,”
he said. “I saw Lawsonski earlier. He’s not a happy bunny.”

“It’s
Marius,” I said. “Roddy, he…”

“Laura,
don’t drag me into this. Seriously, you guys need to sort it out. You’re my
friends, but I’m not getting involved. Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

I
gripped my mug harder, shock hitting me like a punch in the stomach. “What do
you mean?”

“Look,
you aren’t the first person to do what it takes to get a part, and you won’t be
the last. It’s just – you guys seemed so happy, that’s all. You must’ve known
he’d find out.”

“But
I didn’t!” I said. “Is that what Felix told you?”

He
shook his head. “That’s what the whole company is saying.”

I
thought of the hours I’d spent alone in my dressing room, or rehearsing my
solos with Felix, and I imagined it. I knew how it worked – our lives were so
insular, our days in many ways so repetitive, that any juicy piece of gossip
got handed round and chewed to death until it was flavourless and finished, and
the next bit of news got started. It had never occurred to me that people would
talk about me – invent lies about me and Marius. Just thinking about it flooded
with a full-body blush of mortification.

“Roddy,
I didn’t!” I said again. “Jesus, what do you think I am? He’s old, he’s
disgusting. He must be almost fifty. He’s our
boss
.”

“All
the more reason to shag him,” Roddy said. “Because he’d be extra grateful.”

“He
came to my dressing room and groped me,” I said. “It was awful. I didn’t know
what to do. And then Felix saw us. It was just this afternoon – he never, ever
touched me before and I hope he never does again.”

My
breath was coming in shallow gasps, and I started to cry. Roddy disappeared
into the bathroom and returned with a wad of loo roll. He sat down next to me
and put his arm around me.

“You
don’t believe me, do you?” I sobbed.

“Look,
everyone knows Marius is a dirty old bastard,” he said. “But he’s never exactly
been short of offers, if you know what I mean. People know what’s in it for
them. It’ll blow over, Laura.”

“But
I didn’t do anything wrong! He… he assaulted me. And everyone’s going to listen
to a load of gossip and not believe me.”

“It’s
your word against his,” Roddy said. “People are going to say you were fucking
him and you didn’t want your boyfriend to find out, and then when he did you
cried rape. I believe you, Laura. But I don’t think a lot of other people will.
Did he – I mean, what did he do exactly?”

I
told him.

“Oh,
babe. That’s horrible. But you’re okay, right? He didn’t hurt you?”

I
wanted to explain to him how I felt, the crawling horror of Marius’s hands
invading my body, the shock and helplessness I felt when he kissed me, the
shame of knowing that everyone thought I’d offered myself to him in exchange
for a promotion I wasn’t good enough to earn any other way. But I couldn’t. I
wished Mel was there – she would understand. Or she would have done, back when
we were still friends.

And
then, with a sickening lurch, understanding came to me.

“Roddy,
Mel started this story about Marius and me, didn’t she?”

“I
couldn’t possibly say,” Roddy said. “You know how it is – no one’s talking
about something, then everyone is. If it was her, you won’t be able to prove
it, same as you can’t prove he did what you’re telling me.”

I
stared at him. His face was full of concern, but his words belied it.

“Are
you saying there’s nothing I can do about it? Are you telling me I just have to
suck it up?”

“No!
Well, actually, yes, I guess I am. What’s the alternative?”

“I
could go to management. Talk to our union rep. Tell Anna. There must be something I can
do.”

“Laura,
if you did that and you couldn’t prove anything – which you can’t – it’ll
totally fuck your career. You know that.”

I
mopped my eyes with the loo roll, which was soaked through with my tears. I
knew he was right. I imagined going through months of meetings and tribunals,
reliving what Marius had done over and over again, until the telling became
more real than the thing itself and I could barely believe myself any more. I
imagined having to face Marius and accuse him, and how he’d laugh at me and
deny it all. I imagined where that would leave me when eventually it all came
to an end – relegated to the Corps de Ballet, until the time came for my
contract to be renewed, and then it not being.

And,
I thought, if I did persuade Felix to believe me, and he took my side and
supported me, he’d be tainted by association, our careers crashing and burning
in perfect unison, a pas de deux of failure.

“It
would, wouldn’t it?” I said to Roddy, outrage and disbelief fighting the
certain knowledge that he was right.

“Babe,
it just would. None of us like it, but there it is. So there’s no point getting
yourself worked up about it. Talk to Lawsonski tonight, tell him what happened,
kiss and make up. Then put it behind you. Walk on that stage tomorrow and be a
star, prove to everyone that no matter what they think, you are good enough.
And everyone will move on to the next juicy bit of scandal soon enough. That’s
my advice.”

Roddy
was my friend – my oldest and closest, since Mel and I weren’t friends any
more. I trusted him – I thought I was doing the right thing to follow his
guidance. Even with hindsight, it probably was right – or it would have been,
had things turned out differently.

“Okay,
I guess,” I said.

Then
Roddy poured me a massive vodka, made me scrambled eggs on toast, massaged my
feet and sat with me watching old episodes of
Buffy
until we were both
nodding off on the sofa.

But
Felix didn’t come home.

At
midnight, Roddy said, “Sweetie, I need to get my beauty sleep, and you should,
too. Want a cuppa before bed?”

“I’m
okay,” I said. “I’ll stay up for a bit, just in case.”

“Try
not to stress about it. He’ll have crashed on someone’s floor. He just needs to
make a point, and you two can talk about it tomorrow and soon you’ll be cooing
away at each other again like the lovebirds you are. Listen to Uncle Roddy. I
know what I’m talking about.”

Roddy
might have had lots of sex, but he knew even less about relationships than I
did. Still, I was desperate to believe him, and I tried to, but I still
couldn’t bring myself to go to bed – to the bed that Felix and I had shared for
the past eight blissful months, to lie in the sheets where we’d made love the
night before, that smelled of him and of us. I didn’t know, then, that I’d
never sleep there with him again, but I felt a superstitious dread of waking up
in the morning and him still not being there.

I
took the sleeping bag that Felix had brought with the rest of his meagre
belongings when he’d moved in – if you can call turning up with a backpack and
a third of the rent ‘moving in’ – and curled up miserably on the sofa. It was
the night before my first ever big part – I knew I should be feeling nervous,
but this horrible sense of dread was something entirely different.

I
slept fitfully, on high alert for the sound of Felix’s feet on the stairs, his
key in the lock, but it never came. And when Roddy’s alarm clock trilled at
eight the next morning, I was already awake, anxiously checking and rechecking
my phone for a voicemail or text I knew wasn’t there.

There
was no pandering to soloists on the day of an opening night. I was expected to
turn up for class as usual, so I did. Roddy stuck by me, pretending
cheerfulness, greeting his friends and clowning around as usual. But I noticed
the glances people gave me, the whispers I couldn’t quite hear, Mel’s feline
malevolence as she glanced towards me without meeting my eyes. I couldn’t
believe I’d been so oblivious, caught in my bubble of pride and excitement, that
I hadn’t noticed any of it before.

Felix
didn’t show up to class, but he couldn’t miss our final rehearsal in the
afternoon. When I came into the studio after lunch – the lunch I’d been
completely unable to eat – he was there, talking to Anna as if nothing had
happened.

I
waited, silently, and watched. Anna was explaining a point of choreography to
Felix, suggesting that his arms might be better in a different shape.

“As
if you’re moving through water, pushing against resistance,” I heard her say.

Felix
moved his arms as directed.

“Good,
yes, just like that.”

Felix
nodded and turned away, smiling. Then he saw me, and his features froze again
into still indifference.

But
his cold composure couldn’t hide the ravages of a sleepless night. I’d seen
Felix hungover often enough to know the signs: the dark hollows under his
bloodshot eyes, the smell of smoke in his hair, the infinitesimal delay in his
response to the musical cues.

Somehow,
we got through that rehearsal, but as the hour went on, I found my shock and
hurt turning to anger. How could he be so fucking selfish? He’d danced major
leading roles before, but I hadn’t – this was the biggest night of my career,
and he’d chosen to jeopardise it. Of course he was hurting – but he could have
talked to me about what he’d seen and heard, let me reassure him that I loved
him, I hadn’t been unfaithful, it was all malicious and untrue.

At
last, Anna said, “That will do for now. Go and get some rest.”

Felix
shouldered his bag and headed for the door, and I followed, desperate to talk
to him, explain what had happened and make things right between us.

But
Anna said, “Just a moment, please, Laura.”

I
paused, wanting to ask her if it couldn’t wait until later, but the habit of
obedience to my teachers was too deeply ingrained.

“Yes,
Anna?”

“This
wedding dance, Laura, is all about Princess Aurora coming to womanhood. During
it, she stops being a coquettish girl and becomes confident and sensual. We’ve
seen that in you, this last few months. That’s why I felt you would be perfect
to dance the role, and I supported Marius’s decision to cast you.”

I
felt tears prick my eyes – she was absolutely right. But I didn’t feel like a
confident, sensual woman today, that was for sure. I felt like a frightened,
lonely child. I nodded silently, knowing that if I tried to speak, I’d cry.

“We
all have times in our careers when we have to overcome adversity,” she went on.
“When I danced Odette-Odile in
Swan Lake
– a very long time ago – I’d just
discovered I was pregnant. Halfway through the run, I miscarried. I missed one
show, then the next night I was back on stage. It was the hardest thing I’ve
ever done.”

“I’m
sorry,” I muttered. “That must have been awful.”

“I’m
not telling you this for sympathy,” she said. “I know you’re going through a
difficult time right now – you think you’re hiding it well, but you’re not. The
sparkle you’ve been showing, that made your interpretation of this role so
magical – it wasn’t there today.”

I
looked down at my feet and shook my head. “I guess it wasn’t.”

“Is
there anything you need to talk to me about?” she said. “Working with you young
girls – I think sometimes we focus too much on technique, on developing you as
dancers, and not enough on taking care of you.”

My
eyes swimming with tears, I forced myself to look up at her. Her face was full
of concern. I was almost sure she’d listen to me if I told her what had
happened – but then I remembered Roddy’s advice: talk to Felix, put it behind
you, walk on stage and be a star. If I hurried, I would be able to catch up
Felix up on the roof smoking a cigarette. On this cold, raw afternoon, I might
find him alone.