Narrow Girls on a Blue Profound Stage by Lisa L. Sellge

Author:Lisa L. Sellge
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, coming of age, performance, california, lesbian, dance, 1980s, theatre, ballet, lgbtq
Publisher: Propertius Press

Chapter 14

In the morning I woke to low conversation in the kitchen. Mother’s words were thick and short. A sense of dread went through me. Perhaps it was guilt. Or intuition. But I knew they were talking about me. My father was finishing breakfast that Mother set for him every morning. Cereal and tea were laid before him with the right amount of wheat germ sprinkled on his cereal and the right amount of milk in his tea. On any weekday morning he would finish quickly and leave for work, not returning until late at night. I crept out of bed and stood at the edge of the kitchen. Mother looked up.

“You’re up early,” Mother said looking up from her preparations, “But since you are, we want to talk to you.”

“Can this wait until tonight?” said my father.

“I’d rather not,” she said to him.

“What is this about?” I asked. I pushed fear back. Tried to sound calm.

“Well, quite simply we want you to take a break from the studio,” Mother said, “for a number of reasons.”

I was momentarily speechless. I wondered if this was what it felt like to bleed internally. Swallowing hard, I wanted to ask questions. I wanted to tear away pieces of their arguments. I did not want to understand their intentions.

“We know you’re a good dancer,” said my father, releasing his breath, “and we don’t want to stifle you. But we believe you’re in over your head with these older people at the studio.”

I stared frantically past him, searching for a simple rebuttal that would make it all go away. There was none forthcoming, so he continued. His words were marbles rolling in chaos across the floor. I could not find sense in them. My heart only raced as I grasped at them.

“You’ve been very moody,” Mother said. “You just aren’t yourself anymore. You don’t smile or joke with your sister…”

“I’m just tired,” I tried. But I knew it was weak.

“And I don’t think Dudley has your best interests in mind,” she continued. “He’s a sweet old man but his bottom line is his studio.”

“That’s not true,” I said, though in my heart I knew she was right.

“What matters to me is that you are becoming someone I don’t recognize.” The anger was creeping back into her voice. But it was tearful anger. It was the shaking voice I remembered from the morning. I hated her like this, so tightly wound she would unravel and fly in all directions if she were pushed any further. But I heard myself trying anyway.

“You can’t stop me from dancing!” I tried not to cry or appear weak.

“We would never stop you from dancing,” said my father, ever in control, “but we don’t want any more of these trips to Los Angeles. We want you to find another studio if you really want to dance….”

“But Dad…” I started. He cut me off, holding up his hand for me to let him finish,

“Or else we want you to take a break. Concentrate on school.

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