Chapter 2 - The Girl Who Left Halcyon
The next time I saw Alex Vale, he was standing beside the staff entrance
with two cups of coffee.
I almost turned around.
“Before you say no,” he said, “one is for Luis.”
“Then give it to Luis.”
“I already did.”
He held out the second cup.
I didn’t take it.
“I don’t need coffee from you.”
“Fair.”
He set it on the counter.
“I owe you a proper apology.”
“You already apologized.”
“I apologized for the joke. I didn’t apologize for making you the
entertainment.”
I looked at him. He seemed less polished without the ballroom around
him. His bow tie had loosened, and a faint crease crossed his forehead.
“Why did you do it?” I asked.
He glanced down.
“Celeste said you were watching her. She thought you were trying to get
her attention.”
“I was carrying champagne.”
“I know that now.”
“You could have asked.”
“I could have.”
“You could have not said it at all.”
“Yes.”
I waited, but he didn’t offer an excuse.
That made him harder to dismiss.
“Do you always let Celeste decide what you think?” I asked.
His expression tightened. “No.”
“Tonight you did.”
He accepted that without argument.
“I’ve known her for a year,” he said. “She told me about Halcyon. She
said you left before the final and that she had to step in.”
“That’s one version.”
“Is it wrong?”
I looked through the narrow window. Celeste was posing for photographs
beside the foundation banner. Her smile was perfect.
“She didn’t step in. She took my place after I was already gone.”
“Why?”
“Because she wanted the part I had.”
Alex studied me. “And you let her have it?”
“My mother was dying.”
The words came out more sharply than I intended.
He lowered his eyes.
“I was eighteen when I joined Halcyon,” I continued. “My mother worked
two jobs so I could train. She sat through every competition, even when
the chemotherapy made her sick. When the doctors said there was nothing
more they could do, I stopped dancing. I went home.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. She was my mother. I wanted to be there.”
“Your father?”
“He tried to keep the academy paperwork organized. I didn’t care about
it. I didn’t care about competitions or the press or the contract. I
cared about whether she could sleep without pain.”
Alex was quiet.
“Celeste knew that,” I continued. “She knew I wasn’t coming back. She
knew the final routine was mine. She danced it anyway.”
“Did you choreograph it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you challenge her?”
“Because my mother died three weeks before the final. Because I had no
money for lawyers. Because the academy told me the choreography belonged
to the program. Because I couldn’t bear to hear people discuss my mother
as if she were an excuse.”
Alex looked genuinely troubled.
“That’s not how Celeste described it.”
“I’m sure.”
A voice called his name from the ballroom.
He ignored it.
“Would you be willing to tell me the whole story?”
“No.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
I moved the coffee cup away from the counter’s edge so nobody would
knock it over.
“Why are you funding this foundation?” I asked.
“My mother started it. She wanted young dancers who couldn’t afford
training to have a chance.”
“Did she dance?”
“Professionally, before I was born. She retired after an injury. She
built the first Vale scholarship program from a room above a community
center.”
I looked at him with new interest.
“What’s her name?”
“Margaret Vale.”
I knew the name. Everyone in the dance world did. Margaret Vale had been
a respected performer before she became a patron. She had funded
Halcyon’s youth program for years.
“She visited our studio once,” I said.
Alex’s face softened. “She loved Halcyon.”
“She watched our rehearsal. She told me my turns were too careful.”
He smiled faintly. “That sounds like her.”
“She told me I danced like someone asking permission.”
His smile grew. “She said the same thing about me when I was twelve.”
For the first time, I almost smiled back.
Then the ballroom doors opened and Celeste stepped into the corridor.
“Alex, there you are.”
Her eyes moved to the coffee cup, then to me.
“Are we having a private meeting?”
“No,” Alex said.
Celeste’s smile remained fixed. “Good. The photographer wants us for the
foundation portrait.”
She reached for his arm. He didn’t move.
“Celeste,” he said, “you told me Elena left Halcyon before the final
because she couldn’t handle the pressure.”
Celeste glanced at me. “I said she withdrew.”
“You said she abandoned the team.”
“That’s what happened.”
I met her gaze.
“My mother was dying.”
Celeste’s expression softened into something that might have looked like
sympathy to anyone who didn’t know her.
“I know. I was there.”
“No,” I said. “You were at rehearsal.”
The silence between us was brief but sharp.
Alex looked from one woman to the other.
Celeste touched his sleeve. “Darling, we should go.”
He followed her, but he looked back once.
I didn’t.
When my shift ended, I changed out of my uniform and checked my phone.
My father had sent another message.
I found the old program, too. Your name is still printed inside.
I looked at the screen for a long time.
May you like
Then I replied.
I’ll come by tomorrow.
