In the morning as she steps out of the shower, Nina sees that the rash on her shoulder flares angrily red. She bites her lip as she inspects her nails; maybe Mommy is right, maybe she needs to sleep with socks over her hands, but she can't imagine telling Lily this. It's too much a weakness, this scratching habit of hers, this nervous tic, and she rummages through the medicine cabinet in search of nail clippers.
Then it hits her: today is the day. Thomas is going to decide today if he's going to put her back into the Swan Queen role. Her rehearsals have been getting stronger, with the notable exception of the other day, and Nina knows she has to win it today or watch it slip away forever. Thomas won't give her another chance; she's seen that in his eyes, in the brooding lines of his mouth as he watches her dance.
Anxiety sweeps over her, and before Nina knows what she's doing she's bent over the toilet, throwing up. The familiar burn of acid in the back of her throat brings tears to her eyes. This is another thing the therapist is supposed to help her with, but more often than not it's simply nerves that send her stomach into knots. Not that she doesn't want to be perfectly thin, but Nina's never thought of it as bulimia. The roiling mass of fear in her belly has to get out somehow, and this is fastest.
"Hey, Nina, you okay?" Lily calls through the door. Her voice is sleep-rough, husky in a way that makes Nina shiver.
Ashamed again, Nina wipes her mouth and calls back. "I'm fine. Do you have any nail clippers?"
"In my room somewhere," Lily replies. Then she's gone, and Nina finishes up in a hurry. She comes out to find Lily holding a pair of toenail clippers, which will work. But as Nina goes to clip the nails of her left hand, Lily asks, "What're you doing? You have gorgeous nails, Nina."
"I can't – I shouldn't let them grow out."
"C'mon, you don't have to fit them into pointe shoes. Most people don't have perfect nails like that. You should paint them."
"But I can't. I … I just can't. If my nails are too long, I…"
Lily puts her hands on her hips and stares at Nina. "You said you were supposed to tell the truth, Nina. I was honest with you. Be honest with me."
So it comes out then, the scratching, and Lily doesn't sneer as Nina thought she would. Instead she insists on seeing the rash. Nina hesitates, and Lily tugs her sleeve. "C'mon, off with the top. Once you've seen someone in a leotard you might as well have seen them naked anyway."
That makes Nina blush as she turns her back and slips off the sweater. A vivid flash of false memory, of Lily's black lingerie and her pale skin, and then Nina's biting her lip. Stop thinking about that, you idiot, you fool. Lily makes a noncommittal sound, then says, "Stay right there." She moves away, then returns a moment later, and Nina flinches from the cool slickness being rubbed against her inflamed skin. "It's just hydrocortisone. It'll keep down the itching, and moisturize it so the skin can heal."
Mommy never thought to do this. With her it was always about forcing Nina not to scratch, cutting her nails brutally short and making her wear socks on her hands. It's almost a surprise that there exists another way to deal with it, and her shoulder does feel much better. "Thank you," she says to Lily, pulling her sweater back on.
"No problem," the younger girl drawls, and gives her a light punch on the arm. "Can't have you distracted on the big day."
For a moment pure anxiety overwhelms Nina, and Lily must see it in her eyes as she turns, because she takes hold of Nina's arms as if afraid she'll collapse. For a moment their voices blend in a worried babble, Lily trying to find out what's wrong and reassure, Nina almost crying and hating herself. Why must she be so damn weak? "I can't do this," Nina hears herself sob in defeat, and hates the sniveling tone. "I'm not ready, I can't, he'll never feature me again after the mess I made…"
Lily shushes her, gently pressing a finger against her lips, and Nina looks at her wide-eyed. "You can, Nina. You have done it, and you'll do it again. You're the best dancer in the company. You just need to have confidence, to let go."
"I can't!" Nina almost shrieks. "The only time I could was when I was out of my head! How am I supposed to be confident when the last time I danced this it almost killed me?"
"Nina, you need to relax."
"I can't relax, I can't, all I can think about is how important this is and it just makes me more tense and then I get worse…" That's too much for Nina, thinking about it, and she runs to the bathroom. Throwing up twice before breakfast is no good, her mouth tastes foul and her stomach is more painful than before.
Lily knocks on the door, and Nina's certain she means to tell her to get out. Surely Lily's patience is running out with such a pathetic, craven houseguest. She rinses her mouth and opens the door, trying not to flinch.
But Lily is standing there with a white pill in the palm of her hand and a steady look in her eye. "You need to relax, Nina, now more than ever."
Nina takes a deep breath. It could help – she remembers how she felt, how sensual, how powerful, and knows this is the cure she needs. With a small nod, she takes the pill from Lily.
