Socrates learned to dance when he was seventy because he felt that an essential part of himself had been neglected. ~Source Unknown
Four's presence on the stage was undeniable. He couldn't seem to blend in with the rest of the dancers. Even as Christina broke out into a solo, my attention was attracted to Four as he and the other dancers walked around the stage.
In between dances, Peter leaned forwards and whispered "I thought and Four were buddy-buddy. How can you sit here like this while Four makes a fool of himself on stage?"
The kiss flashed across my mind.
"Quite easily," I responded. "Anyways, aren't the two of you not friends? Why do you care how he looks?"
Peter looked offended. "As a fellow dancer, even I have the decency to not wish a poor performance on someone."
Before I could ask him what decency he was talking about, the announcer declared that it was time for the guest performance of the evening. I pulled out my program and scanned the pages as I tried to figure out who it was.
When I flipped to the program's final page, a full-sized picture of Four in tights and a leotard stared back at me.
The guy next to me, who was looking at the same page, whistled.
Curious, I ignored Peter's attempts to talk to me as the lights turned on for the next dance. Four walked on stage wearing the same tights and leotard he wore in the picture. His hair and makeup hadn't changed either.
Something was different about him, though.
As the music started, I concentrated on figuring out what it was. It was hard to do because I couldn't concentrate. Four's dance, which turned out to be a ballet solo from one of Balanchine's* works, was mesmerizing. When I tried to scrutinize a certain part of him, I would get lost in the movement. It was almost like I was dancing with him. Every turn sequence he preformed made me dizzy and every jump sequence made me feel like I was flying. I was reminded of when we danced together.
The dance began to reach its climax, and my phone began to beep.
The people next to me glared as I ignored the call. It took a few moments for them to settle down again and forget about me. I turned my phone on to vibrate.
Barely two minutes later, my phone vibrated from a text message. Only a few people turned to glare at me. I didn't dare check the phone.
The vibrating continued as text after text flooded my phone. I turned my phone to silent, but could still see the bright light flashing continuously in my pocket.
My mind was racing. I couldn't decide if the flood of messages meant something important had happened or one of my friends decided to be an asshole and spam my phone.
The curiosity was killing me. Using my hand to cover the light of my phone, I checked who was sending all the messages.
Caleb.
I opened a text.
Answer your phone!
I opened another.
Stop what you are doing and get to the hospital!
Panic gripped my heart. I scrolled frantically to the first text message he sent.
Dad's condition has worsened.
No longer giving a damn about theater etiquette, I stood up and pushed my way through the row of people. I muttered excuse me to not sound like too much of an ass.
When I finally made it to the aisle, the audience started clapping. I turned to see Four bowing on stage. His dance had finished. I swear we locked eyes before I turned and scurried out of the theater, but that had to be impossible. Stage lights barely let you see the first few rows of the audience let alone so far back.
But I couldn't ignore the hurt his eyes portrayed when he saw that I was leaving.
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I entered the hospital in a flurry. The secretary said I couldn't see my dad, he was in surgery right now, so I asked to see my mom. I had to see someone.
"Mom," I said as I burst into her room. "Did you hear what's happening to dad?"
She smiled at me from her bed. Since the first time I had seen her, she looked a lot better, but still not healthy. Her skin was hanging too loosely over her bones and her eyes were very tired.
"I did. Don't worry," mom smiled. Her voice was softer than normal, but strong. "I'm glad you came to see me, though it took an emergency to get you to come."
I shrugged sheepishly. "I'm sorry mom. I came once when you were sleeping, but I wasn't sure when you'd wake up and I've been… busy. Someone offered me a temporary job here."
"You mean you don't want to continue to mooch of your brother?" Mom joked.
Rolling my eyes, I replied "One day he'll just say he's sick of having such a stupid sister."
Before mom could reply, a doctor entered the room.
"Is Mrs. Natalie Prior, here?" He asked. When my mom said yes, he continued "I'm sorry."
* Balanchine is a famous ballet choreographer (Full name: George Balanchine). He's known for infusing modern concepts with older ideas of classical ballet. He died in 1983, but his work remains famous and is still preformed today. There is a special Balanchine Trust that is dedicated to preserving his works. Balanchine's works are technically copyrighted, and, to learn a piece made by him, you must use a person from the Balanchine Trust to teach the dance.
Thanks to there will always be fear, .Shadowhunter, AriellaHart, , laurel-madness, Bumbbleberries, shauna 12 (Guest), Truly hipster (Guest), Ydissbooksogood, Rubiksmaniac, AwesomeTooAwesome, fourtris4, and Goalphabeticalorder for reviewing the last chapter.