5 – Looking Back

"I finally know what I want to do... and I want to start doing it."

These words echo in my head over and over as I walk to the hospital. I am walking fast because I know I've stayed at the studio longer than I should. I couldn't help it. Being there, seeing it all come together, felt better than I could have imagined. Between sweeping the floors, setting up ballet barres around the space and showing Zach a few hip hop moves, it felt good to be doing something, instead of just sitting around waiting. It was just what I needed to keep my mind off everything that was going on. But in the end, I knew I couldn't put off telling him any longer.

As it turns out, telling Zach hadn't been as hard as I thought. He was angry at first, but once he realized how passionate I was about teaching, how much I truly appreciated everything he had done for me – standing up for me when no one else would, spending all his free time helping me make up the classes I had missed, taking me under his wing and treating me like his family – and how I wanted to be that person for someone someday, he resigned himself to the fact that nothing he could say or do would be able to change my mind.

I could tell he was disappointed, not because he thought he had wasted his time, but because he truly believed that I could be a great dancer. It was one of the main reasons why I knew I wanted to be a teacher, to be like him. Caring. Strong. Good. Things I never believed myself to be. I was the screw-up, the disappointment, insecure and afraid to let people in. Afraid of being rejected like my dad had rejected me. Afraid of letting people down when they realized I wasn't exactly who they wanted me to be. Seriously unperfect.

But as much as I rebelled during my time at the academy, Zach was right. I always came back. Part of it was because I had nowhere else to go. Part of it was because of Tara. And part of it was because of him. He supported me, challenged me, made me feel like I could achieve anything. Be anything. He was on my side, rooting for me, filling a role that had been vacant for so long. He knew what I was going through and was there to help me overcome any obstacles I had to face. A father-figure of sorts. He never gave up on me and kept fighting for me even when he probably shouldn't have.

Knowing I have his support, I can't help feeling relieved. One down, one to go. As hard as I thought telling Zach was going to be, I know telling Tara will be much harder. Getting a contract is all she ever wanted. It is her dream. And it's a great dream! But not for me. Part of me feels like I am letting her down, but the other part knows I won't be happy in the company. For her, dancing in the back row of the corps is better than not dancing at all. I barely survived the academy, and I can't imagine the company being any easier. No, for me, teaching in Sammy's studio is the better choice.

Maybe I won't tell her today... or for a while. She is fragile right now and who can blame her? She has fallen so far in such a short period of time. Going from being on top to possibly not even being on Rebecca's radar at all anymore. I certainly wouldn't be able to handle that, but Tara is much stronger than me. Much more hopeful. Much more determined. She has already been through so much since coming to the academy and she is still standing – well, maybe not literally – but she hasn't let all the bad stuff get to her. After everything that happened last year... after Sammy died, she didn't let it change her. Instead of falling off the deep end like I had, she used her pain to become a better dancer, a better person. Like she realized how short life really was and made a promise, to herself and to Sammy, that she wasn't going to waste it.

As I get into the elevator and push the button, I try to organize the thoughts in my head, to plan what I will say. This is the first time I'm going to see Tara since she fell. I want to say the right thing and not sound like an idiot stumbling over my words. What will I say? Should I be funny or serious? Should I sit in a chair or on the bed? Should I hold her hand? I want to hold her hand, to reassure her that she is not alone, to reassure myself that she is going to be okay. Maybe I will wait for her to say something and go from there. My mind races as I try to imagine different scenarios, all the possible ways the conversation can go.

All too soon, the doors open and my mind goes blank. I can feel my heart beating faster and faster, pounding loudly in my ears, sweat gathering on my forehead. This is it. In a few moments, I will see her, and the anticipation makes my stomach churn. I am a wreck. Pull yourself together! I tell myself. It's just Tara! But even as I think it, I know it's not true. She's never really been "Just Tara." Even before we started dating. Even before we became friends. I reach her door, and I look through the window. She is sleeping and I can't help feeling a little relieved. I decide to watch her from the hall, at least for a little while longer. She looks so peaceful and I don't want to wake her. She deserves to sleep. Instead, I let my mind wander to a day that seems so long ago – the first time I saw her…

It was the first day of auditions. I had forgotten something in my bag and had gone back to the locker room to get it. Taking my time, I turned the corner and there she was. She had her back to me, and she was kneeling over her bag in only her bra and skirt, her shirt crumpled on the floor, completely unaware of my presence.

What was she doing? Didn't she realize this was the boys' room? I could feel a smirk spreading across my face, and stayed quiet for the time being.

As I circled around behind the cubbies, I glanced over at her as she frantically rummaged through her bag. She was thin, but not too thin. She was fit, strong, and her reddish hair looked soft, and I wondered what it would feel like to touch it. I shook my head, trying to ignore that thought. I couldn't go there. Not with her. She wasn't my type. She was exactly the opposite. Too innocent. I could tell just by looking at her. Her clothes looked hand-made and the lack of make-up on her face made her seem younger than she probably was. The girls I usually hung out with always wore make-up, too much in some cases. But she didn't need make-up. She was pretty without it. In her case, less was more. For some reason I couldn't explain, I was intrigued and I wanted to know more about her.

Hastily, she grabbed her leotard and I decided it was time to make my presence known.

"Don't let me stop you," I said, my words dripping with sarcasm. She spun around quickly, her leotard falling to the floor, and when she saw me, her arms shot up across her chest, trying to cover herself.

"I have pepper spray in my bag and I'm not afraid to use it!" She shot back as she ran to duck behind a wall.

I smirked and replied, "Well I was just standing here minding my own business-"

"In the girls' dressing room?" She really didn't know she was in the wrong place.

"I'm pretty sure those are urinals in there... unless you can go standing up." Still holding her arms over her chest, she walked over and looked where I was pointing. I could see the realization hit her as her shoulders slumped and she knew she wasn't where she was supposed to be.

"You might need this," I joked as I picked up her shirt.

"Can you turn around please?" Her voice trembled a little, and I could tell I was making her nervous. I decided to tease her a little more.

"So is it an attention thing?"

"What?"

"You know, stripping in front of strangers? Cuz that's cool, I mean, I'm sure they have support groups-"

She cut me off again, "If you're looking, I swear I'll hurt you!" I had to try not to laugh at her empty threat. Then Ethan had come in and interrupted our little moment. She stuttered a response, shot me a dirty look and then raced out to chase after him. It all happened so fast. Before I could call out to her or say I was sorry, she was gone, leaving me with butterflies in my stomach, wondering when I would see her again…

Watching her now through the glass, I can't help but smile at the memory. It's one of my favorites of us and I wonder if Tara remembers it. If only we had known then what we know now. That we would become friends, fall in love, spend the better part of two years barely speaking to each other. Would we have done anything differently? Or would we have decided not to go through with it at all? To just be friends? I feel a familiar pull deep in my gut that I always feel when I'm around her and I know there are things I would have done differently, but that I wouldn't have been able to just be her friend. Even after I broke up with her, it was still there. I still loved her, still wanted to be with her, but I was so angry that I pushed those feelings aside and callously chose her best friend instead, not caring about how it would make Tara feel.

Kat was cool and laid back. Her relaxed attitude calmed me and made me feel like I belonged. She didn't expect anything of me. There was no pressure. We would hang out and laugh a lot and it was easy. Don't get me wrong, we did plenty of other stuff too. There was chemistry because we were so much alike. We got each other and didn't have to worry about saying or doing the wrong thing. There was no awkwardness between us.

But in the end it wasn't enough. Eventually Kat started wanting more. More than just having fun and watching DVDs. More than just joking around and making out. She wanted a real relationship. She wanted feelings and emotions and she started asking questions about my childhood and other sensitive areas that I thought being with her meant I could avoid. She had never been curious about my past before. She never asked questions about my dad and never tried to fix me. But suddenly she was and I didn't know how to handle it. I thought being with her meant I could just sweep all my baggage under the rug.

Talking had been Tara's thing, not Kat's. With Tara, I had wanted to tell her about my past, but I couldn't. I was too ashamed, and it just made it clearer that we were from two different worlds. I didn't want to burden her with my problems, to taint her with my dysfunctional family. But with Kat, I felt like I shouldn't have had to talk to her about it. She should have just understood. It was, after all, the reason I was with her... so we wouldn't have to deal with all the drama. It made me realize that the love I had for her wasn't the same as what I felt for Tara. An all-consuming love that made my heart beat faster, made my palms sweat, made it seem like there was no one else, just me and her. Kat saw it too, that I was still in love with Tara, and despite all my false protests, she ended it. She did what I didn't have the strength to do.

When Kat broke up with me, I finally knew how selfish I had been. I had used her as a buffer, so I could avoid dealing with all the problems in my life, and I had ruined everything with Tara over something as silly as her looking up my dad on the internet. Instead of talking to her about how I felt, trusting her, I walked away. After telling her I loved her, promising her nothing would come between us, I had treated her as though she wasn't important and didn't matter at all. I blamed her for so much when all she was trying to do was help me. I just left her, thinking I'd be fine without her. But I wasn't.

Breaking up with Tara had killed me, but I was too proud to admit it. And when Saskia broke her back, it was as if the floor had fallen out from under me. The fact that she hadn't told me about it, that she had lied and said it was just a strain, made me truly understand how much I had hurt her, how much pain I had caused her. She should have been able to come to me, to tell me what that horrible woman had done to her. All I wanted to do was comfort her, to say I was sorry, to take it all back and start over. But it was too late. The way she had looked at me, the way she had talked to me, proved that it was over. She had lost faith in me, and there was no way she could confide in me now.

Instead, she told Ben. He was there for her, unlike me, and even though they were only friends at the time, he listened and gave her what she needed. A shoulder to cry on. Someone she could talk to about anything. It used to be me. She used to tell me everything, but not anymore, and it was all my fault. She was better off without me.

The problem was, I wasn't better off without her. I didn't realize how much I would miss her – her sweetness, her kindness, her goodness, her ability to see the best in everyone, especially me. She wasn't like the others, who seemed more than happy to leave me to my internal angst. She was different, special. Somehow more in tune with the world and those around her. It was a subtle gift that often went unnoticed because she didn't flaunt it or use it for her own personal gain, which often lead to her being taken for granted. I definitely had done that. I didn't deserve her and she deserved way better than me. She deserved to be happy.

For a while, it seemed she was. She had Ben and everything was all sorted out. Even though it hurt to see them together, I knew Ben was the better option for her. He was kind like she was, and thoughtful and he really cared about her. His loyalty and genuine desire to help her made him good for her. And eventually, they became more than just friends. Another blow to my ego. To think that I had had everything and I just threw it away, without giving it a second thought. Watching them kiss at the ice rink shattered any hope I had of being with her again. It made me feel truly alone, more so than I had ever felt. But if she was happy, then it was worth it. She had certainly suffered because of me, so now I guessed it was my turn.

That was why I chose not to go back at the beginning of third year. I knew that if I went back, Tara would be waiting, and I wouldn't be able to stay away. Out of all my friends, she had been the most persistent, texting and calling me, leaving me voicemails in her signature upbeat voice, maybe hoping that eventually, I would either answer or call her back. But I couldn't. If I did, if I talked to her, she would have known how miserable I was. How much I missed everyone. How much I wanted to come back and I didn't want her to know how far I'd fallen.

So I stayed with Raf, blowing off school and hanging with a group of kids who were the exact opposite of my friends from the academy, hoping it would satisfy my desperate need to belong. But it didn't work. It wasn't the same. They couldn't fill that void and it took Tara's visit to make me see that. Seeing her in Raf's garage brought back everything I had been trying to forget all summer: losing Sammy, feeling guilty for not being able to save him, the pain of walking away from Tara after the Prix when all I wanted was to be with her. Which is why, in the end, I decided to go back. As much as I tried to deny it, I needed her, and part of me hoped she still needed me too…

Suddenly, I am brought back to reality by a voice I know all too well. "That door's not going to open itself, you know!" I turn my head to see Kat walking towards me, a cup of coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. She has changed her clothes from the night before but I can tell that she hasn't slept much. She is smiling but I can hear the annoyance in her voice.

I put on my best casual smile and ask, "Hey Kat, how's she doing?"

I try to stay calm, hoping she won't see how worried I am that Tara's surgery didn't go well.

"She's fine," she says curtly. "Where have you been Christian? Didn't your interview end hours ago? Everyone else has come and gone, and you're just getting here now? I thought you would have been the first to visit her, and instead you're the last. She's been waiting for you."

The hurt in her voice is palpable. There are tears in her eyes, and I know that Kat had been waiting for me too. To test me. To see if I am worthy of her best friend's attention. I can't blame her. After everything I have put them through the last couple of years, it is a miracle they are still talking to me.

"I'm sorry Kat. I didn't mean to make her wait. I went to see Zach. He was working in Sammy's studio and I started helping. I guess I lost track of time," I say with as much sincerity as I can. It's the truth. Being in the studio had made me feel safe and protected from the reality of what happened the night before. It felt like home, which only cemented the fact that I was making the right decision.

But I can't tell Kat about getting a contract. Or about turning it down to be a teacher. Not yet. Tara needs to know first. She must believe me, because I can see the anger leave her face. She has never been very good at staying mad at me.

She smiles, rolls her eyes and replies, "Well I guess there's no time like the present! I'll give you some privacy." And with that, she turns around and walks back down the hall.

Turning back to Tara's door, I know what I have to do. I have to tell her. I can't put it off. No matter how long I wait, it is not going to be easy. I take a deep breath in and let it out slowly. Then I reach up my hand, push open the door and walk into the room.