Walking over to the stereo, she says, "Not at all. I just got here. Did you stretch at home?"
"Yes, but I need to warm my muscles up a little more." The cold temperatures make it hard to keep my muscles loose, so after my pointes are on, I slide on some leg warmers and loose long pants.
"Well then, let's do a little floor work before we begin." She flips on the music, and she joins me in the center of the room as we do a few adagio combinations.
I have never danced alone alongside Ms. Emerson. She is as focused as I am on arm placements and bodylines. We move gracefully together through the movements and repeat the combination a few more times before she asks for my music. I hand her the disc, and she gets the music set up as I take my spot on the floor in fifth position. When I hear the strings, I slowly relevè on my pointes and begin a series of chainès across the floor. I continue through my choreography, and when I get to the peak of my developè, I begin spotting my head as I go into a variation series of fouettès. I hear Ms. Emerson beating the counts by loudly clapping her hands. When I come to the end, all she says is, "Again." She clicks the remote, and the music cues back up.
I repeat my steps, and I focus in on the movements as I hear: "I need more, Candace...Hit that position, and hold!" CLAP CLAP CLAP "Piquè! Piquè! Come on! I need more from you!" I hear her stern voice through the loud music and follow her commands. When I come to the end, she repeats, "Again."
We go through this process countless times before taking a break only to continue repeating this routine over and over. I keep pounding out the moves harder and harder, but she continues to yell and demand. We do this for over an hour, and I begin to grow exhausted when she shouts, "Again!"
The music repeats, and I go through the steps over and again. "Pick it up, Candace! Hit! Hit!" She claps the counts loudly and continues, "I'm not feeling it! Come ON! Feel it! Watch that port a bras. Demi second, make it strong!" I focus on her commands, trying to keep my emotions tight, although I feel like I'm at my end. She's relentless. "Again. Last one," she says, and she starts the music again.
"This time...feel it, Candace. Really feel it. Let it out."
I nod my head and silently take my position again as the music pounds through the room. Making my way through the steps, my toes are aching, but I push through again. I can hear the frustration in Ms. Emerson when she yells over the music. "Feel it, Candace! You're dead behind the movements...Make that spotting stronger!" CLAP CLAP CLAP "Hit those fouettès...Smooth out that demi right there. I'm getting nothing! Feel, Candace!"
She shuts off the music, and I stop, standing in the center of the floor when she walks toward me.
Speaking softly, she says, "Whatever walls you have built this year, you need to break them down. I'm getting nothing from you. You feel nothing."
"Yes," I say breathlessly as I nod my head.
"We spoke about this earlier, but I'm not seeing any changes. This is a powerful piece of music. In my opinion, the best piece of all the girls, but you're wasting it. Whatever this is...fix it."
"Okay." And before I can say anything else, she turns to leave.
When the door closes behind her, I let out my pent up frustration and scream through my clenched teeth. Ripping off my pointes, I throw them hard across the room. I lie back on the floor, taking a few deep breaths and feel the tears welling up. My emotions are on edge after being so harshly berated for the past two hours. I squeeze my eyes shut and feel the tears as they roll down my temples and into my hair. I throw my arm over my head and continue to breathe in and out slowly.
Letting a few minutes pass, I grab my things and leave. I just want to go home, shower, and try not to think about this disastrous rehearsal. I slam the door open when I walk out, and I'm shocked when I see Ryan leaning up against my car. Shit! I completely forgot that he would be here. Quickly, I wipe the tears off my cheeks and try to pull myself together fast. But before I can start walking, he's standing in front of me with both hands cupping my face.
"What happened?"
"Nothing, honestly. Just a tough rehearsal." My voice comes out wobbly, and I hate that.
Ryan stares down at me with a clenched jaw. Taking his thumbs, he wipes my damp cheeks. The tender action breaks my strong façade, and I fall into his chest allowing the comfort of his arms as they wrap around me. He cradles the back of my head with his hand the same way Jase does when he hugs me, but this feels different. His hold is strong and tight, and I let myself soften into him. Aside from Jase and Mark, there is no one that I ever let touch me like this. I know it isn't much, but it's difficult for me. Being in Ryan's embrace feels safe, so I wrap my arms around his waist as we stand in the empty parking lot.
When I start to pull back from him, he asks again, "Are you sure you're okay?"
I nod my head, uncertain of how my voice might sound.
Ryan takes the bag off of my shoulder and drapes his arm around me. "Come on," he says as he starts walking me to his jeep.
I don't ask where we are going, and honestly, I'm too worn out to really care. He helps me into his car, and when he closes the door, I rest my head against the back of the seat and close my eyes. Ryan doesn't say anything; he doesn't even turn on the music as we drive. It's only a few minutes later when the car stops in front of his loft.
When we get upstairs, I sit on the couch in his living room while he gets me a bottle of water from the kitchen. He sits down next to me, and I gulp the water down quickly.