zetareys‌:

Zeta recognized the girl, her voice was so distinctly familiar. She couldn’t quite place where they’d met, and her only thought was to mention the institutions. She worried that she knew them from somewhere else and would be exposing herself a little, so she kept it more simple. “Glendale?” The name would strike someone who knew it more than a neighborhood.

Maddie raised her eyebrows at her question. “Oh, shit-- that’s it.” She was shocked to recognize another person from the hospital, but maybe it made sense for so many of the former patients to find homes relatively nearby. “Maddie. Sorry, I’m totally drawing a blank on your name. Something Italian or Greek?” She hoped the other girl’s memory of her was equally distant, so she didn’t seem bitchy. And because she was even more awkward back then.

Maddie was slumped in a chair at a computer, watching library copies of old recordings of The Nutcracker, since Netflix had decided to remove the 90s NYCB version with Macaulay Culkin. It was now really Nutcracker season, and she needed a dose of nostalgia. The screen was dark enough to see her reflection, though, and she noticed the girl behind her had turned around and was apparently trying to talk to her. She quickly paused the video and spun her chair to see her. “Um-- yeah, I should, hold on,” She pulled her backpack up onto her lap and dug through the notebooks and dance clothes she’d shoved in while leaving her last class to find a pencil. She handed it over with a small smile, honestly resigning herself to the very real possibility it would never be returned. She paused, though, as she made eye contact again. “--Wait, I know you.”

Zeta was sitting in a public library, one closer to her apartment than to her school in Manhattan. She was studying for a late midterm, her notebook in front of her with the material. She took out a sheet of paper and began copying her notes, trying to ingrain them in her memory, when her pencil snapped. She looked around for a sharpener, before turning to someone nearby. “Hey,” she spoke quietly. “Do you have a pencil sharpener or a pencil?”

Léonore Baulac photo © David Herrero 

( @ mattxiv on instagram. )

Janie Taylor and Sébastien Marcovici in L’après-midi d’un faune (NYCB)

Sara Mearns in Walpurgisnacht Ballet (NYCB)

aubrey--harkin‌:

Aubrey saw the look on Maddie’s face but she pretended not to. Secretly, she was grateful that they hadn’t interacted a lot at Glendale because that was truly when she had been at her worst. Still, it was hard to pretend that her thoughts weren’t racing at all times of the day, especially when she sat down to eat. She was sure that the blonde had her suspicions but that topic of conversation hadn’t come up yet. Maddie’s suggestion was a great one and this way, the food wouldn’t go to waste and they’d be helping someone. She shook her head and said “No, I don’t think its shitty at all. I mean, they’re just gonna’ throw this away if we don’t take it so we might as well. That’s a really good idea.”

Maddie truthfully had no idea how to approach disordered eating, if this was that. She’d done a few abnormal things herself before show weeks or auditions, trying to fit a certain expectation or squeeze into a costume with minimal pain, but she’d never disliked her body if she wasn’t in a nude leotard, or something else universally unflattering. And she knew it wasn’t even about body type, body image, that was just how the larger issues presented. But even at her lowest point, her brain had never gone there. No one had ever made that a target, maybe. Obviously, it was rude to comment on or ask about people’s behaviors regarding food-- maybe it would just have to wait-- even if her hypotheses were correct and this was enabling her in some way. “Hmm, okay. I don’t know. I guess it’s still a good deed. Sometimes I overthink stuff. Especially about being a good person. I feel like it shouldn’t be hard to be good, but-- people over-complicate shit.”

Did you have a best friend growing up? What was their name? Are you still in touch?

Yep. Her name was– is– Julia. Jules. She was– my first girlfriend, actually. We ended up together after she figured out I was gay. We kinda– lost contact after being tortured for crimes against heteronormativity and my– suicide attempt. A part of me misses her, I guess, but– I just wish she’d had the courage to resist them. Of course, I say that now, I’m the coward who tried to kill myself, but– she was too– obedient. Went back to her old life of pretending and lying to herself. I just hope she isn’t completely miserable.

Madeleine tried not to make a face when Aubrey offered her the omelet, but it was-- questionable. She’d never asked too much about why she’d been in Glendale, why she’d taken so much time off from dancing, or anything else that would come off judgmental. She wasn’t ready to spill about conversion therapy, so she wasn’t going to push anything. Besides, as far as she could tell, Aubrey was-- a friend-- maybe they’d never need to share some of that stuff. It was difficult territory to navigate. “Oh, no-- I can’t, they gave me, like, five pieces of French toast. But thanks. Is it shitty to give leftovers to people asking for food or money? Someone outside might need it. Or we could find someone who’s homeless with a dog-- buy food for the person, give them the omelet for the dog. I don’t know.”

Aubrey had only made it through half of her leftover omelet before the stomach pains began and the feeling of being overwhelmingly full started to take over. “Uh, hey, do you want this? I’m full and I can’t eat anymore. It’s super good, though,” she said, pushing the food towards the person sitting across from her. These past few weeks had been extra difficult for her and she was having a hard time deciding on whether or not she really wanted to get better. She had seriously cut down on her daily intake and because of that, her stomach now seemed to be very easily upset by any amount of food, big or small. Though she knew she really needed to go back to therapy, she was worried that she’d regret the decision as soon as she stepped in the door. “Seriously, try it. It’s good.”

aubrey--harkin‌:

She laughed at Maddie’s Drag Race reference and said “Yeah, I get that. Teachers can be way too intense sometimes.” She nodded, listening to Maddie’s plans. Sure, she said she was wandering but she seemed to have at least somewhat of a plan which was more than Aubrey had. Her eyes got a little wide when she mentioned Tisch. “Shit, really? That would be…incredible if you could… I would absolutely love , thank you so much…”

“For sure. Our director in Utah was a piece of work. I swear her husband was gay and she punished all of us for her shitty marriage and failed career-- but it was still fun, ‘cause we all hated her together,” Maddie grinned. “There are always good ones, too,” she added quickly. “If you’re actually interested in teaching. It’s just-- not your only choice.” She knew dancing was ridiculously competitive and trying to be someone was a gamble, but after everything that’d happened in the last few years, she figured it couldn’t hurt to roll the dice. “Oh, for sure. No problem. The ballet classes are actually pretty chill once exams and performances die down. And modern is always fun.”

10th August 1965: New York City Ballet at the Habima Theatre in Tel Aviv.

Sara Mearns taking a mens class at the School of American Ballet

Photo by ?

What do you think of Aubrey?

She’s sweet. I’d like to get to know her better, maybe keep hanging out with her in the studio. It’s nice to have a dancer friend who isn’t trying to get the same roles as me and get higher grades and shit. ( She’s also... kinda cute. )

@aubrey--harkin

aubrey--harkin‌:

“Oh, I always have to focus on that… I mean, maybe I focus on it a bit too much but I really can’t help it. I guess you could say I’m very particular,” she chuckled. She laughed and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I suppose it’s only bitter teachers that I’ve ever heard talk about that.” She smiled and said “Oh, I’m sure you’ll get into it, you should do it! That sounds like it’d be a lot of fun.”

“Yeah, same. Teachers are always telling me I look pissed off or too intense but it’s just ‘cause I’m really trying not to mess up-- ‘and don’t fuck it up’-- y’know?” Maddie pointed at her with a slight raise of her eyebrows. “See? You have to consider your sources. Those sad bitches never got what they wanted, so they’re trying to put their misery on us.” She poked her straw around, stirring the caramel that settled at the bottom. “Yeah, maybe. I feel like I should try to-- assert myself. If I could end up performing even for a few years, that’d be-- cool. Maybe try my psychology thing after. I don’t know, I’m just-- wandering, kind of.” She didn’t want to add any stress to Aubrey’s professional dilemma, but-- maybe she needed some kind of push: she seemed to want to find a place in the dance world so badly, but wasn’t pointing to any specific goals. “Do you have anything planned? Maybe you should come take a class at Tisch, I could probably get you in at the end of the semester if you want. People will start skipping once the showcases are over. I mean-- no pressure. But you might like it.”

aubrey--harkin‌:

“Yikes on bikes. You’re right, that would be really bad. But she’s so good, she’d probably never make that kind of mistake anyways,” she smiled. When Maddie started to talk about blending dance and psychology, it peaked her interest. Somehow, she’d never thought about doing that. It could be something that was specifically or the LGBTQ+ community or maybe she could even help people who were sick in the way she was. “Wow… I never even thought about that. Like, I knew that dance therapy was a thing but you really only ever hear people talk about going professional or teaching, you know? But that’s actually a great idea, I’ll have to look into it. So are you working on anything right now?”

“Yeah, doubtful. If I spent that much time doing shit with flexed feet and bent knees and-- literally everything bad-- my actual technique would--” Maddie made a whistling noise and pointed toward one of the windows. “I don’t think I’ll ever be one of those people that doesn’t have to focus on making it look right, at least a little.” Maybe that was because she’d been afraid of being wrong or making someone mad since she was little, and if she’d just trust herself she’d be fine-- but that was a question for another time. “Right? There’s all kinds of things you can make out of something you love. It’s just people who are bitter they never got into NYCB that make us all think we have to teach if it doesn’t all go as planned.” She nodded slightly as she ducked her head to take a sip from the coffee in front of her, speaking when she came back up. “We have a choreographers’ concert in May, so we’re really getting into those rehearsals. And I’m trying to decide if I’m brave enough to try to get into the ABT collegiate summer program through one of my professors.”