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Jaidev
I TRY TO REASSURE TARYN as we sit at the hospital, even though for some inexplicable reason, I want to make a joke. Something about how we’ve spent too long in hospitals recently, between the two of us. Well, three if you count Teddy. He was barely breathing when we found him, and for a moment, I’d really thought he was dead.
I’d grabbed hold of Taryn, to try and stop her running to him, but she’d gotten free of me. Her screams were awful.
The ambulance arrived quickly, though.
“He’ll be okay,” I tell her.
“It’s my fault,” she says.
“No,” I say, “you didn’t make him dance.”
But she looks at me with big, tear-filled eyes. “I knew. I... I saw him practicing. I should’ve told someone. I mean, I told him to stop, but I should’ve told someone. I was just only thinking about what Xavier had done, when you guys got to me, and I should’ve remembered what I’d seen about Teddy. I... I could’ve stopped all this.”
“No, you didn’t make him dance,” I say. “This isn’t your fault.”
“It is. He’s my friend. I know we fell out, but I should’ve still been there for him.”
“You can’t be there for someone who doesn’t want to be helped in that moment,” I think of Bastien, about what it was like every time I tried to help him. He only really started to get slightly clean any time he was put into rehab—but after coming out, he’d be back on the drugs. He wasn’t ready for our help then. And a person has to want to be helped for it to work properly.
I wonder how soon that will be the case for Bastien. If it will be soon. Maybe Avril will ship him off again, so she can tell herself he is getting better. Even though it’s not worked before. Recovery isn’t easy. Nothing is.
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WE’RE TOLD TEDDY IS alive but in a critical condition. A man who Taryn tells me is Teddy’s father arrives with red-rimmed eyes and a blotchy face. He’s led off by a doctor to see Teddy. Close relatives only. Taryn isn’t allowed.
One of the ballet teachers gives us a lift back to Roseheart. It’s strange walking back, knowing we’re in the company now. I want to celebrate, but I can’t. Taryn looks deflated, like the life’s been let out of her and she’s just a flimsy outline now.
Slight annoyance rises in me. She should be celebrating, yet she’s not. Because of him. I wasn’t even there the first time Teddy’s condition messed up Taryn’s admittance to the company. But he’s doing it again.
I know it’s not his fault, him having this. I shouldn’t be angry. But he knew what he was doing. He chose to push himself, to dance.
“See you later then,” Taryn says. “I’m just going to go back to my room. Sibs said she’s there.”
It feels weird, watching Taryn go on her own. I am so used to thinking she needs someone with her at all times. But that’s over now.
When I get back to my room, there’s a letter pushed under the door. My name is written on it in an elegant hand. I open it.
Jaidev,
I saw you dancing today, and you were great. I always knew you would be.
I want you to know that I do not hold any grudges against you, nor harbor any bad feeling for what happened to my daughter. I’ve been meaning to write this to you for a long, long time, but the longer I left it, the harder it became.
I know you loved my daughter greatly. And we all know she died doing what she loved, with someone she loved. Camille cared about you greatly. Anyone knew that.
We’re always told that ballet is dangerous for dancers’ bodies. But they always make it sound like any physical damage will be self-inflicted and not life-limiting or life-taking. And it was.
But she knew that, too. You all know that.
I am glad you’re dancing again.
I wish you all the best,
Gabrielle Blanc.