Eva and I went to a small pub a few streets down. We shared an order of fries and got a drink to start off the conversation. Then, we got another drink and we felt like we’d known each other forever. It was easy to talk with Eva. She was nice without being too nice, she was clever and witty. If I had known there were great people like her in the world, I wouldn’t have spent so much time avoiding everyone.

“Did you ever want to become a concert pianist?”

Eva was starting to slur, which didn’t sound bad at all coming from her. I finished my second drink, hoping it might give me some inspiration. “Yeah, but it didn’t work out.”

“You shouldn’t give up. You’re still young.”

I let out an inebriated, yet meaningful pfft. “Sometimes, I feel very old.”

Eva smiled mischievously. “I know the feeling. It’s a shame though. You shouldn’t give up on your dream.”

I repressed a groan of frustration. Just when I managed to stop thinking about Tara, Eva reminded me of her. I couldn’t blame Tara for being so hellbent on fulfilling her dream. You know, being a principal dancer is the dream of many little kids.

I let my head drop on my folded arms. “I don’t have what it takes.”

“I’m sure you do.” Eva had that tone of voice you use sometimes with little kids when they learn to tie their shoelaces. I should hang around people like her more often. No drama, no brattiness, just some wholesome chat over wholesome drinks.

“I like your eyes. They’re different colors,” she remarked more seriously.

“You noticed?”

It was subtle. My right eye was blue and my left one was gray.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

I giggled. This was a nice thing to say. I deserved people being nice to me every once in a while. “Thanks, you’re pretty hot too.” It’s always a good thing to return compliments in these situations.

“But doesn’t it remind you of what you’ve lost?”

I felt like I was choking all of a sudden. The chatter of people around us grew dim. Why would Eva say such a thing? My glass almost toppled over on the table as I rested my head in my hands.

Eva reached across the table and placed her hand on my arm. “Christine! Are you alright?”

I took a few deep breaths and made an attempt at sounding cheerful, and if you consider the sound of a boa choking on a gazelle cheerful, I guess you could say I was successful. “What did you just say?”

“I asked if you’re alright.”

“No, before that.”

Eva seemed concerned. “I said that I like your eyes.”

“Didn’t you say anything else?” Did Eva know I was a freelancer? It wasn’t a big deal if she did; it just kind of changed my interpretation of what all this was about.

She pressed her lips together. “You’re looking pale. I guess it’s time to go.”

She waved at the waitress as she passed beside us and asked for the bill. “It’s on me,” she said.

“Wait, no! Let’s split.”

“It’s fine.”

I watched her take out her credit card from her wallet. So much for the wholesome chat.

***

We were more silent going back home than when we left. I tried to shake off the unpleasant feeling that lingered, but there was no use. I guess I had imagined Eva’s comment, or it was possible that I had caught part of someone else’s conversation. The pub was pretty busy for a weekday after all.

We stopped in front of my door. I hoped I hadn’t made Eva uncomfortable. What if she avoided me from now on? “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay. Are you sure you’ll be fine?”

I nodded and made an effort to smile. “Next time, it’s on me.”

“Sounds good. Have a good night, then.”

She held out her hand toward me and I thought she would move in for a hug, but she simply patted my shoulder. I followed her with my gaze as she walked to her own door, and then I went inside my apartment.

***

The next day, I returned to the MBT to look for Tara. I was hoping I could catch her after her morning class.

I entered by the artists’ entrance, like the first time. There was a lady in the lobby chatting with some other woman. Neither of them paid me any attention.

The big studio on the top floor had a bunch of people rehearsing, but Tara wasn’t among them. I must have missed the class. I went through the corridors, searching for her. I passed by a few dancers on my way. They turned around and whispered. They must have wondered who the hell I was and what I was doing here.

At last, my efforts were rewarded. I approached a small studio. I remained just around the doorway and peeked inside. Tara was hard at work practicing her fouettés. Despite myself, I was impressed and I had a hard time keeping my mouth from gaping. She just seemed to keep turning on and on as though it was the easiest thing in the world. If she was this good, why had she almost fallen the previous day just from looking at me?

When she stopped, I at last dared step inside the studio. She glared at me from the center. She wasn’t even dizzy.

I glared back and then looked away a bit sheepishly. “Did you do 32?” I asked.

According to the MBT’s website, Swan Lake was one of the productions on which the company was currently working, and you may be familiar with the famous 32 fouettés the Black Swan does at the ball to impress the prince.

Tara regained her breath and simply let out, “I didn’t do 32. I did 64.”

I’m afraid I goggled at that point. “Wow, that’s impressive.”

“Not really.”

Well, maybe it wasn’t. I guess it depends on the person. That wasn’t the point though. The point was that the image of spoiled brat I had built in my mind suddenly crumbled in front of my eyes. She was actually talented and hardworking.

“You came back to laugh at me again?”

“No, I want to talk with you.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

There’s such a thing called reverse psychology. As long as I shooed her away, Tara insisted to talk to me. Now that I at last deigned consider discussing with her, she decided to make it difficult.

I better not admit that I had thrown out her phone number.

She sat down to take off her pointe shoes. “You know the situation. I want to become a principal dancer, but no one wants to give me a chance. I need help because even though I’m working hard, I’m not progressing.”

“I understand. Come to my place after work and I’ll see what I can do for you.”