Coppélia

We finished up our jog and took a small break while looking for a spacious room in which I could practice. Eventually, we found an enormous abandoned ballroom, the furniture of which had been moved against the walls. The furniture had been covered up with large, white sheets of cloth, which were in turn covered by a thin layer of dust.

I lifted up one of the sheets to curiously peek at a long, wooden table. It looked old but incredibly fancy. Miraculously, the shiny hardwood floor looked amazingly fresh and clean. It had a gorgeous wooden inlay of a wind rose in the middle, and around the sides of the room ran an inlaid line with a braided pattern.

I could already imagine the high-end parties that once must have been given here. Oh, what I would have given to taste the delicate, high-quality food that must have adorned the tables, to experience the sounds of classical music filling the air with intrigue and, not to forget, to dance along the impeccably dressed men and women waltzing around the room in perfect harmony.

That era had unfortunately long passed and I believe that the place is now only occasionally used for wedding parties. Although the winter landscape was gorgeous here, I could not blame couples for choosing to get married at a sunnier time instead.

As I attempted a variety of jumps to test the floor, I noticed my sneakers were not going to cut it. If I wanted to practice my full choreography fully and make the most out of my practice, I would need to put on different shoes.

“Hey Joey, I need to grab my ballet shoes really quickly. Could you maybe get me a glass of water in the meantime?” I asked him.

He nodded. “Um, yeah sure. Anything else you need?”

If you had told me a week ago that Joey Burgundy and I would become friends again, that he would be the first of my classmates to watch me perform and that I would be teaching him how to ice skate, I would not have believed you.

I shook my head. “No, just a glass of water is fine. Oh, and see if you can find Mr Khan to tell him where we're at. It won’t be great for us if he thinks we’ve run off.”

Joey smiled softly. “Will do. I’ll be back in a sec.”

When I returned to the ballroom, Joey had come back already. He was sitting on one of the covered-up tables and had placed a glass of water on each side of him. When I entered the room, he excitedly looked up from his phone. “Are you ready to show me what you can do?”

I laughed and sat down on the floor to switch out my sneakers for my split sole ballet shoes. “Not so fast, I need to put these on first.”

Joey leaned back against the wall and wondered aloud: “Which character do you play in Coppélia?”

I stood up with a sigh and did a couple of stretches. “I play Franz. He is the lover of Swanilda, who is the main character.”

Joey looked a bit confused. “I thought Coppélia was the main character?”

I snickered and explained: “No Joey, not all titles in ballets are based on the main character. The ballet is named after the beautiful mechanical doll that Dr Coppelius has created that Franz falls in love with.”

He looked at me quizzically. “So, he cheats on Swanilda to be with a mechanical doll? I mean, be into what you’re into, but cheating does not sound like a good idea.”

I laughed again at Joey's bluntness. “Well, it’s more subtle than that. Dr Coppelius wants Franz’s soul to make Coppélia come alive, but Swanilda pretends to be her for a while so Coppelius thinks his experiment has worked. Eventually, she gets bored of it and starts showing her true colours. She wrecks Coppelius’ shop and makes up with Franz. It’s a really thoughtful piece on the harm caused to real relationships by the idealized version of the woman.”

At this point, I had clearly lost Joey, who was looking at me with glassy eyes, which made me smile even brighter. “All you need to know is: man falls in love with a doll, the girl pretends to be the doll, she screws up, they make up, they get married, happy end,” I simplified for him.

“Okay, that I can follow,” Joey smiled in return.

I did a few more stretches and could not decide if I liked Joey's attention or if it felt uncomfortable when he watched me stretch. “My part is not all that interesting or challenging compared to Swanilda’s choreography,” I explained in further detail. “Sadly, they were only casting girls for that part, so I auditioned for the male lead instead.”

Joey huffed, personally getting offended on my behalf. “Tsssk, so typical. You would have nailed Swanilda’s part, I just know it.” He then quickly added apologetically: “Technique-wise wise I mean.”

“Don’t worry, I know you don’t mean to offend me,” I answered nervously. With every minute we spent chatting away, we were delaying the inevitable, and I could feel the anxiety slowly building in my chest. “I have a lot of scenes where I dance with Swanilda, but obviously I can’t do those now, so I’ll just practice the solo scenes.”

Joey nodded patiently when he noticed my rush. “Well, go on then. You look like you’re eager to start!”

I took position and Joey started the music. I started out with the routine from the first set of the ballet, but I immediately felt something was off; my legs were shaking with anxiety, my steps were consistently off beat, and I kept shooting glances at Joey. I also found it much harder to breathe, but I wanted to push on.

Luckily, Joey had a better understanding of what was going on and did not let me escalate the situation further. He stopped the music and said: “This is not going to work, Simon.”

“W-what is?” I asked him, terrified to have done something wrong. My voice had a much higher pitch than normal and my breathing had become irregular.

He sighed and answered: “You don’t have to act like you’re alright. Are you nervous?”

I nodded in defeat. “Yeah, but… It’s not like I have stage fright. I just find it very hard to concentrate when only a few people are looking.”

He smiled gently and took a sip of water. “Don’t worry, I get it. It feels like they’re just there to criticize you, right, even if they aren’t?”

My mouth fell open in surprise. “H-how did you know?”

He grinned deviously. “Well, don’t tell anyone, but my buddy Nick, you know: the one that hit you in the face with an iceball, has the same problem. He plays the guitar and always cramps up whenever he plays for a small crowd, but he’s fine when playing for a sold-out room.”

"No way..." I gasped. "Really? He's scared of playing for a small audience?"

Joey jumped off the table and nodded. "Yeah, he does. It took us ages before we were able to convince him to play for our group of friends and we've been close to him for a long time!"

“Turn around,” he then ordered.

I stuttered: “W-what?”

“Just turn around, Simon." He said it more gently now. “Trust me. I just want to help.”

I begrudgingly obliged.

He started rubbing my shoulders and I almost jumped in surprise. “Now close your eyes and breathe in and out,” he suggested. For some reason, his warm hands did wonders for my stiff shoulders, and as I followed his advice, I felt myself slowly but surely calming down. He slowly let his hands glide down from my shoulders to my waist before letting go completely. I could still feel sparks on my skin long after his hands had left my body.

He sat back down. “Any criticism I have is not important. Just ignore me.” I could have been imagining things, but his voice sounded slightly hoarser than normal. He added with some bitter irony: “I know that’s one thing you’re good at.”

I slowly opened my eyes and he continued: “Keep your back turned towards me and forget all about me.”

I kept slowly breathing in and out and nodded. “Thank you, Joey.” I returned to my starting position. I closed my eyes, immersing myself in the moment and when Joey finally started the music again…

I danced.