Finding Eden

07

I grimaced as I rewrapped my feet with gauze and slipped in the padding for my pointe shoes. It was February already and the first showing for Le Corsaire was in three weeks. The strain my practices were giving me was clear to see when my aunt asked if I wanted to see her dermatologist. She said my skin was lacklustre and wondered if I had a skin disease. I told her she was being ridiculous and omitted the excessive rehearsing I had subject myself to lately.

"I need to be perfect," I had said.

"I understand. But is it worth it? Can't you just go back to school? Honey, your friends miss you," she had replied.

Before my laugh could escape me, I clenched down hard on my lips. My friends and I haven't spoke in a year.

"It's worth it and I want it. I'm Medora for god's sake."

"Please rest more then. It's..." her eyes had slid off of my face and glided over to the mantelpiece.

I had known what she was going to say and I didn't want to hear it so I had cut her off. "I'll visit them soon. Come to terms."

My aunt's eyes had glossed over and she had hesitated before wrapping me in her embrace. She smelled exactly like my mom. "I'll come visit again soon. Right after we publish the editorial," she had said before she grabbed her coat and umbrella and left.

The skip in the CD jolted me from my thoughts. I landed my brisés and shuffled over to the stereo. There was something wrong with the stereo system. The only other thing I could do at this point was to use my laptop but I had a yearning to go to Cade's. When I wasn't dancing, I was thinking of ways where I could see him. In the short time of a month, he had occupied my vacant mind with his blatant ways and un-prying words.

The moment I stepped out the door, the cold winter bit into my bare legs (I didn't like to wear tights in the privacy of my own home) so I quickly made my way to Cade's house. He had a little lawn where his roses were blooming but I couldn't conjure up the image of him stooped over the bush attending to them.

"Eden!"

He was leaning on his minuscule balcony railing clutching a crimson popsicle.

"Out smoking again?" I peered up. He let out a hearty laugh.

"Initially yes. But I didn't want it half a minute in so I'm having this," he waved his popsicle.

"What's with you and ice cream during winter?"

"They don't melt this way."

"Anyways, do you happen to have a working stereo?" I rocked on my feet. Cade held up a finger—hold on. A moment later, he open the front door and let me in. His lips were bright red from the popsicle

"Do you need to practice or something?" he asked as we walked up his stairs to his studio. "I don't have a lot of room..." he said. He then started clearing up all this cords and pedals and placed his instruments to the wall. I gave him the CD and took off my coat. A small grin ghosted his mouth when he saw my attire. Suddenly, I felt just a bit self-conscious and shy and wondered why I was even here. But then he grabbed my hand and lifted it above my head so I spun en relevé for him.

"Bravo!" He clapped and I curtsied.

For the next hour, I warmed up and practiced my numbers while he sat on the floor in the far corner, pausing whatever he was doing to rewind the song for me now and then. Normally, I would never dance in front of people other than those in my class and my instructor. I didn't like to be watched but onstage, the lights make unnoticeable of the penetrating stares. My leotard was soaked by the time I finished.

Cade followed me back to mine after I was done rehearsing. He sat there watching me treat my feet and knead the box of my pointe shoes before drying them. I liked how he didn't ask a lot of questions and just watched.

"Let's take a walk," he proposed. It was already evening and the sun was just beginning to set.

"Where to?" I asked warily.

"I need to go to the bookshop," he replied. So I cleaned up and changed into clean clothes—my warmest sweater and jeans. These days I never stopped shivering. I threw on my boots and coat and locked the door behind me as Cade put on his gloves outside.

"Eden, look." He was pointing at the sky.

Will you marry me Sarah?

I couldn't help but laugh at the already-fading-skywriting proposal. My father had asked my mom when he showed up unexpected at her front door, all the way across the world.

"My dad proposed by fortune cookie," Cade said with a smile on his face. He said it in such a way that it needed no reply and so we walked side by side.

At the bookshop, Cade picked out a book and paid for it while I looked at the records near the back. Half the artists were unfamiliar to me, who had grown up listening and dancing to classical music. Outside, he handed me a lollipop.

"What for?" I twirled it in my hands.

"I took an extra at checkout when the girl wasn't looking," Cade said and winked, a matching lollipop in his mouth. I placed mine in the pocket of my coat and tightened my scarf.

There was this look on his face that I've come to be so familiar with that cautioned that a question was going to surface on his lips. I looked away and started walking faster before he managed to get it out.

"Eden?"

"Yeah?"

"..."

"What is it Cade?"

"Did I...see you at the cemetery? January 3rd."

"..."

"Forget I asked." He walked a little bit faster and shoved his hands into his pockets, book dangling from the plastic bag around his wrist, lollipop dangling from mouth.

"Yeah. I think I saw you too," I said at last. Truth was, I didn't remember anything about that day except for the snow and the coffins.

"Oh," was all he said.

I stared at the pavement because I knew that if I looked up, I would see his pitying face and I would cry. The last thing I wanted was that. That was before his hand gripped my elbow roughly and pulled me back. I tensed.

My neck snapped up and I was prepared to yell at him.

"Hey, watch it," he murmured softly.

Regret flickered in his eyes and I realised he stopped me from walking into oncoming traffic. Then he pulled me forward this time, into his chest. We stood there as he rested his chin on my head, on the corner of our street, ten meters from our homes. We were soundless as he guided me back to his house.

"You can take a shower. The bathroom's to the left of my room," he said before disappearing into said room.

His bathroom was immaculate and he had everything position neatly, even white linen towels. I took a deep breath, stripped, walked into the shower and slid the glass door shut behind me. There wasn't a ledge so he had his products lined up on the floor. The hot steam of the water soothed me as did the scent of his shampoo. He also had a miniature bottle of conditioner—I assumed one of his female friends left it behind.

***

When I finished drying myself off, I creaked open the door a little to find that he had laid down clothes for me.

The door to his bedroom was open and I was about to knock before I heard a sound. He was sitting in the dark and I could just make out his silhouette faintly. His hand was covering his eyes and he was hunched, back facing me. It sounded like he was having a panic attack, his form heaving and rising, trembling and shaking.

I lowered my eyes before I gathered my clothes quietly and made my way to the guest room.

I had trouble falling asleep that night.