The Dancer
by Marie LeClaire
Holding tightly to her valise, she glanced over her shoulder before stepping onto the platform.
Was she doing the right thing? There was no going back. Her parents had made that very clear in their
final conversation.
“This is an abomination against god and all that is holy,” her mother shrieked at her.
“How can something so beautiful offend God?” she screamed back.
“That is not for you to ask! The bible is clear on this.”
“Clear as mud! Show me the prohibition!” Rebecca demanded.
“Why are you doing this? You know this will shame our entire family!” Her mother had
reverted to sobbing which was the fallback strategy when shear volume didn't shift things in her favor.
“I've been trying to tell you, mother. You haven't been listening. I can't live this life anymore.
I'm dying inside. Is that what you want for me? To be as dead as you are?” She regretted it as soon as
she said it. It pushed her mother over the edge.
“Get out! Get out and never return! You are dead to us. And my God's wrath be levied upon
you.” The rest of her family stood in stunned silence, not even her twin brother came to her aid.
It felt like her insides were being pulled out. This was not how she imagined this going. But her
decision was made. The passion that burned in her chest would not be denied. How could she make any
other decision? Still, the pain of losing everything threatened to dislodge her resolve. What if she was
wrong. What if she failed? She couldn't. She wouldn't. Dancing was the only thing that mattered to her.
It was all she thought about, all she wanted to do. How could that be an affront to God?
She'd taken lessons secretly online, memorizing all the YouTube classes she could find. The
promotional video had been particularly tricky to accomplish but she finally managed a short piece of
her own choreography. She sent it, along with a letter of explanation, to the New York City Ballet.
Shockingly, they asked her to come in for a formal audition and ultimately accepted her into the
Company dance school. Her dream was coming true. Sort of.
Someone pushed her gently from behind. “Come on people. Let's get moving. We have a snow
storm to outrun.” The conductor was literally herding passengers onto the train. “No time to gab. Let's
go. Let's go.”
The looming clouds cast an extra layer of gloom over the day. What was the weather in the City
That Doesn't Sleep? It didn't matter. The die was cast, the ticket purchased. She found a seat by the
window. By the time the train left, a light snow had started to fall. She wondering if the wintery mix
would delay her arrival? Reaching into her carry-on, she pulled out the letter that had changed her
world forever. It was clutched tightly to her chest as she dozed off.
She awoke to bright lights overhead, disoriented. Where was she? Her first attempt to move sent
stunning pain throughout her body. Something covered her nose and mouth. Beeping sounds echoed
off the walls. She tried again to move, this time pushing through the pain enough to turn her head
towards a voice.
“Hey there, Rebecca. It's good to see you awake.” A woman touched her shoulder gently.
Rebecca tried to speak but only managed a groan.
“Don't move dear. You've been in an accident. Do you remember?”
A woman in white was coming into focus. Rebecca gently shook her head.
“You were on the train from Kansas City. There was a bad storm and the train jumped the tracks
south of Scranton, Pennsylvania. You're University Hospital in Philadelphia.”
Rebecca could barely make sense of it. She finally managed a whisper. “When?”
“Two days ago.”
“Nooooo.” Rebecca remembered the letter. She was on her way to New York.
“You're very lucky,” the woman in white continued. “It was a bad accident. A lot of people died.
It looks like you'll recover almost as good as new.”
“Almost?” Rebecca's voice was soft and raspy through the oxygen mask.
“The doctor will be in shortly. She'll tell you everything.”
Rebecca lay there catching her breath. Even this slight effort left her tired. If she had the energy
she'd have been frightened but as it was, she struggled to remain conscious. Pain emanated from
everywhere. She tried to take a physical inventory, moving what she could. First fingers, then arms,
shoulders and head, all moved slightly. The pain got progressively worse as she continued her. The
main source seemed to be her legs. Panic fired up her consciousness. What was happening?
Another white-coated woman stood by her bed.
“Hello. I'm Doctor Blevens. I was here when they brought you in. You're very lucky.”
“It doesn't feel like it,” she forced out in a scratchy voice.
“You only sustained one major injury but I'm afraid it's a serious one. One of your legs was
mangled in the crash. We managed to save it but recovery will be a long road.” The doctor paused to
let the information sink in.
“Do you have any family we can call?”
She shook her head gently. She was on her own. No. Wait. She wasn't going down this easily.
She forced out the words.
“New York School of Ballet.”