Chapter 8

I finish the apple with a smile and a shake of the head, throw away its core and wonder what am I to do with the rest of my day. The dance studio beckons, I can hear its silent call, and suddenly I can't resist anymore. I need to dance. Running upstairs, I quickly don tight leggings, an old t-shirt, and grabbing a pair of ballet shoes, I rush to the office. This room always makes me feel conspicuous. Don't know what it is about it, but there's a heaviness in here, as if bad things happened inside. I've sat at that desk a couple of times - just because - and swear I could feel the weight of the deceased's eyes on me; those light blue orbs angered and revolted by another man taking his place. The thought of taking his place kind of swirls around my mind every time I'm here, staring at the photos on the shelves. The largest one is a wedding shot, the deceased and Jai holding hands and wearing sharp suits, all smiles and joy.

The way Jai stares at him in that photo is a mix of awe, passion and dread. There are other photos of them, and a few candids of Jai, looking way too young to have been married to a man as old as this dead doctor who still haunts this house. I shudder as I walk by the photos, the desk. Opening the door to the dance studio, I cart a chair inside, put on my ballet shoes, then balance an iPod on it, Chopin playing as I take a couple of breaths before reaching for the barre. As usual, I start with a few tendus, then pli‚s, going through the syllabus I know by heart, now. My body performs on its own, has no need for my brain to direct it, muscle memory does the job.

And it's heaven.

This is home, for me; this is where I find myself, where I belong, where I'm alive. This is my life. Going through the adage, sweat already drenching my body, heart racing, this is where I feel most alive. It's where I cleanse my mind of thoughts or worries, it's where I find complete immersion, a sense of high so overwhelming it's akin to doing drugs. It's a rush, and boy, how I've missed this rush. Once I'm done with barre, although knowing better, I want to tackle centre practice. Coincidentally or not, Siegfried's solo from Swan Lake's first act comes up on the Ipod, and I can't help myself. It's not an overly strenuous variation, and I've warmed up good - I throw myself into it.

I notice it first during one of the jetes. A muscle on my lower back, tightening and cramping. It's minor, so I ignore it and push on. But by the final round of pirouettes, my back stiffens, and I can't hold position any longer. My vision blurs and swirls, I end up falling on my hip, and it hurts like a motherfucker. It's like my lower back's caught in a vise, being chomped between the jaws of some giant monster. I pant and whimper on the floor, a sense of impotence washing over me, an anger far beyond any I've ever felt climbing up my chest, and with a curled fist, I punch the floor repeatedly. Stupid idea, now my hand hurts. Bringing knees to my chest, I rest forehead against them, take a few deep breaths, forcing the muscles on my back to relax, until finally the pain subsides and I can move again. Getting on my feet, I turn off the iPod and exit the dance studio, despair clawing at me.

Am I really never going to dance again?

The thought alone is enough to make me want to die. I've already lost more than I can handle, there's no way I can afford to lose this, too. Leaning against the door, I close my eyes and let pain wash over me - both emotional and physical. In a few days, the woman I loved for five long years is marrying the man who was my best friend for almost a decade. In less than a week, the drama I starred at before falling off that horse wraps up filming, and I'm no longer in it. Several brand representation contracts I had fell down the drain, after the allegations of drug and alcohol abuse. Ballet season will begin next month, and I won't be dancing in The Nutcracker, I won't be a part of it. In less than a month, I'll have lost most of what made me who I am.

What point is there to this? What am I doing here? Why am I here, why am I anywhere?

Before despair can really grab hold of me, music playing in the kitchen catches my ear, Leandra has come for the cleaning. I open my eyes, smile at the sound of her voice, singing along in Portuguese with a Brazilian accent. She has a lovely voice, if not a strong, powerful one, and loves singing while working. I listen closely, and something about the song moves me, the combined voices of a woman and a man blending into perfection. My arms break in goosebumps, my eyes stray towards the shelves, to a photo of Jai alone. Huge, dark eyes on a face that's white and flawless, lips curled in his usual sweet smile, one where a shadow always seems to lurk, the same one that hides in those eyes. I suddenly want to unravel the secrets I'm sure he hides.

This is a dangerous place to let my mind roam.

I push myself from the door and march out of the office, straight to the kitchen, where Leandra blushes as she sees me walk in, stops mid-singing like she was caught doing something forbidden. I can't help smirking.

"Mr Lin, I thought you were out." She rushes to turn off the music, I wave her away.

"Leave it, it's nice. What is it?"

"Brazilian band. Jai loves this song."

Yes, of course he would, sounds sweet like him. "What's it about?" I reach for a glass and fill it with water, drinking slowly.

"It's someone telling the person they love how much they make them happy, how much they love them, how their life is so much better for having them in it. A love song, basically."

"You've known Jai for long?" Why am I asking about him? Leandra seems to study me with careful attention, I blush under her stare.

"Yes, for a very long time. His mother helped me when I was at my worst, practically living on the streets. Gave me a job when I most needed it, was my best friend."

"She passed away, huh? How long ago? What was it?"

She gives the counter one final wipe, eyes my glass questioningly, and I feel obliged to rinse it and put it away to dry. "She died not long after Jai's wedding. Cancer. Stage four, when it was diagnosed, and still she fought. Dr Sommers and Jai insisted she did, as did Mr Schiavone. JiaLi wouldn't have gone through all the chemo and radio if it weren't for them."

Shit, I shouldn't have asked. Now all I can think about is Jai watching his mother die, and him so young. I lost my own mother two years ago, she died in her sleep, peacefully, at the age of sixty-seven. Still think she died of a broken heart, she never got over my father's death. It was sudden, both of them, but at least it didn't drag on. YuMing and I didn't have to watch them die a little more, day by day, weakened and in pain.

"What about his father?"

Leandra eyes me with a glare I can't read, so I give her my most innocent look. "Jai's never met him. JiaLi was a single mother, her parents helped her raise Jai. He has no more family, now. Well, except for me, of course, we're family, even if not blood related. That boy's been through a lot, lately," she says, with a voice that's filled with sadness. "Hasn't had it easy. Could do with a break. I'm glad he got out of this place, too many memories, you know? Found a nice flat of his own, where he can be himself. Where he can find himself, which is something he was never able to do. Decorated the place to his taste, and it looks really good."

"I know, I've seen it." The inquisition in her eyes makes me uncomfortable, so I rush to explain. "I went into town for apples, earlier today, ran into Jai. It started raining, so he offered me a ride home. When he went to collect the car keys, he showed his new place. Really nice."

Shit, why do I feel so self-conscious? Why am I asking about this kid? It's none of my business, is it? But I feel there's a mystery hiding here, and I kind of want to know. Maybe I'm just bored. She moves to grab a mop and a bucket, meaning to wash the floors. I know I'm standing in her way, and should leave the woman to work, only I can't really help myself, can I?

"Were they happy?" I ask, and she cocks her eyebrow and gives me the oddest little smile. "It's just that when Jai speaks of his late husband..." Shit, I hate that word, at least when related to him. "It sounds as if the man was a bit... how should I say... controlling?"

Leandra nods. "Dr Sommers could be a bit intense. The age difference between them, I know a lot of people say it doesn't matter when there's love involved, but it did matter. Jai was a teenager when they met, when they got together, when they got married. He was practically a child. JiaLi was relieved to know he'd be taken care of after she died, that's why she was never against their relationship, but... Dr Sommers was too old for Jai. And because of that, there were tensions between them, there was jealousy, insecurity, for both. Jai often... I shouldn't be saying this."

"I'm sorry, I was just curious. Because the age gap is really... I mean, he was practically a child. And he seems to be such a good kid."

"Oh, he is, Jai's adorable. He deserves to be happy, to have some peace."

"I'll leave you to finish your work, gonna hop in the shower."

"You been dancing, Mr Lin?"

"Yeah."

"Jay says you're really good. He wanted to do ballet after seeing you win that talent show, you know? I used to drive him to dance school every day, he was very serious about it, always saying he wanted to be like Lin DaoShi, wanted to dance like Lin DaoShi."

It's bittersweet to hear this. He's never mentioned knowing who I am, but has never acted as if he didn't. Still, it makes me feel old, that I've influenced a child to get into dancing. But he did take it seriously, after all, unlike what he told me. It must have been that husband of his who talked him out of it. I wonder why.

"Told him to use the studio whenever he wanted," I tell her, don't know why. "Actually, he'd be doing me a favour if he came practise with me, I could do with someone help look for weak spots in my dancing, I'm a bit rusty."

"That's really nice of you, Mr Lin. Jai's gonna be happy."

Jai's gonna be happy. And for whatever reason, the fact Jai's gonna be happy puts a stupid grin on my mug and a spring to my step.

Not to mention the wave of heat in my stomach.