No rest for the wicked

I grabbed two coffees from a vendor on the street corner and made my way out of the chill and into the sterile smell of the now familiar hospital.

"Rhea!" His voice was like a dream. Warm and soothing to the nerves. It made everything I worried about melt away and none of it mattered anymore. All those problems were little in comparison to seeing the smile on his face as I walked in.

"Good morning, Papa. Black coffee, no sugar and a splash of cream." He took the offered cup with a wide smile.

"You're my angel, Rhea. The sludge they have in here is no good." I sat on the edge of his bed and enjoyed the sound of that aged, gravelly voice.
It reminded me of Sunday mornings eating cereals and watching cartoons in a kitchen with faded green walls. The smell of coffee in grandma's french press and their old terrier yapping in the background.

"I always bring the best." I leaned over and kissed his forehead. His pale eyes were watery, and he squinted back at me. But the smile on his face was luminous.

"I can't stay long, I have to get to the studio, but I will be back as soon as I can." I fiddled with my cup in my hands.

"No rest for the wicked, huh?" Papa chortled.

"Papa I'm not wicked!" I laughed with him.

Suddenly Aleksander's face flashed behind my eyes, and it stopped my laughter. My grandpa was right. I am wicked.

"Are you alright, dear?" His concern made me feel like a little girl again. He was always the man I could go running and crying to when I fell and scrapped my knees.

But this wasn't something he could put a band-aid on.

"You know I'll be alright. Swan lake will be over soon for the end of the season, and I'll get some time off. I'm just tired." I hoped my reassurance was convincing enough.

"Don't push yourself so hard that you wear yourself thin, alright? You're looking a bit skinny. Are you eating enough?"

"I am," I lied. "I just burn it all off with so fast dancing."

"Your grandmother would have you eating a pot of her fettuccine Alfredo every night if she saw you looking like this." Papa poked at my side where I'm sure he took note of the feel of my ribs.

"She certainly would, but that would make me feel sick during practice. I'll just have to catch up on my pasta eating when we get our break." I couldn't remember the last time I had a bowl of pasta.

"Ah, you better?" He gave me a stern look over the top of his coffee as he took a sip.

"How about this, Papa, once swan lake ends, we go to that Italian place you like?" I reached out and grabbed his free hand, feeling his thin skin and bony knuckles. He was so frail.

"Fraunces Tavern? Yeah, that's a good idea, dear. I'd like that." He put his cup aside to smile at me.

"Good! Then that's what we will do!" I ran my thumb over the back of his hand, trying not to think about how cold he felt. "But I have to go now. Or else I might be late." I couldn't keep the tremor from my voice.

"Go on then!" Get outta here before I kick you out! Papa joked, his tone light enough to make me smile. "No granddaughter of mine is late to practice!"
"I won't be. I promise." I rose from the bed and kissed him on the temple and. "Have a good day, Papa."

"You too, dear." His voice was warm and, like always, it hurt to walk out of that room.

Though Papa was always right, and I made it on time. Tonight was the Friday show, and we needed to be on top of our game. After working out with the other dancers the first half of the day and then rehearsing the show, the second half I was already exhausted by 5 P. M. and ready to eat something.

This time, not wanting to be left alone with my thoughts, I joined Ricky and a few of the other dancers at a salad bar around the corner from the theater. Even though I sat at the table with them, I didn't really really feel like I was one of them. Half of these women would be willing to hurt me just to take my spot if they had a chance.

Becoming Ballerina was supposed to be the ultimate dream of every Ballerina. It had been my dream too long ago. And there was still a kernel of pride in my chest for my accomplishment. But look where it got me.

"How are you feeling, girlie?" Ricky's voice pulled me from my thoughts that I seemed to be getting lost in very easily lately.

"I'm fine." I answered.

"Girl, you know that whole fine thing doesn't work on me. I know no woman is actually fine when she uses that word." He nudged my shoulder, and I pushed around the last of my salad in the bowl.

"I'm tired, Ricky."
"I'm just really tired. I feel like I haven't gotten any real freaking sleep lately", l responded and it was the truth.. Even before moving into Aleksander's last night, my sleep for the past few weeks had been terrible. It wasn't ideal falling asleep every night knowing that any day I could have been asked to give myself to a stranger the next. Nothing but handsy old men and my ailing Papa lived in my head.

Until Aleksander had decided that he wanted me. Now he was in my head too and burrowing a place for himself there at an alarming rate.

"Oh, I get it. I'm so glad we get a break soon. My body hurts so bad all over"
"Plus, my man is handsy all hours"
"Like, please, can I get a moment of rest?" He chuckled and gave me a wicked grin.