This Bitter Earth

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This Bitter Earth

The thing about death is the finality of it. Death doesn’t care whether you haven’t gotten a chance to watch your favorite show that you recorded to watch after work or the big social event you have been consistently counting down the days until, marking a red x on your calendar. Death can take away these things at any time it wishes, without blinking an eye.

It was a typical Wednesday night in New York City. Fathers closing up at the office to rush home to their families, most likely coming home to dinner leftovers already sealed away in the fridge due to the heavy workload the Boss has been giving them lately. Teenagers sneaking out to catch an underground show, and coffee shops stacking their chairs to end a long day of the usual hustle and bustle of providing the city with the coffee we all so love and desperately depend on. That night was different. Well at least for me it was. It was the opening night for This Bitter Earth, a prestigious ballet that I have been preparing for this past year. Hundreds of people were going to be there, including the ballet department from Juilliard who specifically were there to see me dance. It wasn’t my audition to get in, but I mean, it may as well have been.

The first number had just ended and I pose, frozen and statue-like, waiting for the lights to dim. I remain in the same position, suppressing my heavy breathing in result to my performance. Ah, finally the loud applause of the audience echoes throughout the theatre. We all run off the stage to quickly change for the next number, the finale scene. As soon as I reached my dressing room, I quickly kicked off my ballet shoes sending them in opposite directions. Changing out of my leotard was the real challenge, but after fourteen out of the seventeen years of my life, I’ve mastered it. I carefully wiggled out of my off white leotard which was decked out in jewels. Franco, the costume designer, really outdid himself this year. I mean man; I’ve been wearing Franco’s leos since I was around four years old, but this, this was spectacular. The next number was the funeral scene, the most important number of the entire performance. It starts off as a duet, starring Elijah and I, then slowly breaks off into a cannon of other dancers. I practically jumped into my black leotard, slipped into my tutu, and grabbed my shoes as I headed to the stage. As I sit on the sidelines of the stage and carefully lace my ballet shoes, I play the routine in my head over, and over again. There was absolutely no room for mistakes in this number. I make eye contact with Elijah who I spot on the opposite end of the stage as he stretches. We smile at each other, but what I see are my own inner feelings being reflected back at me. It was the same smile that you give to people when you assure them that you’re fine, I don’t feel like turning inside out right now or anything. In reality, you are just trying to keep the lid on your jar of emotions sealed shut. I quickly stand up and wiggle each foot. Left, then right. Call it a tradition if you will. Whatever it was, that little movement always seemed to do the trick to calm my nerves. Suddenly, the stage went black and the dancers ran off as the audience applauded. I inhaled so deeply filling my lungs with so much air I’m surprised I didn’t pop then and there, then slowly let myself deflate. I walked on the stage and posed, reminding myself to just enjoy this and not think about all the other shit. “Let’s do this,” Elijah whispered to me as we waited for the lights and music to begin. And just like that, the lights and music simultaneously opened and the statues that we once were, came to life.

I was doing my A La Seconde Turns, a turn where one leg is in the air as I simultaneously spin my entire body around. These turns would go on for 3 counts of 8, which is 12 turns in all. It’s as if I have a string, or a metal pole going straight through my head all the way down to my supporting foot. Just like the little ballerinas you see in jewelry boxes that turn once the box opens. I only have 3 turns left I tell myself, but I can't help but struggle keeping my focus on the one object that helps me keep my balance. Three men are swiftly walking down one of the aisles and turn into one of the rows. It is common etiquette to wait until the performance is at least over before walking in front of other spectators, but then I catch a glimpse of the little badge that reads PARAMEDICS in bold white letters. I finish my last turn a little shaky in hopes of the scouts from Juilliard not noticing. I thank a higher power for not completely losing my balance and falling. As I chaîné to the right wing of the stage I can see in my peripheral that there is someone being carried out in a stretcher.I wonder what happened, are they going to be okay? I thought to myself. Focus Kenall, I remind myself. Once I bring myself back to my present self dancing, I continue the routine with ease. I lift my leg behind me extending it to the ceiling in an arabesque. People in the crowd were now turning their heads towards the man being carried away in the stretcher, and thats when I see him. That man in the stretcher, was my Father.

~~~~~~

After the finale, I received a standing ovation, a shitload of flowers, and a ride to the ambulance. Come on, pick up your phone. Robby, please please pick up your phone. Voicemail. “Hey this is Robby, you know what to do!”,my brothers cheerful voice on the other end. “Hey, Robbie its Kenny, please call me back immediately...its urgent.” Finally the ambulance comes to a stop and one of the paramedics gives me a hand coming out. I wrapped myself in my favorite black Burberry trench coat and approached the automatic doors of the New York Presbyterian hospital. Once I signed in at the front desk I was asked to sit in the waiting room. I remember I suddenly felt so out of place decked out in black lipstick and my multiple layered tutu to match it. Well it definitely makes sense why everyone is staring at me. Finally a tall woman with espresso brown skin and black curly hair entered through the doors, “Kendall Gray?”, her voice smooth and crisp. She would be perfect for a radio talk show, I thought to myself. I followed her into the hallway so she could tell me what had happened to my Father. “My name is Desiree...Kendall sweetie, your Father did not make it, I am so terribly sorry for your loss. We did everything we”- It was a heart attack that killed him, he died on the way to the hospital. At that point I was no longer listening to her. I felt nothing, I wasn't even certain if I was still breathing or not. All I could think of was There was no way my Father is gone. There is no possible way that he is dead. How can this be? I was just with him this morning, him making the pancakes while I make the eggs, just like we did every morning. Now he is just gone? No, my dad wouldn't just leave me without saying goodbye,nope. I followed Desiree down the hallway, it felt like it would keep growing longer and longer preventing me from seeing the truth that lay ahead. What seemed like hours of walking to the room, we were finally there and she opened the door and I followed in behind her. “I’ll leave you alone,” Kendall said with a sympathetic smile. I walk over slowly to the bed and there he was, the gregarious and cheerful man I once was with only a couple of hours ago. Now he lay there lifeless and empty. His beautiful soul was no longer present, death had already evicted him. There I was standing over his bed, the freaking ballerina of death, oh the irony of it all. As I stand there in silence, it hits me that this is the last time I will ever see my Father ever again. That jar of emotions inside of me that was usually sealed shut, was now ready to explode. I reached out my arm and brushed the side of his cheek with my knuckles. I’ve never been much of a cryer, holding in what I really felt always came second nature to me. After my mother abandoned Robby, my dad, and I, being strong was the only way to cope through it. Now the man who was always my rock, the only other person that I felt who understood me, was gone. “Hey dad,” I finally break the silence. “I don't,” my voice cracks and I can't get any words to come out. “I dont know what to say. I think I should start off with thank you.” my now shaking hand quickly rubs my nose preventing it from running. “ Thank you for being the man you were. Thank you for teaching me how to do my hair, for encouraging me to chase after my dreams, thank you for always saying the right thing to me when I was upset, or had a problem, thank you for making me laugh until my stomach hurt. Thank you for!-” I tried with all my might to hold it in, but surely I lost that battle. It was like a tsunami, holding back so much and then once it couldn't hold it anymore, it just let it all go. Tears were now uncontrollably streaming down my face. “Thank you for loving me unconditionally. You carried a love so big that I never thought twice about mom not loving me enough to stay, you were more than enough.” I lay my head on his chest just how I used to fall asleep on him as a little girl. “You were much more than just my dad. You were my best friend…..and I don't know what I’m going to do without my best friend.” I lie there for what felt like forever. Listening to his heartbeat used to help me fall asleep every night, now all I hear are the faint beeping sounds of an EKG monitor echoing throughout the hallway. Finally the silence was broken when Desiree came inside the room. “Kendall dear, we have to talk about signing some papers so we can release the body to the funeral home. Do you have any other family that we can call?” I look up at her and slowly nod my head, since that is all I can manage to do. “Yes.” I say. “My brother, Robby. He’s out of the country right now for his internship.” “Okay, do you mind coming with me so we can give him a call?” I stand up from the chair and the legs that have been trained to be strong enough to keep my balance, wobble violently. It didn't matter how strong I was, dance would never have prepared me for something this. I lean over and kiss my dad once last time on the forehead. “I love you. Forever and always.” I whisper as if it was only meant for him to hear.

~~~~

“ Okay, so the only thing left to discuss is your father’s will and testament,” said Melissa the attorney. I shoot a quick glance at my brother and then back to Melissa. She was a little taller than me, probably around 5’8, blonde glossy hair that fell to her small shoulders. Her face was small, but it was her big hazel eyes that occupied most of the space; she was actually quite pretty. Melissa looked about in her mid twenties, right around my brothers age. My brother does this weird cough to clear his throat, “Right.” He says. “Lets go over this.” Melissa smooths her hair behind her ears and begins reading, “ The Last Will And Testament of James Michael Gray. I James Michael Gray who resides in Manhattan, New York , being of sound mind and body, hereby declare this to be my Last Will and Testament. I hereby revoke all previous wills and codicils. I Have two children. They are named Robert Michael Gray and Kendall Elizabeth Gray. I appoint Melissa Anne Hart to act as the Administrator of this will, and to serve without bond.” If someone told me last week that in a few days I would be listening to my dad’s will, I don't think I’d believe them. But here I am, in my living room sitting in my dad’s favorite reading chair, doing just that. I realize Melissa is no longer talking anymore and now focusing her attention on me. “ Hey...I know this is hard. I worked with your father and he was such a good man. Would you like me to keep going or shall we continue the rest of this tomorrow?” Melissa asked with concern in her voice. “No, I’m sorry. Please go ahead, I’d like to just get this over with.” I say trying not to sound irritated. Melissa furrows her eyebrow as if she was about to attempt making me feel less shity and then shoots me a consoling smile. “Okay, where was I? Right, financial affairs. I give all the rest and residue of my estate to Robert Michael Gray and Kendall Elizabeth Gray. I bequeath the Hamptons beach house to both of my children. I bequeath my watch,(to be continued..)