Skating Back to You

“Oh yes.” She beamed a bright smile. I’d learned early on that the bigger her smile, the more I’d enjoy the performance. “It’s an incredible production.”

“Good to know. You’ve never led me wrong.” Miss Julia reminded me of my grandmother. I knew from talking to her during intermissions that she’d worked here for decades. The stories she had about the people and shows she’d seen were captivating. I’d met her the first time I’d come here to see the New York City Ballet perform. She’d recognized me from the Empire even though I’d only just arrived for training camp. She knew her hockey.

“I trust you can find your seat?” She always asked that question.

And I always responded the same. “Yes, ma’am.”

Tonight I was here solo since I needed to catch Ballet Strong, which was starting a weeklong engagement. Sometimes friends came along since I had two seats, but tonight I’d kept it simple since I had an early flight out with the team. There was no way I could miss a show featuring male dancers doing a mix of traditional male solos along with new numbers choreographed specifically for the show.

I made my way down to the first row. I enjoyed sitting in the first balcony, and securing seats here and at the adjacent Metropolitan Opera House had been among the first things I’d done when I knew I’d be moving to New York. My parents loved theater and dance and they had brought me up on arts programs on PBS and the occasional live performance when something interesting had played in the area. I hadn’t always understood what I saw in those programs, but watching people move to music had captured my imagination—and still did today.

I slid into the row, saying, “Excuse me” as I went. A young boy was playing on his phone to my right while the seat to my left was empty since I hadn’t brought anyone.

“Whoa.” The boy stretched the word out while keeping his voice down. His parents had clearly taught him how to behave in a theater. “You’re Dixon Cliff.”

His eyes were wide.

“Hi. Yes, I am.”

“I’m so sorry.” His mom looked at me and then at him. “Evan, you shouldn’t be bothering him.”

I shot her a smile. “It’s okay.” I turned my attention to Evan. “It’s nice to meet you, Evan.”

“I didn’t know hockey players liked ballet.”

Not the first time I’d heard that. “I always have. Dancers are some of the most incredible athletes. And the stories they can tell without words are amazing.”

He shrugged. “I guess the pirate show was pretty cool. They even had swords.”

“Le Corsaire,” Evan’s mom offered.

“That’s one of my favorites.”

“My sister likes everyone falling in love.” On the other side of his mom sat a girl who looked a year or two older than Evan. She ignored our conversation in favor of reading the program. Beside her was an empty chair.

“Can’t wait to tell everyone I saw you. Dad’ll flip too when he comes back. Mom?” He held the phone out to her. “Can you take a picture of us?”

“Evan, I’m sure he’d rather not.”

Being stuck between a parent and child wasn’t my favorite place. She clearly wanted to set boundaries with him, but I didn’t mind taking a picture either. Evan looked at her and I took the moment to mouth It’s fine to her so she knew.

“Is it okay with you?” Evan turned back to me.

His mom gave a quick nod with a quiet “Thank you.”

“Sure.” I leaned next to him and he got a little closer. His mom snapped a couple of pictures.

“You’re going to bring home wins on the road, right?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Dad, look who’s sitting next to me.” Evan was a little louder and his mom put a hand on his shoulder.

I heard “Excuse me” coming from behind me and stood to find someone who was unmistakably Evan’s father.

“Dixon Cliff,” I said, holding out my hand.

“Andrew Braxton.” We shook. “And apparently you’ve met Evan.”

“Yes, I have. We talked a little about what he likes to see in a ballet.”

Andrew chuckled. “I’m sure it involved pirates. I hope he didn’t disturb you.”

“Not at all.”

The lights flashed, indicating the performance would start in a few moments.

“Evan, make sure you don’t bother him during the show.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nodding vigorously.

“Good to meet you, Dixon. And thanks.” Andrew gestured at Evan, who was turning off his phone, then headed to his seat on the other side of his family.

Once I’d taken off my coat and settled in my seat, I opened the program to take a quick scan. I liked to read everything before the performance started, but I’d have to settle for the lineup for the evening and read the rest at intermission.

The name of the dancer performing a solo from Swan Lake stopped me.

Oscar Salazar.

Could it be?

I flipped through the booklet looking for pictures. Even though he was all grown up, I recognized him immediately—the kind expression, an energy in his eyes that relayed eagerness, and the dark, curly hair. Before I could flip to his bio, the lights faded and the conductor walked to his podium in the orchestra pit.

Anticipation skyrocketed at the thought of seeing Oscar dance for the first time in nearly twenty years.

When the lights came up on stage, there were eight men sitting and doing stretches on the floor. The orchestra sounded as if they were warming up, although the conductor was guiding them.

My gaze went right to Oscar, the third from the right, as he stretched out to touch his toes. I couldn’t look away as he stood and slowly raised his left leg and brought it up to the side of his head.

Damn.

His picture didn’t fully capture how handsome he’d become. The light blue sleeveless shirt he wore popped against his light brown skin. His strong arms were on full display, and as he went through his warm-up, it became even more apparent how fit he was.

Suddenly the music exploded into “The Rumble” from West Side Story and the dancers broke into movement across the stage. Controlled chaos was the only term that came to mind. They settled into a dance battle, calling out to each other to do something bigger, bolder.

Each performer had their own spectacular flair. I tried to take it all in, but my attention drifted back to Oscar. He vibrated with energy, constantly moving even when he wasn’t center stage. It reminded me of being ready for anything in a face-off.

The energetic medley of West Side songs continued while the dancers gave the audience a taste of what they each brought. At the end, they formed a line at the front of the stage, reminiscent of A Chorus Line.

After that, it felt like an eternity until Oscar returned to the stage to dance Prince Siegfried’s solos from Swan Lake. This was the number that had caught my eye. I’d seen a few versions of the ballet over the years and this was choreography I’d never seen before. He owned the stage with a perfect combination of power and grace. Not until he finished did I realize how far forward I’d moved in my seat or that I’d held my breath for the final set of twirls and leaps.

I restrained myself from a standing ovation for just the third number, although I added to the audience’s thunderous applause.

The show proceeded with incredible dance after incredible dance. Oscar appeared in another two ensemble pieces. He might as well have been out there solo, though, for as much attention as I paid anyone else.

After not appearing in the next three dances, he returned in a pool of light on the far left while another dancer was on the far right. I didn’t recognize the beautiful music that accompanied them. They moved separately for a time but then closed the space between them.

In breathtaking starts and stops, it clearly became the story of a relationship that moved from friends to lovers. The pas de deux blew me away. I’d never seen one featuring two men and the strength they exuded, lifting and moving each other, exhilarated me. I wiped away a tear and took a deep breath as my chest vibrated from the emotionally charged story they told.

The dance continued, telling the story of a life lived. The longer it went, the more I couldn’t control my emotions. Tears flowed freely as the music’s last notes faded along with the lights. Oscar knelt over the other dancer, who lay still on the stage.

The audience erupted in applause. I sat still, unable to even join in. The dance would’ve evoked an emotional response no matter what, but seeing Oscar performing that left me profoundly moved. And if act one ended with that, I couldn’t imagine what act two had in store.

The house lights came up on an empty stage.

“Mr. Cliff, are you okay?” Evan asked as I wiped my eyes.

I couldn’t find my voice, so I looked over and nodded.

“Evan, he just needs a minute.” His mom spoke quietly as I tried to get myself under control. She offered a tissue and I took it.

“Thank you,” I managed to say without a voice crack.

“It was amazing,” she said softly.

“Yes, it was.”

“Come on, Evan,” his dad said, “let’s get you and Lizzie a cookie.”

I stared at the stage and dabbed at my eyes. Oscar had come a long way from the recitals I’d seen him in.

Once I got the tears under control, I got up to stretch my legs and get water.

“What did you think?” Miss Julia asked as I emerged into the lobby.

“I’m not sure I have the right words.” I held up the balled-up tissue.

She nodded. “I watch that last number every night. It’s so good.”

“Is there a way to get a message backstage? I’d like to see one of the dancers afterward, if that’s possible.”

“Of course. I can take one to the stage door to pass on.”

“That would be amazing.” Of course, I had no pen or paper, so that complicated things a bit.

“Here.” Miss Julia passed over a pen and a small pad she produced from her jacket pocket.

“Thank you.”

It only took a moment to compose the message.

O-man!

No fair making me cry!

I’d love to see you after the show if you’re free. I’ll come to the stage door.

- Dix

I tore the page out, folded it in half, and wrote Oscar’s name on it.

“Thanks, Miss Julia. I haven’t seen Oscar since we were kids and now to see what he can do…” I trailed off to avoid tearing up again.

“How wonderful. I’ll make sure this gets to him. You know where the stage door is, right?”

“I do. Yes.”

Chimes sounded, which meant that intermission would end in five minutes.

“I’m going to get some water,” I said. “Thanks for taking the message. I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

She gave me a warm smile. “Play some good defense for us, Mr. Cliff.”