Chapter 6 As Tempting As A Siren Song

Back at her childhood home in the heart of Glen Eagles, Holly headed to her room. She hadn't slept there in years and hadn't stepped inside in just as long. Confronted by old smells and the lingering ghosts of her younger self, she didn't know how to feel about being back here. So she simply stood there, unsure what to do, until she felt her mom's arm encircle her shoulders. "Everything is still the same, exactly how you left it," Lois said as she propped the crutches against the wall just inside the door. Her mom meant well, and her words were supposed to comfort and reassure her. But it was that exact 'sameness' that filled Holly with dread and helplessness. The room was the same, but she wasn't. She'd changed, and all in a single afternoon, her dreams destroyed by Dr Evans' announcement—'But you can't dance anymore.' "Go on," Lois gently pushed her inside the room. The smell of ambitious hope her fifteen-year-old self had held onto all those years ago hit Holly with the same intensity as her mom's familiar fragrance. She liked her mom's scent better, though. It reminded her of a time in her childhood when ballet wasn't the only thing that had consumed her life. She must have been about three then because she had begun dancing as a hobby at the tender age of four, but she'd still loved playing with her dolls and her brother's cars more. When her dance instructor had sung her praises at five, her focus had begun to shift slightly. More ballet slippers, tutus, and high buns than Barbie dolls and Liam's cars. At eight, she'd firmly cemented her place in the world of junior ballet when she won several dance competitions and appeared in a few local productions. At ten, she had her first leading role, and boy, did she burn bright on that stage! For weeks after, her performance in The Nutcracker was all the local newspapers had talked about— "Honey, give yourself time," Lois said, playing with Holly's hair like she used to back when she was a kid. Her all-too-familiar scent struck Holly again. She smelled like home, and just for that moment, Holly allowed herself to believe in the lie: all she needed was time. "Mom," she began as she ventured deeper into the room. "About earlier, at the hospital, with the crutches. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. It's just that...It's just so hard, that's all. And you're right. Time is all I need. I can come back from this. I will come back from this!" "That's the spirit," Lois said before spinning on her dainty, velvet pumps and leaving the room. At the door, she turned back around, announcing, "I'll ask Nanette to make all your favourites tonight." Holly nodded, blinding her with a smile as bright as the tears gleaming in her eyes. 'You'd better not cry,' she told herself. 'You're an Anderson. You don't break.' "Supper should be ready in an hour," Lois said, clasping her frail, wrinkly hands. "Eden is coming over with the kids. Willow will be here soon as well." "Mom, you told them?" Holly threw her hands up in frustration. "Of course not!" Lois said sharply, shaking her head in denial. "It's the mandatory weekly supper, remember?" "Can I skip it?" Frowning, Lois placed her hands on her hips. "Why?" Holly buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled when she spoke, "For obvious reasons. I'm not ready to see anyone today. I can't deal with the questions and the pity." "No, I'm afraid that's not a good enough reason," Lois said. The look in her eyes was firm and uncompromising as she stared her down into submission. "You will join us for supper tonight. I refuse to let you hide in your room! I didn't raise a coward." "I'm not a coward, Mom! And do you think I want any of this?" Holly yelled, pointing at her knee brace." Dancing is my whole life! It's all I've ever wanted to do since I was five. And I don't want to hide! But what other choice do I have? I just can't face anyone right now." "Honey," Lois said as she retraced her steps and took her hands in hers. "I know things look bleak right now, but there's so much more to life. This injury doesn't have to be the end of the road for you. There's still so much you can do, so much beauty to be seen. You could teach or go into choreography." "Teaching and choreography is what we do when our careers are over, Mom. When our stars fade, and our light burns out, we return to the ordinary. And I may be many things, but ordinary isn't one of them!" "Good," Lois nodded. "That fire burning in your belly, hang on tight to it because you'll need it to pick yourself up and keep fighting over the next few weeks if you are so determined to return to the stage. But tonight's supper is happening, and I expect you downstairs promptly at six!" With that, their heated exchange was over. She turned around, dashed out of the room, and shut the door softly behind her, leaving Holly alone with the ghosts of her past. "Goodness," she mumbled as she leaned on the door, stunned anew by how everything was exactly as it was when she moved out. It was almost as if the room was still waiting for her fifteen-year-old self to return. The four-poster bed with the mountain of pillows and stuffed animals remained undisturbed. The dance trophies she'd amassed over the years lining the walls, along with posters of world-renowned ballerinas, remained untouched by the passage of time. One of her old dance costumes, peeking through the ajar walk-in closet, brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes as profound grief flooded her heart, and she couldn't stand being there. So she crossed the room and hobbled into her en suite bathroom, where she rifled through the cabinet drawers, relief rocking her body when she found a sealed pack of razors. She hadn't done it in a while. Cut herself, that is. She'd had no reason to. Her life was on the up and up. But today, the urge was bigger than her, its call as tempting as a siren song. She slipped the pack of blades inside her crossbody bag, along with her fresh stash of pain and anxiety meds and other not-so-legal drugs, before requesting an Uber ride. There was no way she'd stay in this room with all the accusations from her fifteen-year-old self. "Supper will be ready soon, Nanette's making all your favourites!" Mrs Horowitz, the housekeeper, called after Holly when she saw her heading for the front door. "I'll be back in time," she lied as she slipped out of the house and slowly trudged her way to the waiting Uber on the other side of the massive wrought iron gates. She had no intention of sitting through the family dinner. She'd rather be elsewhere than take all the pity in everyone's eyes and field fifty thousand questions about her injury. If there was anything she hated the most, it was pity. There'd be plenty of it at the dinner table, and she couldn't have that. After all, she was always on the giving end of pity, always ready to shake her head at some unfortunate soul who just couldn't get the choreography right no matter how long they practised. No, Holly was the queen of dishing out pity. As a result, she had never been on the receiving end. Until today. Until Dr Evans' devastating announcement. His words, still echoing in her mind like a record stuck on repeat, were enough to send her into a fit of anger. "Calm down; tomorrow, you'll get a second opinion, and you'll be back on stage before you know it," she consoled herself as she closed her eyes and eased back in her seat, appreciating the loud roar of the engine as the car sped through the streets of Rock Castle.