chapter 34

There was nothingLillian wanted more than to be with Izzy, but she’d committed to the documentary. Her parents sent a car to the Mimosa Resort. Being chauffeured to her parents’ house felt like traveling back in time. Except for Ashlyn Stewart asking a few probing questions that Lillian would answer with sound bites, dinner with the Jacksons would be exactly how it had always been. They’d eat a catered dinner. Eleanor would praise Lillian for being iconic or something like that, but Eleanor would joke with Kia and Uncle Carl. Wouldn’t it be nice if, just once, Eleanor took a motherly interest in something other than Lillian’s career?

When Lillian arrived, Eleanor ushered Lillian into the living room. Presumably, the woman setting up a camera was the documentary’s director, Ashlyn Stewart. From the corner, the bust of Socrates watched her critically.

“Would you like anything, Lillian? Water? Sherry?” Eleanor asked.

I grew up here. I know where the water is.Lillian didn’t say it.

“Your mother is lovely,” Ashlyn said when Eleanor had left.

Ashlyn was wearing ripped jeans and a Cat Power T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She wore a collection of rubber bracelets that looked like shredded tires from some bygone eighties punk era. Izzy would appreciate the outfit.

Ashlyn brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Thank you for doing this. I just have to set up a light box here and pull the curtains, and we can get going.”

Ashlyn had a pleasant, laid-back confidence. She gestured to the sofa.

“I understand you didn’t want to do this.” She held her fingers up in a square, capturing Lillian’s face, then moved her camera a fraction of an inch. “You don’t have to.”

“I owe it to my mother.”

Ashlyn looked at her with a gently questioning expression.

Lillian sat very straight, a perfect ballerina’s posture.

“We can talk about that in the interview,” Ashlyn said. “And anything you say that you don’t want to be in the film, just let me know. I’ll show you the transcript. I won’t include anything you don’t want.”

“Don’t documentarians want to expose the truth?”

“I do.” Ashlyn pulled a rubber band off her wrist and knotted her hair up some more. “But not at the expense of the people who’ve agreed to share their lives with me. This is art.” She hovered her hand over her camera. “This is history. It’s important. But your real life is worth more than art.”

“Eleanor would never say that.”

“Let’s talk about it. Ready?” Ashlyn asked.

Lillian nodded. Ashlyn touched something, and a red light appeared on the front of the camera.

“Can you tell me about this bust of Socrates?”

The non sequitur must have been a way to set people at ease… or catch them off guard.

“I feel like it should be Janet Collins or Alvin Ailey. If you can’t get a famous Black dancer bust, maybe MLK. I don’t know why Socrates.”

“Have you asked your parents?”

Had her parents discussed it? Which Greek figure would you like to go in the room we never use?

“Seems rude. They can decorate their house however they like.”

“What made you fall in love with dance?”

Was love the right word now? Was it drive? Obsession?

“I think it’s in my DNA. Like how birds fly south in the winter. Their whole body, being, soul is meant to do this thing. That’s how I felt as a kid. Then I realized I was really good. And then I wanted to win.”

“How old were you when you decided you wanted to win?”

“About seven.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Maybe it was a little extra.”

Ashlyn chuckled.

“Did you have a happy childhood?”

“My mother didn’t force me to dance, if that’s what you mean. But once I said I wanted to be a professional, she took me seriously, and you have to work hard if you want to be a professional dancer. The younger you start, the better. I missed out on some kid stuff.”

“Like what?”

“I’ve never built anything with Legos. Never had a big birthday party. Never played video games. Never been to a water park. It’s a long list.”

When was the last time you walked in the rain?

“Your mother says you made a lot of sacrifices for ballet. Do you regret any of them?”

“I’m glad I didn’t give up my career for Legos.”

Ashlyn nodded at the joke.

“I do and I don’t regret it,” Lillian said. “That’s how life is, right? Every time we choose something, we give up something else.” Like a beautiful, blue-haired woman flying kites at the beach. “But… first you give up Legos. That doesn’t matter. Then you give up riding a bike, having a pet, going out with friends. Then dating.”

She saw Izzy unzipping her sweatshirt, felt Izzy’s arms around her as they waltzed. When she finally saw Izzy again, she’d tell her about the interview, spelling out all her conflicting feelings. Izzy would listen. Then Lillian would tell her about Socrates and Eleanor’s forest of orchids. They’d laugh. Izzy would understand how Lillian could love her family but also want something to disrupt the family status quo, some disruption to shake up the way things had always been. Maybe they’d lose the show and that would be the disruption. But no… that’d just send her down a different fork on the same path. If you wanted to change your life, you had to be your own disruption.

“If you want to keep being the best, you have to keep giving stuff up.”

“Are you dating anyone?” Ashlyn asked.

Ashlyn was known for her use of silence to, as the critics said, reveal truths behind the words people speak. This would be one of those silences.

“Um.” Lillian swallowed. “It’s complicated.” Was it? “There’s someone I care about a lot. She’d take me to the water park if I asked.” Or walk in the rain or fly kites or make love or waltz.

“Would she build Legos with you?”

Lillian hadn’t expected Ashlyn to tease. She’d expected her to be a cinematic version of a stern dance master.

“I think she’d build the hell out of some Legos with me if I wanted that.”

Ashlyn would capture the smile that spread across Lillian’s face at the thought of Izzy sitting on the floor surrounded by Legos.

“Are you still as passionate about ballet as you’ve always been?” Ashlyn asked.

“Yes, of course.” Lillian reined in her smile and tried to remember the party line. What was it? I love being an icon? I wouldn’t change a thing? She folded herself into the lotus position on her chair and wrapped her arms around herself. On-screen, she’d look anxious. Maybe that was okay. What she was about to say did make her anxious. “I’m still passionate about ballet, and I don’t know who I’d be if I wasn’t a professional dancer. But I think I might be ready for something new.”