UNTITLED Julie Benatar

from The Ivy | #25 | December 2020

by The Ivy

UNTITLED, Julie Benatar

photography

BREAKABLE (II), Lana Swindle

Michael didn’t say anything, only penetrated me with his unreadable stare as I returned to the middle of the floor, where I was positioned for the choreography. “You’re not in the right spot.”

I blinked. Yes, I was. I tilted my head, knowing better than to respond to this statement.

“Correct it, please.”

I had absolutely no idea where I was supposed to be positioned if not the center.

“Standing in the same spot is hardly correcting your position.”

I could feel myself flushing. “Where am I supposed to be?” I asked quietly, timidly. I hated myself for succumbing to his authority.

“You would have known if you were here for the last five minutes.” I swallowed, racking my brain as to where I should have been. The song we were dancing to played in my ears, but I couldn’t be sure of which part we were covering. It was funny. This was wasting more precious minutes of dancing than my time in the bathroom. “I’m sorry,” I said, because it was the only thing I could think of.

“What for?” His tone was cold.

I tilted my head up to meet his gaze. “For using the bathroom.” I could hear the venom in my tone, though I wasn’t sure where it was coming from. Anger wouldn’t accomplish anything right now.

He stared at me for a bit, a small period of time that felt like an eternity. Disrespect wasn’t tolerated, not even with the kindest of teachers, and Michael was clearly on the other end of the spectrum. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen and my heart was pounding. “Get out.”

His tone was quiet, calm, peaceful. Without a trace of anger or cruelty. But the two words made my heart sink, made tears sting my eyes, though I blinked them back. “I-I’m sorry,” I whispered, tripping over my words in an attempt to keep my voice stable.

“I said, get out.”

I stared at the ground for a moment before nodding slowly. I exhaled shakily. “Okay.” My voice was quiet as I made my way away from the dance studio, grabbing my bag and change of clothes. My heart was sinking: I didn’t know what would happen next practice.

Didn’t know if there would be a next practice.