Anna Pavlova

The air is warm when I step into the garden. A tentative summer splays out before me – jasmine and honeysuckle and freshly-cut grass, damp concrete, soil, and salt. 

  I bundle up my dress, holding it off the ground as I tenderly make my way down the concrete stairs. 

“Hello, my darlings!” I call out through a smile, glancing down at the birds in between steps. 

Soft, affectionate honks float through the air. 

As I reach the lake, I feel around in my basket and produce a handful of peas and sweetcorn before gently tossing the feed into the water, watching the muscled bodies of the swans ripple through the green. 

I kneel at the concrete ledge, the metal clasps of my heels digging into my thighs, and coo softly at them. My fingertips trail the water’s surface and the cold sends tingles up my arms. 

I splash the water on my face and rub my eyes, smearing thick mascara goop across my eyelids. I slowly blink them open, and when I do, Jack is staring curiously back at me. 

I grin, reaching out to trace the black markings around his eyes. He leans into my touch. 

“Look,” I point to my own smoky eyes, “we’re the same!”

He throws his head back and makes a gurgling sound from the back of his throat. I splash him playfully with water as he glides away, honking as he goes.

I sit back on the hot concrete. Beads of water drip onto my chest and arms as goosebumps prickle my skin in spite of the evening’s warmth. I untie my ribbon from my neck and unbuckle my heels, slipping them off and placing them neatly beside me. My bare toes wriggle in the air as I inspect my chipped red polish. I feel myself spread across the garden, opening up like a flower, filling every crack of every line of every leaf of every tree. I breathe in. Everything is still.

The sun sits low in the sky, shimmering quietly atop the lake’s surface and painting the huge white birds a creamy butter yellow. They circle in front of me, and through bleary eyes I gaze at them twirling and gliding through the water as they whisper and chirp pleasantly to each other. I watch their infinitely long necks bow into each other’s, forming temporary love-hearts as they play.  

Vignettes flash behind my eyes as I observe, and I sit quietly with the memories.

After a moment, I stand. I feel their eyes on me as I begin to hum along to a sonata not playing, smoothing down my hair and wiping my eyes. I drift over to the grass, my bare feet tingling on the blades. I float my arms above my head and let my eyes fall shut. My shoulderblades contract and pulse; my ribcage grows twice the size.  My eyebrows lift slightly – every cell in my body reaches for the sky.

And I begin to dance.