Attainable

Attainable

Dance Practice

Frederikk is a traumatized woman in her early thirties. She spends many of her days and nights practicing dance in her ballet studio. She’s been working on a new choreography project for the past several months, where she appears as the protagonist in her own play. It is a lovers’ tale called “I wish love could be attainable”. 

I paused after she shared the title and asked: “When you say the word ‘attainable’—are you saying it’s almost there or you could almost feel it?”

Frederikk answers: “It is pretty much impossible for a girl like me to have any real form of love in my life right now”.

I was left bewildered by her answer, paused, and allowed Frederikk to finish practicing her routine. When she took another break, she stopped and walked over to the area where I was sitting in the dance studio. She sips water from her bottle and asks me if I want to hear the remainder of the story about ‘attainable’.

I answer: “Of course, whatever you are comfortable sharing with me. I’m all ears.”

Frederikk sits down next to me, and she looks down at her water bottle. I recognized this pose. It was a stark contrast to her normal demeanor when we usually meet up. Oftentimes, Frederikk is smiling, cheerfully, whilst carrying on this aura that attracts all kinds of people like nectar for a swarm of bees. Her presence commands attention. 

She takes a deep breath and looks up to the ceiling, then pauses. She looks down at her hands again and begins fidgeting with the water bottle. 

The Routine and Flashbacks

“I’ve had a very bad thing happen to me when I was younger”, Frederikk begins to tell me. 

“I was in my second year at Juilliard when it all began. I was sought out by a predator who came to one of my performances. When the performance was over, I arrived backstage and noticed there was a man whom I hadn’t seen before. He was good-looking, peculiar, and knew several of the other dancers. Sonia signaled for me to go over there, where the group was gathered.”

“Frederikk! You must come and see this!”

“I walked over, and she introduced me to the mysterious man wearing a black trenchcoat. He wore glasses with a thick black frame that were very wide.”

“Frederikk, this is Freddy! I thought you two should meet. You have wonderful matching names.”

“Oh dear- that’s what I thought at the time. It was quite embarrassing. I didn’t know what type of joke this was or if it was a mere coincidence. I went along with the laughs. Freddy was a charming and nice-looking man. He told me he was a singer and played piano. That piqued my interest.”

“What felt like five minutes ended up turning into two hours of conversation. The crowd slowly dimmed away, and by the time he asked me if I had anything to eat, I looked around and noticed everyone was gone, except for the backstage crew who were wrapping up, and the cleaners were sweeping. It was very quiet. I looked at my watch and realized the show ended hours ago.”

Freddy began to laugh and said, “Let’s get out of here and go somewhere that’s quiet so we can chat some more”. 

“I agreed to go, asked Freddy to wait a few minutes while I changed into my clothes. I came back a few minutes later, and we exited the theatre and walked a few blocks in the neighborhood until we found a quaint French Bistro that served traditional French fare. Freddy opened the door, and we went inside. He asked the host if we could get a table that was in a quiet area.”

“He answered: ‘Sir, every table here is in a quiet area.’ I looked around the restaurant, and he was right. The place was nearly empty! It was nearly half past nine, and most restaurants in this neighborhood close by ten. I felt rushed and told Freddy we could find another place if they’re closing soon.”

“The host said: ‘Do not worry, miss. We are open until 2:00 am every night. There’s a special bistro menu for late nighters.”

Without feeling further rushed, Frederikk relaxed into a calm demeanor, and both were escorted to the quaint little quiet table in a corner. 

“We ordered drinks, champagne, and a small plate of charcuterie with cheese and a variety of breads. Freddy leaned over and began to touch the rim of his champagne glass with his finger and said: ‘I was immediately drawn to you,u Frederikk. You have this aura that most people do not have. It felt magnetic. The minute you walked into the room, I felt a difference and energy shift.’

Frederikk laughed and said: “I felt the opposite when I first saw you. I was skeptical and didn’t know if I should walk over, then Sonia called me so loudly.”

We both laughed. 

“Frederikk, I’m not here just coincidentally. I already knew who you were for a while. Sonia told me stories about what happened to you in the….”

Frederikk stops him and places her hand over his lips. “You don’t have to repeat it. I rather you not say it. I can’t talk about this right now.”

“No, no…wait Frederikk – it’s okay, the reason why I am bringing this up is that I want to help you. I think I can do that.”

Frederikk looked puzzled, uncomfortable, and had mixed emotions. 

She said: “There's no amount of money that can fix someone like me, after what happened. Can we just enjoy our champagne and talk about something that is lighter? This topic is too heavy and I just met you.”

Freddy continued and said: “but we met so long ago.”

Frederikk paused and looked at Freddy. She was profoundly confused. Freddy takes off his glasses and looks directly into Frederikk’s eyes. She pauses and stares. 

“Have we met before?”

“Yes – we have, many times. We almost got married. I know you don’t want to remember it – because it was so painful to say goodbye the way we had to.”

At this stage in the story, Frederikk is confused. She is wondering if Freddy is the same man from her traumatic memories. She begins to feel fractured, and her head feels shattered. 

“Stop it – I need to take a break. I must pause you here.”

Frederikk reaches into her purse and takes out a bottle of pills. She swallows one of the pills after chewing it for a minute and continues to breathe in and out heavily. 

Freddy asks her: “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I just…” stuttering, Frederikk says: “I was having a panic attack”.

“I’m so sorry I brought this up. I didn’t mean to trigger you. I’ll be more careful. I just wanted to help, that’s all.”

Mirroring

Frederikk stops in the middle of telling me this story. She opens her water bottle and takes a big gulp. Her normal self re-emerges, and she stands up. 

“I think break time is over. I’ll tell you the rest of the ‘attainable ‘story when I’m finished practicing my routine this afternoon.”

I patiently waited all day until she finished. But for me, watching her movements and being in the atmosphere of the creativity expressed through human form and movement was cathartic and calming. Frederikk didn’t have to tell me too much at all; I recognized all the symptoms of trauma. Whatever it is that she wanted to tell me or not tell me, I understood the fine lines. I express my own grief and sentiments visually using clay, paint, and other mediums, while she expresses it through motion. 

After Frederikk finished her routine, we went for a coffee around the block, down the street from the dance studio. 

She said to me: “I do not know if I will ever be able to love again, the way I wanted to love when I was young and innocent. That experience has changed my life, the way I see things. I don’t let too many people in. I’m too judgmental. I have a lot of emotional baggage”.

I asked: “Do you still believe in it? That you could love, maybe in other ways?”

Frederikk stared at me with widened, sad eyes. She answered: “Yes. It’s a dream. And I wish for it to be attainable someday. I’ve just had no luck at all”. 

I mirror her sadness and tell her: “It’s real. It’s there. It will come to you when you are ready.”