Mina, my ballerina

Kamini Mirchandani   |  Sun, 09/07/2008 9:46 AM  |  Bookmark

She stood there with one leg bent backwards, both hands stretched forward and then meeting to form an inverted umbrella. Her frills and shrills still bouncing, she twisted and twirled around the copper-colored floor, swirling with the whirling spotlights -- shades of jade, gold and pearl -- to complement her curls, and then stopping at one spot.

My eyes fell still, droopy. There she was, looking at me with her face so dreary. Was she not happy? I wondered. As I was about to welcome her to my dreamland, a roar of applause echoed around the hall bringing me back to reality, and then she vanished, with "Beethoven" falling silent.

"Jake, I can't stand this anymore. I have to meet her!" I cried, pushing against the grumpy crowd.

"You are living in a dreamworld. She will never fall for you! Even if you did say hello, what's it going to bring you?" Jake chuckled, pulling up his plaid collar. He went on, "You see, my wife, Margie, is a classic example of a girl you should go after."

"Easy for you to say, she's your wife! Don't forget how you managed to get her to utter Y-E-S!" I muttered.

"Let's not get into that! Have a great Saturday night! I'll see you on Monday," Jake winked.

The dark of the night seemed inviting, luring my senses into seeking solace under the starry sky. The sound of the waves crashing into bubbly foam glistening against my toes punched a hole into the depths of my soul. Mina, Mina, Mina, was all I could call.

Dusting powder-white sand off my knees, I picked up my shoes, ready to call it a night, when out of nowhere I heard a girl whimpering. The darkness whispered "help" into my ears, sending tingles down my spine. There was a moment of reluctance as I followed the sound.

I caught a glimpse of a girl, or should I say a woman, huddled in a puddle. How could she have formed that pool without me noticing, I wondered. "Hello?" My voice cracked. The vision I was about to see I knew was extraordinary, for she was someone I had seen before. She was, in fact, Mina, Mina, my ballerina.

She turned her head, tilting in such a peculiar manner, as if she spoke to me without the need for words. She was distraught. Her eyes were puffy, dripping raven blue mascara onto her satin white cheeks. The pink on her face was gone, and she was pale and devastated. She did not speak.

Thinking a man should act like a man, I picked her up and carried her like a groom would his bride. Her arms hung loose, swinging left and right as I plodded and kicked the murky ground. We seemed to sink everytime we advanced another step. "Help" she went. "Help me" she went again, and that was all that she said.

I took her back to my apartment, which seemed brighter that night. Nothing was different except my Mina, Mina, my ballerina. "Don't leave me, don't let go," she cried. "I won't go anywhere. I'll be right here," I reassured her, my mind floating as I sniffed an unusual scent coming from her hair. "What is that sweet smell?" I looked back to find her asleep.

Shutting the lights in my own bedroom, I thought Mina would be well soon. I was in stage one of my dream, this time without Mina, since yes, Mina was with me in reality. Gentleman that I am, I snuggled on the couch, cuddling my oversized "blankey" to the deepest stages of my subconsciousness when suddenly the lights in my room, the room where Mina was resting, flickered on and off, on and off, on and off.

My clock said 12. Was Mina awake? The door creaked open a little, Mina only partly visible through the narrow opening. "Mina, come here. Would you like to eat something?" There was no reply, only a part of a figure. I saw her eye glaring right at me, never blinking. For a moment, I thought how lucky am I. She wants me?

She came out, looking all fresh and friendly. "Thank you for helping me. Could you get me a taxi?" She smiled, her teeth perfect white, lips luscious red, waiting to be devoured. "It's too late to leave. Please stay to be safe," I said.

The next few hours were heavenly, an ambrosial scene for me. Mina was lying on my lap, her dark sapphire eyes staring at me and right through me. "Are you ok?" I queried, brushing my fingers through her silky shiny locks, feeling her porcelain smooth forehead. "Yes. I just never thought I'd meet such a nice lad in this day and age," she murmured, raising herself to get close to my ears. I closed my eyes, taking in the resplendence of the moment when a blaring wail of anguish permeated across the room!

"What's wrong, Mina?!" I jumped, squatting on my couch. "Don't touch me! Who are you? No! Who am I?! Where am I?!" she howled in the hollow room.

"You are Mina, Mina my ballerina! Get a hold of yourself, my dear! I'm here to help! I won't hurt you!" I croaked, clutching the throw pillow behind me with my quivering hands.

Mina was on the floor with her arms crossed on her chest, hands pressing on her shoulders. "Do you have Beethoven, my lord?" Within a minute, Beethoven's melodious symphony resonated everywhere giving me an elevated feeling.

There stood Mina, Mina my ballerina, spinning and stopping against the shadows cast upon by headlights of the bustling night life. "I love you, Mina" were words that escaped from my mouth. Right then, the hole in my soul replenished, filling me with elation.

She danced for me, gyrating in rhythmic harmony. Lifting herself up, like a bird free at last, she was as if in a trance, never stopping, capturing my essence, my soul. "Always dance for me, Mina, Mina my ballerina," I mumbled, shedding a tear, "I shall be ruptured if you will not." All turned black.

The buzzing of the door woke me from a place I had never been. For a moment, I thought it was all a dream. But then there was Mina's fragrance, in me and all around me. I opened the door to find nothing but a box on the floor. Picking it up, I recognized the circles and shades of jade, gold and pearl.

"Mina, are you here?" No answer. I looked in the bathroom and found a puddle. "She must have showered and gone home. Did I even reveal my name?"

I went back to the box with a card which I opened and read:

My dear

Here is your ballerina, your Mina. She will be here to last, and be with you forever more. It was great knowing you.

Mina

My heart skipped a beat as I pulled the first ribbon off, freeing the contents of the box. There was that strange, familiar sweet-smelling fragrance emanating from the inside. It was a jewelry box and inside it was a ballerina, a perfect ballerina that twirled and swirled, whirling to the music of Beethoven. "Where could she be? My Mina, my ballerina!"

The phone rang. Jake, who was on the other line, did not sound good. "Jake! You won't believe what happened last night!" I cried excitedly. "Carl, Carl, hold it. I think you need to know," Jake said, sounding serious for the first time. "What is it, Jake? What's bothering you?" I said. "Have you seen the news? Mina Merdoucci is dead. She was killed right after the show," Jake whispered.

I gaped in silence, dropping the phone to the floor. "Open up! Open up! Police!" came voices from outside my room. The sweet-smelling fragrance was never to be sniffed again, or was it ever there?

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