Chapter Text
Chapter 1 - The Beginnings of a Dream
Patrice loved to dance, she started begging to learn how to dance when she saw an old rerun of "Grandes Valores del Tango" at 4 years old. So when she turned 6 years old her mom surprised her by scraping together enough extra tip money to enroll her in her first dance class. “Ms Davies’ Dance class” was a small dance class held two blocks down from Patrice’s school in the namesake, Miss Davies’, garage, but it was also the spark to the fuse that would become Patrice’s passion drive and subsequent skill in dance.
. . .
During Patrice’s 8th winter she had her first solo performance for Ms Davies Dance class. She practiced her routine every day for at least an hour every day after school before dance class for a week until show night. Her mom invited all her neighbors to come see the beginnings of their own local star.
. . .
After Patrice turned ten years old she aged out of Ms. Davies’ Dance class but with Ms. Davies’ help and recommendation letter Patrice was able to get an audition at Manhattan's Dance School for the Youth. She was even able to receive reduced tuition fees based on the requirement that she remain at the head dance of her class. And so she did. She tirelessly worked every day in order to perfect and master choreography faster and better than everyone else. She knew she needed to do this.
. . .
When Patrice was 13 her dance instructor asked her to perform a solo with a song chosen and choreography designed by her. This was no baby class anymore, this performance would be seen by real people in the dance world. For an entire month leading up to the performance Patrice did nothing but sleep, eat, go to school, and most importantly… dance
. . .
At the end of the school year of her freshman year of highschool Patrice’s dance instructor at the time asked Patrice if she would be continuing Dance as a career after highschool, without a second thought Patrice affirmed that she would, that she could see no future where she did anything else. But then came the question that would shape and haunt Patrice for the next 3 years…
“What dance college will you be going to then?”
. . .
Patrice ran to the mailbox and wrenched it open with enough force to make its hinges squeal. She had done this exact thing everyday, as soon as she got home from school, for the past 2 weeks, and so the poor mailbox was threnting to give out at any point. She didn’t care about the wellbeing of the mailbox though as she quickly grabbed its contents and slammed it shut turning her attention to the pile of envelopes now in her hand. She inspected each envelope meticulously. Patrice passed over the letters address to her mom, placing them at the bottom of the stack to give to her later. She barely looked at the letters sent to her from local colleges and their last ditch efforts to sway her to wear their ugly school colors and go to boring football games. By the time she had gotten up to her stoop and opened the front door she had spotted it. The Letter. The envelope that she had been waiting for for 2 weeks now. The envelope which enclosed the truth of whether she would be able to live her dream and become a professional dancer or have her hopes and life’s efforts dashed against the rocks of her own inadequacies.
“Hey sweetie, how was school?” Her mother called from the living room, it was Thursday, so it was her day off before the weekend rush.
“It was good… The letter is here.” for a moment there was silence, and then the creaking of their couch and a few steps, then there stood her mom in the entrance way. Patrice didn’t look at her, in fact she couldn't. She was stuck staring at the envelope, above her own address and name was a school crest and in stylized font was written Juilliard School of Dance. This was it.
“Well come here, let's open it, and no matter the news were going to Mr. G’s. Ice cream to celebrate or ice cream to wallow in our sorrows” The look on her mom’s face was soft but prepared. She believed in her daughter's abilities but she also knew how competitive such a university was. No matter how perfect Patrice was this wasn’t a done deal and both of them knew that. They both walked into the living room-dining room-kitchen and Patrice placed the letter on the central table pressing its corners down as if it would suddenly take flight and leave her with nothing if she wasn’t careful.
“We aren’t going to learn anything with it trapped against the dining table like that, here. Just rip off the bandaid.” She handed Patrice a pocket knife to open the letter with. Patrice took a breath that was not nearly as calming as it was supposed to be and slid the knife in the small part of the envelope that was unsealed and lifted up, slicing open the letter. With shaky hands she pulled the letter out, it was 3 sheets of paper flooded together as to fit in the envelope. Patrice braced herself as she finally unfolded and began to read.
We at the Juilliard School are pleased to congratulate Miss. Patrice Marlow in her acceptance into the Juilliard School of Dance, in orde…
The rest of the letter didn’t matter, at least not right now. She got in. Immediately she hugged her mom as tightly as she could muster.
“I did it! I got in! I’m going to Juliard!”
. . .
Mr. G’s ice cream parlor chimed as the Marlow women walked in, Patrice could not help the grin that beamed on her face, nor the way she was really dancing instead of walking into the shop.
“Well what's got you in such a chipper mood Patty?” Mrs. G chuckled as Patrice twirled up to the counter.
“I did it Mrs. G, I got into Juilliard!”
“Did you hear that Ian? Our Patty got into Juilliard” Mrs G called to the back. And out rushed the ice cream maker himself, with a thin layer of oreo dust on his shirt and caramel making a ring around her wrists where the gloves couldn’t protect him.
“We're so proud of you kid, here order whatever you want today, on the house. It’s a celebration, one of our own is destined for the stars.” He reached his hand out for a hand shake but before Patrice could take it a whirring sound could be heard from the back.
“Oh no, I have to go back or the caramel oreo batch for next week will be ruined, good luck Patty.”
. . .
Patrice ordered a scoop of cookie dough oreo in a waffle cone and her mom ordered a scoop of butter pecan in a cup, and even though Ms. Marlow insisted on paying Mrs. G refused, fully hiding the card reader behind the counter making it clear as day that payment would not be an option. As they brought their scoops outside to catch the last rays of sunlight before the day ended Ms. Marlow asked
“So Juilliard here we come, do you know what you need to do to get everything in order?”
“Yeah I think so I applied for the FAFSA in July last year, I’ll have to wait for Juilliard to send my Financial Aid package but I think I can register for housing before then and then at orientation I’ll register for classes.” I’ll have to actually read the rest of my acceptance letter to make sure I’m not missing anything but it should be pretty clear cut.”
“I can’t believe my baby is going to move out on her own this year, just remember even when you're some big dance star with a million fans and global awards don’t forget you’ll always have a home here.”
“If I don’t remember where I came from, how will I know where I’m going?”
“That’s my girl, and you better reserve me front row seats to every one of your shows for the rest of your life, you got that, sweets?”
“Of course I wouldn’t want to dance without my first and biggest fan watching me.” And so the day that Patrice got The Letter ended.
. . .
The next few months went by in seconds the financial aid package came in the mail, Patrice purchased her room and board package, she went to orientation and registered for classes with the aid of her dance major advisor, then summer let out and she was only 2 and half months from officially being a Juilliard student. Those 2 and a half months were filled with nothing but 50+ hour work weeks, even with the amazing finical aid package she was receiving Patrice had to save a hefty sum in order to be able to even stay afloat next year, there were no fun summer trips with friends, no parties she could pull up to for a night out, she didn’t even have a graduation party that money instead went to the great black hole that was “The College Fund”. But It was worth it because after all her hard work and all the graduation gifts she got from family and friends she successfully saved up $10,000 dollars for school, according to her calculations it would be just enough for her to pay for books, supplies, food, the basics of living, and most importantly her dance equipment for next year. If she played things tight she might even be able to end the year with an extra hundred or so dollars.
. . .
But that was all over cause now she was packing up most of her life into her mom’s old beat up Nissian. She was moving in today.