Chapter Seven:
Joyce began to think of her first time in Brazil and how she is now, when she stepped onto the vibrant streets of Brazil, her heart racing with excitement mixed with a tinge of sadness. The bright colors of the city pulsated around her, and she felt an adrenaline rush as she settled into this nueva vida (new life). She had initially come here for professional dance training, but the unexpected warmth of companionship made this experience an entirely new journey. It didn't take long before she found herself surrounded by a group of lively individuals, all equally passionate about dance, and these budding friendships began to fill the void that had widened during her time apart from James.
The laughter echoing among her newfound friends, coupled with the rhythm of samba and the graceful movements of ballet, became Joyce's refuge to a point she has less time for calls, charts or even respond to calls , SMS etc. Every evening spent in practice felt like a scene out of a romantic movie, the studio lights casting shadows that danced along with them, mimicking their movements. Alan, a charismatic dancer who possessed a natural charm, became her closest confidant during this time. Joyce was endlessly swept up in the exuberance of the classroom, where she felt free and alive, an escape from the burden of the anxieties that plagued her heart regarding James.
As the months passed, Joyce found herself consumed by her passion for dance, the classes taking precedence over virtually everything else. She would often joke with her friends about how dance had taken over her life, but as her laughter enveloped them in that moment, a small part of her felt like she was abandoning something important-someone important. The phone calls from James grew less frequent, each ringing sound replaced with the tumultuous rhythm of her dance routine and echoes of her friends, filling her life to the brim. She justified her lack of contact with James, attributing it to the demanding schedule of her training that left little room for anything else.
James, on the other hand, felt the desolation of that absence piercing through his heart. The late-night conversations they once shared were now mere memories fading in the distance. As he lay awake each night, he would cradle his phone, staring at the screen as though it contained the answers to his unasked questions. "Why isn't she answering me?" he would think, his mind battling between frustration and understanding.
Eventually, his patience began to wear thin. Each attempt to reach out to Joyce was met with nothing but silence. A million thoughts rushed through his mind; was she purposely avoiding him? Did she meet someone new? Each unanswered call turned into a new layer of worry. James had always admired Joyce's driven spirit, but now her ambition felt more isolating than inspiring. He chastised himself, pushing away the cynical thoughts and trying to focus on the joy their past shared moments brought him. "I shouldn't be demanding; she has her dreams to chase," he would say to himself, the guilt wrapping around him like an icy cloak.
But as a gentle summer breeze can turn into a fierce storm, so too did his feelings evolve. One late night, at approximately 3 o'clock in the morning, his concern spiraled into desperation. After a long string of unanswered calls and texts, he punched Joyce's number into his phone once more, the ring stretching into the void of silence around him. Just as he was about to hang up, he heard a voice he didn't expect-a male voice, playful yet laced with irritation.
"Mr., you're disturbing our sleep." The statement hit him like a slap, ringing in his ears long after the call ended abruptly. Was this some newfound friend of hers? James felt a surge of anger flash through him before it was doused by an overwhelming wave of helplessness. Distrusting flames of jealousy flickered to life, but he quickly suppressed them, burying those emotions deep down. He didn't want to appear possessive; she was an independent woman chasing her dreams, after all.
But that night, something died inside of him. When he finally placed his phone down, he couldn't shake off the feeling of abandonment that filled the empty space in his heart.
Meanwhile, Joyce woke up the next day with an insatiable feeling of something amiss in her life. With Alan by her side, she battled the lingering thoughts of her last conversation with James. Every time her phone buzzed with notifications, her heart raced with hope, only to be met with disappointment. That gnawing sense of loss clung to her, whispering doubts in her ear-was she making the right choices?
Joyce gathered with her friends at the studio that evening, but the vibrant energy she usually exuded appeared dimmed. Alan noticed her detachment and tried coaxing her into the warm embrace of dance, but the rhythm felt alien compared to the vibrant pulse of her memories with James.
"Joyce, what's going on with you?" Alan asked during a break, concern knitted into his brow. "You seem... lost. Was it the phone call from last night?"
She looked at him, her heart leaping with recognition. "You heard that?" She blurted out, her voice laced with anxiety.
"Not exactly. I was in the other room when you were on the phone," Alan admitted, a gentle smile trying to lift the weight of her heart. "It sounded intense. Are you okay?"
Joyce sighed deeply, trying to piece her thoughts together. "I... it's just-James has been calling a lot, but lately, I've been so absorbed in dancing that I haven't gotten back to him. It's like... I've lost a connection that meant a lot to me." Her voice wavered as she spoke, the admission tasting bittersweet on her tongue.
"You need to balance, Joyce. Dance is incredible, but we're also human, and human connections matter," he offered, genuinely concerned for her well-being.
After a long pause, she couldn't help but acknowledge the truth in his words. The emptiness she felt wasn't only creating a chasm in her heart regarding her romance with James, but also her new friendships potentially suffering under the weight of her obsession with dance.
"I should call him," Joyce decided, her heart racing with uncertainty. Was it too late? Did he even want to hear from her after all this time? She retrieved her phone and hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen as she searched for his name, her breath quickening with every heartbeat.
But then something nagged at her-was she ready? What if he had moved on? As those thoughts spiraled in her mind, she decided to push more at the idea of dancing. Surely, it would ease her nerves, But it didn't.
The next few days were menaced by a growing concern. Joyce worked hard to mask her emotions with unfaltering enthusiasm in dance class, but as she twirled and leaped across the wooden floor, she felt heavy, a shadow trailing her every movement. The laughter of her friends, which once filled her with joy, soon fell flat against the drumbeat of her guilt.
As she lay in bed one evening, replaying moments of moments-the laughter shared with James, their late-night chats filled with dreams and hopes-her heart ached for him. She could see the warmth of their past in her mind's eye, the love they nurtured along the way. It was there, lurking just beyond her reach, demanding to be acknowledged.
On a whim, she dialed James's number. The ringing echoed through her room, and each pulse sent an electrifying jolt through her body like a current. She rehearsed what she would say, her heart lodging in her throat. But after the long wait, the call went to voicemail.
"Hey James, it's me... I know I haven't been the greatest communicator lately. I'm really sorry for that. I miss you." She noticed the lump in her throat as her voice broke a little. "Please call me back?"
Almost immediately, she felt hollow again, the silence that followed creating an aching emptiness.
"Ugh!" she sighed, tossing her phone onto her bed in frustration. Alan entered the room, catching the fleeting moment of despair in its entirety.
"Still no response?" he asked gently, the weariness in her eyes giving him insight into her heart.
"No, he hasn't called me back," she said, her voice trembling. "I just miss him. It feels wrong not to communicate..."
"You are a remarkable person, Joyce, but you can't forget that he has feelings too. It's a two-way street," Alan encouraged gently. "Look, why don't we take a break? Let's dance. Let's get back to what makes you happy."
Joyce gave an appreciative smile, grateful for Alan's support. Yet, deep down, the unresolved tension dwelled like a storm cloud, casting shadows over her spirit.
That very evening, as the sun set against the beautiful Brazilian skyline, Joyce found herself staring at the waves crashing upon the shore. She had proposed to her friends to join her for a beach dance session, a mixture of celebration and catharsis. The stillness of the ocean began to soothe her mind, a reminder of everything she had loved in life.
As they danced barefoot on the warm sand, the evening radiated with laughter and carefree joy. The music from their portable speaker drifted through the salty air as if trying to lighten her heart.
But as her friends immersed themselves in the groove, Joyce noticed her gaze lingering elsewhere, the horizon beckoning, mirroring the emptiness she still felt without James by her side.
"Do you ever wonder if you're on the right path?" Alan's voice broke her reverie, his tone serious as he mimicked her reflection in the waves.
"What do you mean?" she asked, curiosity stroking the edges of her concern.
"Well, you've chosen what you love, but sometimes it might feel like you've lost something equally valuable in the process."
She could only nod, the truth she had been trying to avoid tumbling into view. Her heart ached to reconnect; it felt as if the universe itself was signaling her to stop running from the feelings that were screaming to be acknowledged.
"I need to talk to him," Joyce said suddenly, a sense of determination swelled in her chest buoyed by her friends around her. "I need to fix this."
With a newfound sense of urgency, she pulled out her phone, dialing James's number for what felt like the hundredth time. This time, she wouldn't allow self-doubt to redirect her path.
As the call connected, it rang just once before his voice came through, and Joyce felt her heart leap.
"Joyce?" he answered, his tone both surprised and guarded.
"James! I-" she began, but the words became tangled in her throat. She had imagined this moment a hundred times, yet when faced with the reality, her heart faltered. "I'm so sorry for everything. I've been... lost. I miss you."
There was a pause on the line, silence hanging between them like a fragile thread.
"I've missed you too," he finally replied, and with that confession, a crack opened within her heart, allowing both fear and relief to pour into the space.
She took a deep breath, filling her energy with every ounce of courage. "Can we talk? I want to explain everything." "I'd love that," he said.
"Let's talk by 10 pm tonight after you have returned from studio maybe?" she suggested.
Joyce hung up feeling lighter than she had in weeks. There was work to be done, but she was ready to embrace that night talk with James the love of her life.
As they gathered with the group of friends, the rhythm of laughter returned, creating a beautiful melody that punctured through her emotions. In that moment, Joyce realized that she needed both her passion and her connections-a balance of love and dance. The next chapter of her life was waiting to unfold, and though paths diverged, she took a firm step toward a heartfelt reunion, offering the promise of a more vibrant tomorrow.
In a world filled with possibility, Joyce could hear the rhythms in her heart beckoning her to embrace the dance, and once again, allow love to lead the way.