As Act I played on, I kept glancing at him. Colleen and the Wilis wouldn’t be on until Act II, and I was afraid he might be bored by all the peasant dancing, but his eyes were alert and following the action. After Giselle went mad and died after finding out Albrecht was engaged to someone else, the lights went up for intermission. Before I could ask what he thought, Jude started talking about what a jerk Albrecht was. “So he comes to this village and lies to Giselle about who he is and the fact that he’s engaged. What did he think was going to happen?”

“He wasn’t thinking that far ahead,” I said, tucking in my legs so a couple could get to the aisle. “He didn’t expect to fall in love with her, but he did, and then he was in over his head, and he couldn’t stop it before it all came crashing down.”

Jude sighed. “True. But I still completely blame him for everything that happened.” He gestured to the part of the stage where Giselle had died. “Just because he fell in love doesn’t mean he gets a pass. Falling in love with Giselle should have made him be like, ‘All right, I need to step back and figure my shit out before this goes any further.’ Right?”

As Jude and I passionately debated my favorite ballet, it felt like someone was stabbing me in the heart. Why couldn’t he hate it? Why couldn’t he have said “Yeah, it’s cool” and then looked at his phone? Because that wasn’t Jude, and that was the whole problem.

I was relieved when the lights dimmed and the curtain parted for Act II. The set was totally different—an eerily beautiful graveyard with fog rolling in from the wings.

The strings played a haunting melody, and Colleen as Myrtha bourréed across the stage. Her feet moved swiftly, but her upper body was so still that she truly looked like a spirit floating across the fog. The audience gasped, and I heard Jude whisper, “Jesus.” I felt a squeeze of pride.

Colleen had the audience by the throat. She was serene and ethereal as she penchéd, promenaded in arabesque, and summoned the other Wilis. She was fierce as she led the charge against Albrecht. I found myself inching forward in my seat even though I’d seen the ballet hundreds of times. A fascinating combination of power and grace infused every turn of Colleen’s head, radiated from her fingertips. I felt it in my own body, and I marveled at how this almost-two-hundred-year-old ballet could feel so alive and real and right now.

When Giselle stalled for long enough to save Albrecht, and Myrtha and the Wilis faded into the sunrise, I wanted them to come back. I wanted them to dance for a while longer.