Page 34 of Forbidden Dance
“Your hair sure looks pretty,” Mom says, and I lift my hand to it self-consciously. I’ve plaited a single braid around my crown. The rest flows black and shiny to my shoulders.
“Thanks. Just trying something new.”
“What’s the bag for?”
“Today is the day at Dreamcatcher when all the staff and helpers unearth all the holiday decorations from the storage room. It’s a big job and Danika will have lunch for us brought in.”
Mom frowns. “I don’t remember this from last year,” she says.
I’m ready for this. “I wasn’t assisting with the wheelchair class last year.”
She nods. “Well, I guess that is okay.” She glances out the back window at Andy digging in the sandbox. “He’ll miss you today.”
“He’ll be fine,” I say. “Have you thought about enrolling him in school? I think he’s lonely.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not ready to let him go yet.”
I don’t get why. He’s only eight. And it’s not like he can get pregnant. But now is not the time to get into this argument.
“I’ll see you later this afternoon. I’ll be home way before Dad.”
“Make sure of it,” she says.
I wave and head for the front door. As soon as I’m a block away, I want to start skipping. I’m out! I’m going on a date!
It’s only 10:45. I’m early so I can duck into the public bathroom to shed the outer layer of my clothes and change shoes. I have a panicky moment, picturing myself going home and forgetting to put the sweatpants back on. But I can’t make that mistake. I won’t.
When I get to the park, it’s mostly empty, just a few moms and small children. It’s not a popular place, rundown and in dire need of new equipment.
The trees shed leaves on my path as I head toward the bathroom. The weather still hasn’t broken for autumn yet, although it’s cooler than the ninety degrees of summer. The walk is bright and pleasant, the sort of day when anything seems possible.
The inside of this outdoor bathroom is about as romantic as a sewer tank. I wrinkle my nose and quickly remove the sweatpants and T-shirt, carefully rolling them so they won’t look oddly scrunched when I wear them later.
Then I switch shoes. There’s no mirror here, but I doubt I look any different than I did at home. Simple, a little plain, no makeup, but with a pretty hairstyle, like a princess. He calls me that. I have no idea why. I should hate it. A lot of people would find it condescending.
But I can’t. It makes me think of us dancing across a ballroom, him in a uniform and me in a ball gown, finding that happily ever after.
I’m such a wreck! Reality, Livia!
My bag is packed. I check my watch as I exit the bathroom. Straight-up eleven. He’ll be here before long, however much time it takes him to extricate himself from the grandmas and put his shirt back on.
The thought makes me laugh. At times like this, I still struggle to align the man I’ve gotten to know with the larger-than-life personality of his show. It’s as if there are two people — Blitz from television, and Benjamin the charmer.
I walk along the path to a bench near the street, so he can spot me easily.
I know intellectually that Blitz and Benjamin are the same person. And in the footage I saw with Mindy over the weekend, him with all those different sophisticated women on his arm, the two versions definitely collided.
But none of that is what he is like at the dance academy. He shies away from the women who come on too strong. He delights in the children.
He worries about me.Me.A plain naive girl who can barelypirouetteand hasn’t earned her toe shoes.
But maybe I am more than that. There’s this power in me now, the strength and determination I once felt, before my family hid me in shame. I am a survivor. I can be brave. I can reach for what I want.
I can love someone again.
The crunch of leaves makes my head pop up expectantly. It’s just an elderly man walking his dog. He nods at me.
I sit on the bench, looking up the sidewalk. There is a car coming down the street. The fanciest car I’ve seen in my life. Cherry red. Sleek. The hood is low and long. It looks like it could scoop you up and sweep you away all on its own.
