Page 97 of Forbidden Dance
Epilogue
Blitz and I stand in the wings of the recital stage as the girls wheel out into the light. As soon as they appear, the audience claps for them.
Janel hurries down the steps so she can cue them from the floor. I hold Blitz’s hand as the sound tech starts the music.
Gabriella is near the end, and my eyes are on her as the girls go through their Nutcracker dance. It’s definitely not flawless, as Daisy in particular gets stage fright and forgets half her turns.
But it’s adorable and emotional, and I wipe tears from my eyes as they finish the song and take their bows.
“We’ll get them in tip-top shape for the spring recital,” Blitz says. “Now that they have a performance under their belt, they’ll be old pros.”
We step aside as the girls wheel off the stage. Blitz gives each of them a high five.
“I still think Gabriella is the spitting image of you,” Blitz says. “She must have taken after her father, because she looks nothing like Gwen.”
I hesitate, thinking it is time to tell him, but we’re so close to all the others. I can’t do it here. They might overhear.
We follow the girls through the path made through the storage room since there isn’t a ramp down from the stage. We let them get ahead, walking slowly through one of our favorite spaces. As we pass the racks, Blitz picks up the top hat from our first time together and places it on his head.
“You haven’t changed one bit,” I tell him, and bump it so it tilts sideways.
He gathers me in his arms and kisses me thoroughly. I giggle and take his hat, placing it on my own head, then back on the rack.
We wander down the studio hall. Each room is a staging area for the classes, and the whole place is crazy with excitement and nervousness. Blitz threads his fingers through mine as we skirt around kids getting their costumes straightened or lipstick applied.
Jacob sees us and nods, trying to tighten a hat string beneath the chin of one of his jazz students.
The foyer is quiet. I’ve already done my performance, so we don’t have to stay. Still, we linger by the front desk, looking over the programs laid there for the latecomers.
“I’m sorry your parents didn’t come,” Blitz says.
I shrug. “I didn’t expect them to.” When we got back from LA last week, I went by my house. My father refused to open the door.
Mom came out the back and walked around. She hugged me and told me to give him some time. She asked if I was already pregnant.
I said no.
Blitz got out of his car and stood next to it, waiting to see if I wanted him to come forward.
My mom asked, “Is that him?” and I told her it was.
“He must have money,” she said, and then she went inside the house.
I waited a little longer to see if they would come out again, but they didn’t. The curtain moved, and I saw Andy wave at me. I blew him a kiss.
I would give them time, like she asked. Hopefully one day they would come around.
Some of the girls from our class wheel out and head across the foyer to go watch the other recitals. After a minute, Gwen appears with Gabriella. I lean down to give her a hug. “You did great,” I say.
They go out the front doors and I stare wistfully at them as Gabriella zooms down the outside ramp. How I wish things were different.
When the foyer is quiet again, Blitz puts his arm around me. “So, how do you know her? I mean, you set the class up just so she could come.”
I glance around. There’s no one near.
I close my eyes and gather my courage.
“Blitz, she’s my daughter. I had her when I was fifteen, and my parents made me give her up for adoption. She doesn’t know I’m her mother.”
