Page 11 of Wounded Dance
David has just picked up the TV remote when Renata comes back in with a silver tray of mugs.
“David, we have company!” she says.
He makes a big point of sighing and dropping the remote back on the table.
I glance over at Blitz. He is more or less relaxed, the only hint of annoyance in the tightness of his jaw. I wonder if meeting parents is always this difficult or if Blitz’s father is just a hard case. Then I imagine Blitz meetingmyfather, and figure, yes, it’s probably always this rough.
I take a mug from Renata and thank her for it, the first words I’ve said since we sat down.
“I saw the finale, of course,” Renata says as she settles on a tall cushioned chair. “I’m glad Blitz didn’t end up with that Giselle woman.”
“I liked her,” David says. “That girl had spunk.”
I grip my mug with tense fingers.
“Of course you liked her,” Blitz says. “She was a tramp.”
“Benjamin!” his mother says. “Be respectful of ladies.”
“That tramp was no lady,” his father says.
My head is spinning. The family banter tells me a lot about who influenced Blitz the most. I think he was right when he said every nasty thing that got him in trouble on the show came from his father.
“Tell me how you two met,” Renata says. “Was it at your dance school?”
Blitz nudges me. “You tell it, Livia.”
My hands are shaking around the mug, so I set it down. “Well, I was dancing and there aren’t a lot of male instructors there.”
David harrumphs. “See, I told you real men don’t go to dance school.”
“David,” Renata admonishes.
I lace my fingers together, remembering I had enough courage to walk on a live television broadcast, so I could surely tell a grumpy father a story.
“So I was surprised to see Blitz, of course,” I say. “I didn’t know who he was.”
“Really?” Renata asks. “I thought everybody knew Blitz.”
“I don’t watch a lot of television,” I say. “I’d never seen the show.”
“Interesting,” Renata says. “Are you more of a reader?”
“I spent most of my time studying for the SAT,” I say.
“Are you going to college?” she asks.
“Soon. I still have to take the essay portion.” I’m not sure if I should keep talking about this or go back to the story. I hesitate, looking over at Blitz.
“Tell her how you taught me toarabesque,” Blitz says.
“Blitz doesn’t know a lot of ballet,” I say. “So I taught him a few things. Thearabesque.Grand jeté.”
“And the five ballet positions,” Blitz adds.
“So you got to know each other during these lessons?” Renata asks. “How romantic.” She takes a sip from her mug. “So how did Livia end up as a surprise guest on your show?”
“The man who built the academy where I attend took me on a plane to California,” I say. I’m not sure how much to say. I can’t tell her Blitz was planning to sabotage himself. “He is a producer on the show and felt it would make for really good ratings.”
