Page 12 of On Dancer
“Absolutely.” Alexander gave a charming smile before pulling on his coat and following me to the parking lot on the side of the building. “Thank you for that rescue.”
“No problem. I know the grandkid pressure well.” I unlocked my car, a smaller compact that got decent mileage. Waylon had cut me a deal when I graduated from college. He and Shannon needed something bigger for the kids, and I’d needed anything more reliable than the ancient Civic I’d kept on life support all through college. As Alexander got settled, I cranked the heater to high. “My nieces and nephews are wonderful, but my mom seems to think everyone needs to follow Waylon and Shannon’s lead on repopulating Hollyberry.”
“Exactly.” Alexander shot me a commiserating look that went a long way to easing my awkwardness over having him in my car.
He’d been far friendlier toward me since the other night when we’d played the board game, but I continued to feel weirdly nervous around him. If anything, playing my favorite game with him had only made me that much more jittery. It was one thing to suffer a crush from afar, and another entirely toenjoy spending time with him and to have him riding next to me in my car.
Alexander, however, had no such issues as he kept on chatting as he buckled up. “It’s gotten to the point where I never mention dating to my mother, or else I start getting forwarded wedding planning emails.”
“Does ballet even leave you time to date?” Acting was hardly my strong suit, but I kept my tone casually disinterested. Despite my long-standing crush on the guy, I didn’t know much about his personal life, and curiosity made my pulse speed up.
“Not really. People do it anyway, of course.” Alexander gave a knowing chuckle as I headed out of the parking lot and toward the elementary school, which sat on the other side of the neighborhood of historic houses rimming downtown. “When I was an apprentice in Boston, I had a messy thing with a fellow company member that led to me swearing off dating dancers and Boston both. Then, somehow, after a few years in Seattle, I ended up with amnesia and did the same thing with a choreographer.” He groaned and leaned back in his seat, taking all my hopes that he was gay with him. I hadn’t wanted to assume, but I sure had hoped. I kept my expression neutral, though, as Alexander thumped his head against the headrest. “I’m done for real now though. No dating until retirement.”
“That could be a long wait.” I paused at a stop sign.
Alexander likely meant ballet retirement, not the traditional senior citizen one, but if he followed the typical path set by Tavio and others, he might have another six years in him. That was a long time to be single.
“With any luck.” His voice went clipped as he was undoubtedly thinking about his injury.
“What if you meet the right woman at the wrong time?” I asked to distract both of us.
“Gender isn’t the limiting factor with me.” Alexander dropped the bombshell like more of an aside. However, fresh hope surged through me even as his tone turned more cynical. “There’s no such thing as the right person. Trust me. I’ve been in enough productions that center around the myth of true love. Fairytales are only on the stage.”
“Perhaps on fairytales. But true love exists.” Some of that errant hope colored my voice. “I’ve seen it.”
My parents were going on forty years together, and Alexander’s were as well. And for all I grumbled about Waylon and Shannon, they were stupidly in love.
“And I hope you find it.” All that was missing from Alexander’s patronizing tone was a head pat.
“Thanks.” I pulled into the school parking lot and busied myself finding a visitor parking spot rather than continuing the debate. As we exited the car, the bitter wind whipped across our faces.
“Do we check in with the front office first?” Alexander followed me toward what I hoped were the main doors. The school was an older building that had been added onto over the years in haphazard fashion, resulting in wings reflecting competing architectural trends. The main building was brick with wide concrete steps leading to a bank of heavy doors and a ramp off to one side.
“Yes, we need visitor passes.” I pressed the button for admission, and one of the office support staff let us into the building. After we were issued our shiny orange visitor badges, the same middle-aged woman showed us to the cafeteria. We were greeted by Mr. Davis, a harried guy in his late twenties or so with a cartoon T-shirt of a dog teaching in front of a blackboard, as his and the other third-grade classes trooped in. Our first presentation took double the allotted time with a stunning number of interruptions.
“I revise my earlier statement,” Alexander said in a low voice as we waited for the third graders to exit and the fourth graders to arrive. “This is chaos. Give me all the toddlers.”
“I love the kids’ enthusiasm.” I was used to the interruptions and wiggly kids, but Alexander’s droopy eyes were rather weary for not even ten in the morning.
“That’s one word for it.” He was spared more commentary by the arrival of the fourth graders, who brought even more interruptions and questions.
“Boys can’t be dancers.” A kid with wildly frizzy hair in the front row frowned at the pictures I was sharing of Alexander and other male dancers.
“My paycheck says otherwise.” Alexander was quick with the excellent comeback. He was getting decidedly snippy.
The next time we did a school visit, I’d bring along a coffee and a treat for him, but absent that, I tried my best to smooth things over.
“Anyone can be whatever they’d like,” I said in my most encouraging tone. “Plenty of boys love dancing.”
“It’s fun.” One of the other kids, a girl who seemed to have rubber bands for limbs and an inability to stay seated, leaped up to spin across the cafeteria.
“Addie.” Mr. Davis steered her back to her chair. “Settle down.”
“What’s fun about standing on your tippy-toes?” The boy remained unconvinced.
“Plenty.” Next to me, Alexander went up on one foot, extending the other leg high, much to the delight of the kids. I seized the chance to get us back on track, moving back to my presentation.
“I have pictures of some of the costumes?—”
