Page 25 of Russian Daddy

“I haven’t skated in twenty years, Mama. I don’t need to break my leg for Christmas,” he replies. He kisses my forehead and the older children giggle. “I’ll be back in time for the show. I promise.”

I watch him exit the auditorium and can’t help but wonder what he’s up to. He’s taken a few trips to the city and had some whispering phone calls lately. I won’t ask him about his work, but I still worry sometimes.

He’s the type of man who won’t let me know if something’s wrong, so I just try to remember how capable he is. Heck, I think he can do anything he puts his mind to.

Dress rehearsal ends and I run home to shower and change before the recital. I have a general dislike for standing on stage in front of all the parents and staff, but I think that’s why Marta put me in charge in the first place. She’s always talking about stepping out of your comfort zone and confronting your insecurities.

Having Torin in the audience will help. I can just stare at him and pretend other people don’t exist. The problem is that when I arrive back at school, I don’t see him anywhere. I go straight into panic mode, thinking about all of the terrible things that might have happened to him. Marta sees the expression on my face and tells me, “He’ll be here. The train was probably delayed.”

The crowd is ushered in and all of the children have taken their places backstage, but Torin’s seat in the front row beside his mother is still empty. The lights dim. I walk to the podium to give the annual welcome address to the parents and look for him one last time, but he still isn’t here. So much for my plan to combat my stage fright.

The audience is wrapping up its round of applause for the lineup of Christmas carols played by the school band, and they’re all looking at me. I open my mouth to speak but hear the auditorium doors open. I can’t hide my smile as I watch Torin barrel down the aisle to take his seat. He’s here. Thank God, he’s here.

When the curtain closes, I say goodbye to my class of toy soldiers, elves, and reindeer and meet Torin by the side of the stage.

“I’m sorry I was late. My errands took a little longer than expected. I made it in time for your opening, though. You looked great up there, little girl.”

“Thank you but I was terrified.”

“Terrified? You stand up in front of these kids every day, don’t you?”

“Sure, but they’re all five. Teenagers and adults are different.”

“Either way, you looked beautiful and professional up there. These people are lucky to have a teacher like you. Trust me, we didn’t have anyone like you when I went to school here. Good thing, though. I would have never graduated. The only thing I would have been concentrating on is your ass.”

I blush and slap his arm. “Are we heading to the city now?”

“We are.” He takes my arm, and we begin walking to the exit.

“We’re going out the front? My car is parked in the teacher's lot.”

“We aren’t taking your car, baby girl.”

“Okay, but…”

“Hush now. It’s a surprise.”

He opens the door for me, and I see the long, white limousine parked against the curb. The parents who are filing out of the school are staring at it too, but Torin pays them no mind. He leads me to the car where the chauffeur opens the door for us.

“This is fancy. What’s the occasion?”

“You put on a great holiday pageant, and I want to celebrate.”

“I don’t know if my performance warranted a limo and driver, though.” I giggle.

“What? You don’t think you’re a star? There isn’t a star in the sky that shines brighter than you.”

“That’s sweet. Thank you.”

“No, thank you for coming out with me tonight.”

He opens a bottle of champagne and pours us each a glass. I sip the sweet, bubbly liquid and look out the window as the scenery changes around us. It’s amazing how quickly the lush snow-covered pines disappear and the concrete landscape takes their place. At least, the city looks cleaner under a layer of freshly fallen snow, and the lights hanging from all of the telephone poles make things look a bit more innocent.

The limo stops in front of a restaurant that looks way out of my price range. Torin squeezes my thigh and says, “We’re here.”

“This place is pretty exclusive, isn’t it? I’ve read about it. It’s like the number one hang-out for celebrities when they’re in town. Don’t you need to make reservations like a year in advance or something crazy like that?”

“It is that place, and yes, most people have to make reservations a year in advance. But darling, I’m not like most people,” Torin answers as he takes my hand and leads me to the door.

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