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But I don’t respond to Emma. I simply turn around to the hallway and the final guest, gesturing her inside.
“Come in, Irina,” I say to Emma’s former dance teacher.
I witness the joy light up on Emma’s face as she sees the Russian for the first time in so many years.
“Irina?”
“Hello, Emma.”
Irina’s strong, hard accent hasn’t changed even after decades in this country. She steps into the dressing room with her poised posture and straight back. No hugs from her, though; despite her happiness at seeing her former student succeeding like this, she is still a strict unemotional citizen of Soviet-era Russia.
And yet she is truly the best guest I’ve invited along today.
“You were in the audience?” Emma asks her, flabbergasted.
“Yes, I was, Emma,” her old dance teacher explains bluntly. “I was sitting in the middle of the auditorium. I knew you wouldn’t see me, but I saw you.”
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Emma whispers. “It’s been so long.”
“You have Doctor Penmayne to thank for that,” Irina replies, glancing back at me. “He brought me along today.”
“I just sent out the invites,” I reply. “That’s all.”
“I once danced here,” Irina remarks, slowly scanning the dressing room with her laser eyes.
“This theatre?” Emma asks.
“Yes,” Irina replies. “But it was a long time ago. It made me feel proud seeing a student of mine on the same stage.”
“I can’t believe it,” Emma mutters. “Pinch me. Today has felt like a dream.”
“You want me to pinch you?” Irina asks. “That would be painful.”
“I think it’s a figure of speech,” I tell her with a smile.
“But I need to hear all about you, Irina,” Emma says. “It’s been so long.”
“Yes, you did just disappear from Crystal River,” the dance teacher says. “I was very confused as to why you suddenly left.”
She glances over at me with a vicious side-eye. I don’t know how Irina has heard that it was my - and my family’s - fault that Emma had to leave the town, but I wouldn’t put it past the strict, smart Russian that she has it all figured out.
“I stopped dancing after all that,” Emma explains. “At least publicly. Today is the first time in front of an audience in years.”
Irina nods knowingly.
“Ah. Yes.”
“How are you?” Emma asks her, now more cheerfully than her talk of the past. “How have you been?”
“Same, same,” Irina replies. “Classes to teach. Students to yell at. Postures to fix. You know how it is.”
Emma stifles a laugh.
“You never change, Irina. And that’s what I love about you.”
“I must tell you something, Emma.”
“What is it?”
