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“Look at you, Miss Smarty-Pants,” I say. “I was always hopeless at Math. Terrible. A disgrace.”
“Well, you don’t need math when you’re a good dancer,” Faith replies.
I smile at her. “No. No, you don’t.”
Diana comes back –storming- into the room in a whirlwind of frantic panic. She jumps in front of us and shows off to us a twirl of her dress.
“How do I look?” she asks breathlessly. “Do I look good? Please answer honestly. I can’t bear to go to the date and realize I’m a disheveled wreck halfway through my first glass of wine.”
I cock my head at Faith. “What do you think?” I ask her. “Do you think your mom looks good?”
Faith nods heartily. “Yep.”
Diana is satisfied. “Good answer. I’m so glad I raised you right, Faith.”
“You look beautiful, Diana,” I say to my friend. “Your date won’t know what hit him.”
“Thank you both,” Diana says to us sitting on the couch as she sprints to the front door. “Now, have fun you guys. But not too much fun. Remember, Faith, it is still a school night, so it is anearlynight. No matter how much fun your Auntie Emma might be, okay?”
“I’ll make sure this little monster is in bed on time,” I say. “Go and enjoy the date. You deserve your own fun, Diana.”
When her mother is safely gone, Faith turns to me with a cheeky smile.
“Can we watch that Swan Lake show online again?” she asks me conspiratorially.
I give her a cheeky smile back.
“Oh, okay then.”
I get my ass off the couch and we watch Swan Lake on my phone. It’s the same performance as the one I once watched at the Penmayne mansion all those years ago - I’ve managed to somehow find it online miraculously in the years since leaving the mansion. Ever since the discovery, I’ve been watching it on a loop, and Faith loves it as well.
When we finish the highlights, Faith takes my hand and guides me to the center of the apartment’s living room.
“Let’s do the dancing,” she says. “Just like the swans in the video.”
“You want me to teach you?” I ask her.
“Yes, please.”
“Okay, let’s do it. Now listen closely...”
I meticulously guide her through the Swan Lake dance I know, twirling the little girl around and demonstrating her the moves until she erupts in fits of giggles. I instruct her just like Irina taught me. I’m serious but playful – Faith deserves that level of respect. I can tell she’s got the knack for this dancing thing; she’s a little natural. Her determination to grasp the choreography reminds me of her at her age.
After a bit of dancing, I go over to my bag and pull out my ballet shoes. Faith watches me as I do so, her eyes going wide when she sees the shoes for the first time. I love that natural passion in her -thatreally reminds me of me.
“These are what I wear to dance properly,” I tell Faith, dangling the old ballet shoes in front of her eyes.
“Did you buy those?” she asks. “They must be so expensive.”
Like me, she hasn’t grown up with much money. She appreciates the value of a single dollar. Like me, she knows nothing in this life comes free.
Like me, she understands the significance of a luxury item like these shoes.
“No, I didn’t buy them,” I reply to the girl. “A close friend got me those. A long time ago, in a different life.”
“Where’s your friend?” she questions. “Can they get me some?”
I let out a soft chuckle. “No, I seriously doubt that. We no longer talk. We’re no longer friends.”
