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23
Shelby
My Saturday afternoon dance class is full of the most adorable little three- and four-year-olds in the world. And thank goodness, too, because after that ridiculous breakfast with Paul that morning, I needed a dose of sunshine to bring me out of my bad mood.
Just like normal, we began the class with a warm-up. I had my girls sit on their dots in two rows of five, and I sat on the floor in front of them. “Okay, girls, we’re going to plant flowers. So stick your feet out straight in front of you and point your toes. Good job. Okay now, walk your fingers down the garden path and touch your toes. Excellent job.”
I waited for a beat so they could stay in the stretch for a moment, then I tapped my toes with my fingers. “Okay, sprinkle the seeds on your toes, pat them into the dirt, and then walk your hands back up the garden path so you’re sitting up nice and tall. Keep those toes pointed, your flowers haven’t gotten their rain and sun yet.”
A few girls tipped their toes back down and I grinned at them. “Good toe point. All right, now raise your hands over your head and curve your arms to make the sun. Excellent. Now lean from side to side like the sun rising and setting. Great job, ladies. Okay, now it’s raining, reach back over to your toes and make it rain with your fingers! Nice work. Okay, sit straight up, and start lifting your toes so your flowers grow. Straight up in the air, girls, great work. Now reach forward and land your fingers on your toes like little bees. Love it.”
After stretching a few more different ways, we were ready to get up and move. When I did so, I caught sight of an impressive bouquet of flowers in the observation room with the parents. Since it wasn’t like we were at a recital or anything, I had a sneaking suspicion that the person hiding behind the flowers wouldn’t be here for one of my students.
Sure enough, Paul peeked out from behind the flowers with a wry smile. I rolled my eyes even as I felt a blush color my cheeks. Turning back to my class, I instructed them to get up and form two lines at the end of the room. I laid a strip of blue fabric across the room, perpendicular to their lines.
“Ladies, I just waved my magic wand and turned you all into beautiful unicorns,” I said, speaking louder over the whimsical piano solo I’d just turned on. “Now I want you to prance to the stream, leap over it—making sure to give me a nice straight leg in the back when you leap—and then prance to the other side. When everyone is finished, do it again. Ready, go.”
I stepped back so the first pair of girls could set on their path across the room, complimenting their leaps and straight legs, then doing the same for the rest of the girls. Every so often, I’d turn back toward the observation window, my stomach fluttering every time I made eye contact with Paul.
He’d infuriated me this morning. Yes, I understood his point. I really, truly did. But that didn’t mean I wanted to call Paige Walker to tell her that I couldn’t come because my overprotective boyfriend didn’t think it was a good idea. And besides, he knew I wanted to be able to make decisions for myself. I’d been told what I could and couldn’t do by my parents and doctors since the beginning. He knew that. So why would he think I’d want him to tell me what to do in this case? I was an adult, and I knew the risks of going. And for once, I wanted to take the risk so I could get the reward.
All of that being said, seeing him sitting there now, flowers from Ms. Hattie’s shop in hand, I couldn’t help but melt. And oddly, his attempt to fix things made me want to apologize, too. I had a sneaking suspicion we both maybe could have handled that conversation better. And maybe I should have run it by him before I told her yes. I’m betting that’s what people in committed relationships do. It was hard to get used to since this was all so new to me.
When the girls finished prancing over the stream made of fabric, we did a few other fun things before concluding with their favorite—the butterfly catcher. They all sat in a circle and put the soles of their feet together in front of them, holding their ankles, and flapping their bent knees like butterfly wings. When I came by with my butterfly net and attempted to catch them, they had to duck their heads to their toes and hide.
This routine always resulted in fits of giggles and was a favorite of the parents. They loved to see their girls having fun and squealing with laughter. Today, however, I only noticed Paul. He watched me with a wide grin as I danced around the room, twirling and swishing the net over the little heads. I lifted onto my toe for a pirouette, and maybe put a little more flair into it than normal, showing off just a tiny bit. It was fine, the girls loved it, too. They all wanted to be ballerinas like me when they grew up, which gave me a slight twinge of regret when I thought about their concept of that at this age. If they only knew.
As the girls filed out of the room at the end of class, Paul hung back, leaning against the wall with the massive bouquet in hand. After my students and their parents had finally cleared out, he stepped into my studio and closed the door behind him.
“Hi,” I said, a shy smile on my face. I adjusted the band of the sheer skirt I wore over my leotard and tights.
“Hi,” he replied, stepping closer. “These are for you. I’m sorry about before.”
I took the bouquet from his arms, feeling like I was the one at a recital, holding them against me while wearing ballet attire. I stepped closer, lifting onto my toes to give him a brief kiss. “Thanks.”
He stepped back and gestured to the floor where the girls had been practicing. “That was really cute. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” Even after the way we’d left things earlier, he had so much love, so much yearning in his eyes that I couldn’t help but want to tease him.
“You weren’t too… I don’t know…worriedabout me?”
A laugh bubbled out of him as he let his head drop back. “Fine, maybe I deserved that.”
I sighed. “I probably could have asked you what you thought before I said yes, though.”
“You could have, yeah. I probably would have appreciated that. But I still would have had a problem with you going.”
“And I still would have wanted to go anyway.”
Silence came over us, and then he stepped forward, sliding a hand onto my waist and tugging me against him. “I think that’s okay.”
“What is?”
“I think it’s okay that I don’t want you to go. And it’s okay if you go anyway.”
I nodded, processing that. “So you’re saying I can still live my life, even though it scares you. And you’re still going to default to overprotective, even when it annoys me. And we’re going to be just fine?”
