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“It must be good for business,” I’d joked, slightly uncomfortable with the whole thing. Everything I’d learned in that interview challenged my worldview. It took a while for me to realize she wasn’t kidding.
“I made this place for them,” she said with a bright smile. “I spent a lot time running and hiding, helping them find people who loved them and would take care of them. And when it wasn’t necessary to run anymore, I wanted them to have a safe community of their own.”
I’d left that conversation in a daze, wondering how many gifted people I may know and not even be aware. Regardless, the center got an influx of young children exhibiting extraordinary gifts. Meredith had the ability to sense these gifts. She made sure that we created a safe place for them as well. Thus, the day classes were scheduled.
“All right, my tiny ballerinas,” I call out to the group of girls assembled in front of me.
We decide the best thing to do with this group of preschoolers is to split them up in groups of four. We found that with any more, they would get distracted. So, my four little ballerinas stand in front of me now, hands on hips, as they wait for further instruction.
They’re so much more focused and serious than some of my older students. I’m reminded that this is the perfect age for kids to start taking dance. They have little, sponge-like minds that are perfect for learning all the different dance moves. I walk them through several steps, then let them play a fun game called Freeze Dance. Basically, I let them dance however they like, then stop the music and make them freeze. It helps them get their energy out, and it’s so entertaining to watch.
I’m in good spirits when my preschool classes end. We have the kids in rotation, trying out all the classes with a naptime in between. We’ve been doing this since I started, but it’s a fairly new concept for the center. Meredith keeps a watchful eye on the program to make sure it’s succeeding and not causing too much stress on the kids.
After a quick lunch, I visit her in her office to update her about my preschool classes.
“The three-year-olds are doing a lot better than I expected,” I tell her. She smiles and writes down several notes in a notebook.
“My biggest issue is getting them to not run to the bathroom every five minutes. And when one goes, they all have to go.”
She laughs and nods at this. “I’ve heard the same from the other teachers,” she says while she writes a few more notes. “Apparently potty training is a big deal at normal daycares. Maybe I should bring in a few trained daycare staff to help with that.”
She says this more to herself than to me, so I hum in agreement. Meredith juggles a million things every day. I don’t get surprised when she throws out a random thought. I know it’s not for me to grab, I just watch it as it passes by.
“Otherwise, everything is going well?” she asks, looking up at me. “You’ve been here for three months now. How are you settling in?”
The questions are harmless, but I’m rattled from my experience from the other night. I asked James not to tell anyone, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he blabbed about it to Meredith. I hear no sign of suspicion in her tone, though. She seems genuinely curious.
“It’s going much better than expected,” I admit. “I was nervous at first, but you were right about the kids. They’re so loving and kind.”
She smiles brightly again. A look of adoration crosses her face. She treats each and every child as if they’re her own. I’m aware that she’s known many of them for years. A knock sounds on the door. I look up to see Charlie standing there, waiting apprehensively.
Of all the kids, Charlie is clearly the closest to Meredith. I don’t know the full extent of their history, but I’ve gotten the sense that they’re basically family. Charlie is nearly thirteen and just started puberty. She ran out of my class crying one day because she found a pimple on her cheek. My heart goes out to her. These are the worst years of every young person’s life.
“Hi, Miss Melissa,” she says with a braces-clad smile. “Are we learning that new choreo in hip hop today?”
“We are,” I confirm. “Have you been practicing what I taught you last week?”
As an answer, she shows me the move, and I applaud enthusiastically. It’s a proud moment watching her shine. I look back at Meredith, who looks like she might start crying. She does that a lot where Charlie is concerned.
“Meredith,” she says, turning to my boss. “Can we talk for a sec?”
I take that as my cue to leave and get ready for my beginner ballet class. I look at my watch and see it’s nearly 2:00 PM. My heart drops in my stomach. James will be here in an hour. I’ll stick to my plan and just ignore him. He probably wants to forget the whole thing too.
My students file in. I lead them through stretches, trying very hard not to look at the clock. I put the time out of my mind as I teach the students the basics of ballet. It helps that Daisy projects happiness and calm to the whole class. I’m beyond grateful for her gift in this moment as it helps calm my nerves.
Too soon, though, class comes to an end. I purposely turn away from the glass wall, pretending to work through some choreography. I blast music loudly, letting my body move to the rhythm. I close my eyes as the sound washes over me. It guides my movements. When I create a move I like, I go back and run it again, cleaning it up until it’s perfect. I don’t realize how much time passes until the teens file in for hip hop.
My plan worked perfectly. James will be leaving the center in a few minutes while I’m busy teaching my class. Part of me regrets missing my chance to see him this week, but it’s good for the moving-on process. It’s better for me to quit him cold turkey and pretend that the other night never happened.
When the class ends, I confidently grab my things, grateful I’ve survived the day. Getting over James will get easier as time passes. I’m sure the embarrassment will pass and it won’t be so mortifying to come back into work and worry if he’ll bring up the things I said. I pack my workout bag and walk to the kitchen, filling my water bottle for the drive home. I breathe a sigh of relief and prepare to clock out for the day.
As I’m leaving the kitchen, though, I see Meredith’s office door open. She and James step out. Smiling, she reaches up to hug him, thanking him for his time. I look at my watch and realize he’s been in there for over an hour. Panic grips me as I imagine what they were talking about. I’m afraid it was about my attack. If he tells her what happened, she’ll want to get the police involved. That can’t happen. I back into the kitchen and wait as he walks down the hallway, stepping out the second he passes.
“Hey,” I say as casually as I can muster. So much for avoiding him.
“Hey,” he responds, smiling. I curse my heart for skipping a beat at the sight. This isn’t helping with my plan to get over him in any way.
“This is awkward,” I say slowly, looking down at his scuffed-up work boots. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t say anything to Meredith about the other night.”
