by Debra Doxer
In Renee’s kitchen again, my hands start to tremble and my eyes blur with tears. Familiar pain presses down on me. Resentment toward Renee and my mother and this town, a place that never wanted to know the truth and preferred the lies. Lies that Renee continues to tell, but for her, the lies are the truth now. She bends her reality to make it more convenient, more palatable, even though that often makes me and the part I played more despicable.
My phone on the kitchen table alerts me to the fact that I have a message, and I realize I forgot to take it with me when I went outside. Since I’ve been going back and forth with Deedee all afternoon about the plans for tomorrow, I’m sure it’s her, although I hope it’s Renee.
When I glance at the caller ID, my pulse quickens. It’s Renee’s number, and I frantically tap the message to listen. As her voice comes through the speaker, I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I shake my head at her casual tone while she informs me that she isn’t gone for the day.
She won’t be back for an entire week.
In her message last night, Renee said she needed to get away and clear her head. Her tone was flippant and completely ambivalent to any inconvenience her sudden vacation may cause me.
“Thanks for taking care of Langley. Her schedule is taped inside the cabinet door next to the phone in the kitchen. See you next weekend.”
I only missed her by seconds, but when I called her right back, she didn’t pick up. Now I believe Renee’s invitation was a ruse to get me here so she could take off. If she’d actually asked me to watch Langley for a week, I would have had to say no. I can’t miss a week of rehearsals, and she knows that. She knows what staying here could cost me.
Is that what Renee wants? For me to lose my place in the company?
I love my niece, and if it weren’t for Dennis’s rule that missed rehearsals have a direct impact on stage time, I would have loved to spend a week with Langley. But I can’t, not now when my position with the company is already so precarious.
“Is my mom back?” Langley asks when she walks into the kitchen. “I looked in her room but she wasn’t there.”
I set down my cup of coffee, my third. I didn’t get much sleep last night.
“No, not yet.”
She gives me a long look. “She is coming back, though, right?”
I scoff as if the idea of Renee not coming home is ridiculous. “Of course she is.”
As Langley watches me, there’s a pinch of concern in her eyes. How can I tell her Renee is going to be gone for a week? I’m afraid the thought of not seeing her mother for so long and having only me here won’t improve her state of mind. We’re doing okay, but the closer relationship I’m building with Langley is tenuous, still in its infancy, and could be brought down with very little provocation.
I decide not to tell her until after the performance this afternoon. I don’t want to risk ruining the day for her. Besides, I have no idea what I’m going to do about this situation yet.
“It’s Sunday,” she says after a moment. “Mom lets me watch as much TV as I want on Sundays.”
Her expression holds a challenge. We had a small disagreement last night when I didn’t let her watch television before bed.
“How much TV is that?”
“Sometimes I watch it all day if she’s sleeping.”
I was about to bring my coffee to my mouth but I pause halfway there. “She sleeps all day on Sundays?”
Langley hesitates. “No. Not always.”
“How often?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs and then looks back over her shoulder as if she wants to escape more questions.
“What do you do for food on Sunday? Do you eat?”
“I’m not a baby, Aunt Nikki. I know where the kitchen is.”
I picture her in the kitchen, pulling a bag of chips out of the cabinet for dinner.
“Can I go watch TV now?”
When I nod, she bolts from the room, obviously regretting what she told me. Once again, I regret not being here more. It’s true Renee made it difficult, but not impossible. I should have pushed harder. I should have come on my own when Renee told me it wasn’t a good time because it was never a good time.
When she gets home, I have to do better, and I have to talk to her. I don’t believe she actually neglects Langley, but sometimes she may inch close to the line.
I’m comfortable in a dance studio. It feels like home. Everything about it is familiar down to the smell, the scuffed hardwood floors, and the smooth walls lined with mirrors. My body sighs in relief and simmers with energy when I walk into a studio.
Standing in the place where I first learned to dance, I can pretend for a moment that all I feel is nostalgia as I set down the tray of cupcakes we bought on the way here. I pretend that I’m not furious with Renee, and that staying here for a week was my idea.
I lick some pink frosting off my finger as Langley walks into the studio, looking worried.
“Are you excited?” I ask her, putting on a smile.
“No one is here yet.”
“It’s early. They’ll be here.”
Priscilla calls to Langley from the hallway and asks for help with the folding chairs. I offer my help too when a familiar vehicle pull into a spot in front of the studio. My brows rise toward my hairline as Deedee emerges from the passenger side of Tag’s car. When Siegfried jumps out of the back seat and follows her toward the door, my mouth falls open.
“Don’t be mad” is how Deedee greets me when she walks inside.
“What are Tag and Siegfried doing here?” I whisper.
Before I can finish the question, Siegfried is at my side, nudging my hand with his muzzle. I bend and wrap my arms around his neck, realizing how much I missed him.
“I needed a ride because Ian’s van is in the shop,” Deedee explains. “I thought I was going to have to take a cab all the way here when Tag saw me pulling the costumes off the rack in the dressing room and asked me what I was doing with them. When I told him, he offered to drive me and to dance with us.”
“You’re kidding me.” Before she can respond, Tag walks in wearing a hesitant expression.
“Hi, Nikki.”
My hands go to my hips. “Hi.”
“When Deedee told me about this, I wanted to help. I hope that’s okay.” His smile is tight with apprehension.
I have to admit, I’m confused. After the things he said, I figured the most we would do is exchange polite head nods when we saw each other at rehearsal, but here he is. He looks good too, the jerk, with some subtle five o’clock shadow shading his jaw, and sun-kissed hair falling onto his forehead.
“Thank you,” I say reluctantly.
Deedee releases a breath, apparently relieved that I intend to be civil. As Deedee and Tag carry the costumes into the back, Langley’s friends begin to arrive. Some are dropped off by their parents, but other parents stay and sit down in the folding chairs set up on one side of the studio.
Deedee brought our costumes from Swan Lake, and I’m fairly sure she didn’t get permission to take them off the premises. The bodices are white, covered in feathers, and the tutus fan out dramatically from below the waist at a ninety-degree angle. She included our pointe shoes and Tag’s embroidered black shirt and black pantaloons. I grin happily just looking at them, knowing how fascinated the kids will be.
“So we’ll do the birthday celebration from the beginning of Act 1?” Deedee asks as we get changed in the dressing room. Tag is using the bathroom to put on his costume. Siegfried plops down in the corner with his eyes on us, half lying down and half sitting.
“Sure.” I nod distractedly as I reach into my bag and withdraw something precious.
“You and that ribbon,” Deedee says, shaking her head.
“It’s my good luck charm.” I tuck the yellowed piece of ribbon into the waistband of my tights.
“It’s filthy.” She wrinkles her nose and adjusts the bodice of her costume. “Are we driving back right after, or do you have
something planned with your niece first?”
I pause and then lace up my shoes. “I can’t go back today. My sister is going to be gone for a week.”
Deedee blinks at me, clueless.
“I have to stay here to watch Langley.”
Her brow wrinkles with confusion. “You didn’t say anything about babysitting for a week.”
“I didn’t know. She blindsided me with it. Left me a voice mail message last night.”
Deedee places her hands on her hips. “She can’t do that. Tell her she has to come back.”
“Believe me, I’ve tried, but she won’t pick up her phone. I can’t get in touch with her.” I know my predicament is sinking in when her eyes widen.
“Then bring your niece to San Francisco.”
“She has school. Besides, who would watch her while I’m rehearsing all day?”
“Isn’t there someone else who could stay with her?”
I shake my head. “Not that I know of. I could ask Langley if there’s anyone, but I haven’t told her yet, and I don’t want her to think I’m going to desert her or that I don’t want to be here with her.”
Deedee plops down onto the bench next to me. She knows that besides my sister and niece, I have no other family. Even though that’s not completely true, it may as well be.
“Maybe you could drive into the city every day. It’s only an hour.”
“Not in rush hour, and I can’t beat the traffic because I have to take Langley to school. Then she’s out by three. I’d never be back in time.”
Priscilla pokes her head in. “Oh my.” She walks farther into the dressing room, her eyes scanning over us. “The two of you look like a fairy tale come to life. Just let me know if you need anything.”
“Wish we felt that way too,” Deedee mutters, giving me a look.
“I was thinking of asking Priscilla,” I say once she leaves the room. “She’s my old dance teacher’s daughter. She lives here in town, and I think she has kids of her own.”
Deedee eyes me hopefully. “There you go. How well do you know her?”
“Not well at all. I haven’t seen her in years, but I knew her mother really well.”
“Go ahead and ask her then. You’ve got nothing to lose.” Deedee pulls at the wrinkles in her costume.
She’s wrong. I do have something to lose—all the headway I’ve made with Langley since yesterday.
“Ready?” Deedee asks.
I grab her hand and squeeze it tight. “Thank you for doing this. You don’t know how much it means to me that you’d drop everything and come down here to dance in front of a bunch of eight-year-olds.”
She grins and squeezes my hand back. “It’s my pleasure. I know you’d do it for me. Not that I have a niece, but if I did.”
I chuckle, and Siegfried chooses that moment to stand and come over to us, looking for attention.
“Has he been any trouble?” I ask, worried because I didn’t expect her to bring him today.
Deedee exhales. “No, but he and Brandi haven’t been getting along. She tortures him, the poor guy.”
“She tortures him? He weighs seven times what she does. He could eat her for breakfast. Not that he would,” I add when Deedee’s eyes widen.
She glances down at Siegfried. “He may look tough but he’s a cream puff. Not exactly a guard dog, if you know what I mean.”
“He’s gentle.”
“He’s like Ferdinand the Bull. He just wants to sit all day and smell the flowers. Unfortunately, Brandi wants to trample the flowers and him. Turns out, she’s got a Napoleon complex. So if you end up staying for a week, I think you need to keep him with you.”
Keeping Siegfried here is the least of my worries. “If I have to miss a week of rehearsals, what do you think Dennis will do?”
She eyes me gravely. “Pull you out of the next show and question your dedication. You’ve got to figure this out, Nikki.”
I swallow hard because I know she’s right.
“Maybe you could tell him someone died,” she suggests. “Someone close to you, like your grandmother or something.”
“She did die, fifteen years ago.”
“I’d leave that part out.”
I roll my eyes but a knot builds in my stomach. What am I going to do?
“Ready?” Priscilla pokes her head in again. “I think everyone is here.”
Hoping Siegfried sits quietly during our dance, I take him by the leash and bring him with us when we go to meet Tag by the door of the studio. I make sure Siegfried has a good view of the room so he can keep me in his sight. Then I bend down and say “stay” firmly, even though I have no idea whether he follows commands or not.
Priscilla smiles warmly at me as I hand her my iPod so she can hook it up to the speakers. Then she walks in ahead of us and the room goes quiet.
As the first note of music plays, Deedee and I make our entrances en pointe, the way we do in the show, but usually with a long line of other dancers.
The children gasp when they see us. My gaze sweeps the room, taking in Langley’s beaming expression, which seems to match the ones worn by most of the little girls, and I hope the ones who accused Langley of lying are here.
As I move across the room, I nearly stumble when my gaze collides with Cole’s. He’s standing in the far corner with Derek. Our eyes hold briefly before I spin away to meet Deedee in the center of the room, but now my heart is pounding harder than before, hard enough to overshadow the throbbing that started in my knee with the first pirouette.
I haven’t danced since Friday, and I hoped that small break would rest my knee and let it heal, but it’s not any better. It aches with every move.
I catch sight of Cole again from the corner of my eye, and I’m stunned that he’s here. After the way he discouraged Derek when Langley invited them, I didn’t expect to see him.
As our performance continues, my gaze involuntarily drifts in his direction, and unless I’m mistaken, his eyes remain fixed on me. There are three of us dancing, all in different spots around the room, but he only watches me. His eyes track my movements, but I can’t study him long enough to see if those eyes are still filled with animosity or disinterest. All I know is the look on his face is intense enough to distract me if I’m not careful.
My attention breaks away from Cole’s when Tag wraps his arm around my waist and lifts me from my arabesque pose. It takes me a moment to adjust to his touch and not want to squirm, but I bring my supporting leg up into a parallel passé and then drop down onto pointe again when Tag releases me. The girls in front screech with glee and Tag is inspired to do it again, even though that isn’t part of the routine. I break character and smile when the girls cheer and clap.
Deedee appears amused when I move past her, and the next time I catch sight of Cole, his eyes are on Cole, not me anymore.
We dance for about twenty minutes and throughout, Langley and her friends are a fascinated audience.
“Want to feel good about yourself?” Deedee asks by my ear. “Dress up like a princess and spin around en pointe in front of a room of eight-year-olds. They’ll make you feel eight feet tall.”
I grin because she’s right.
After the last piece of music ends and we take our bows and curtsies, the girls jump up and gather around us, wanting to touch our costumes as they ask if dancing en pointe hurts. Deedee and Tag chat with them and answer their questions until a few of them notice the cupcakes on the table in the back and get distracted by the sight of pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles.
“That was awesome. Everyone believes me now, Aunt Nikki,” Langley says, grinning widely.
I lean down and hug her. “I’m so glad, sweetie.”
When Langley goes to join her friends, Priscilla approaches me. This is my chance to talk to her.
“That was wonderful,” she says, beaming.
With a polite smile I gather my nerve, but as she continues to praise our dancing and talk about how proud her mother would have be
en, my resolve falters. Can I ask this of her? How is this not foisting Langley off onto a woman I hardly know? How is this not irresponsible? Now that I’m faced with asking her to watch Langley for a week, I can’t. It isn’t right.
When Priscilla turns to talk to Deedee, Cole moves in my direction. My palms grow moist when I realize he intends to talk to me, but before he can reach me, one of the mothers places herself directly in my line of sight.
“Do you do birthday parties?” she asks.
I blink at her question.
At that moment, Tag comes to stand beside me.
“Excuse me?” I ask the woman.
“Birthday parties? You know, for little girls. My younger daughter turns four next month and wants to be a dancer. She would absolutely love this. But maybe you could change the music to something else, like nursery rhymes? The little ones would probably enjoy that more.”
Tag laughs out loud, but then coughs to cover it. Somehow I don’t laugh, even though I want to.
“No,” I answer politely. “We don’t do birthday parties.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.”
Tag turns to me. “Perhaps we could squeeze it in. We’re performing for the president and the first lady at the Kennedy Center next month, and then we have a charity event at the Bolshoi in Moscow. Perhaps we could fit her birthday party between those two bookings?”
Tag can be such a pompous ass. I elbow him in the side and he grunts, even though I’m sure it didn’t hurt. It’s easy to fall into this banter with him, even though I don’t want to. It’s familiar and comfortable, but confounding because I don’t know why he’s being so nice to me today.
The mother asking about birthday parties appears confused too, but for a different reason, as her forehead wrinkles deepen.
“He’s kidding,” I tell her. “We don’t do birthday parties.”
“God save me from suburbia,” Tag mutters once she’s gone.
But I’m not focused on him. I’m looking for Cole, and I spot him by the door talking to some other parents. I guess whatever he intended to say to me wasn’t important enough to wait around, and I hate how disappointed I am.
