Last Dance

by Renee Fowler

  “No problem.” A flash of lightning blinds from closeby and thunder booms. Hail begins to pelt the hood of his police car in a loud staccato. He grabs my forearm and leans forward to stare up at the sky. “Hold on a minute. We’ll sit here and let this pass. You can’t go out in that.”

  Thunder cracks again, and Sarah startles in the backseat.

  “It’ll be okay,” Jack says, watching her in the rearview mirror. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, an emergency siren begins to wail. “I think that’s a tornado warning.”

  Sarah begins to cry.

  “You two should come inside. I live on the bottom floor.”

  Jack nods at me. We both fling open our doors, and he rushes around to grab Sarah. By the time we all make it to my apartment door, we’re drenched.

  Inside I drop my bag by the door and rush to go get some towels for Jack and Sarah. He helps his daughter dry off a bit while I flick on the TV to scan for the weather channel. “Sheesh,” I mutter, looking at the radar image full of angry red and orange. “I didn’t even think it was supposed to rain today.”

  “I didn’t either,” Jack says, looking around. The sirens are still sounding from outside, and the wind whips the bushes outside the half window near the ceiling of my partially subterranean apartment. “Let’s get away from this window, Sarah,” he says, scooping her up and carrying her closer to the kitchen.

  “Is that you?” Sarah asks, staring over Jack’s shoulder at a framed print Gregory gave me shortly before I moved.

  “Mmhmm.”

  “You’re a real ballerina.”

  “I was.”

  “Is that your boyfriend?”

  I laugh under my breath. “No, but he’s a good friend. We performed together. That was from The Firebird.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s another ballet, like The Nutcracker.”

  Thunder cracks again, and Sarah whimpers. My cat emerges from her hiding spot beneath the couch, and winds around my ankles, wanting to be held. I pick her up, and cradle her against my chest. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” I tell Sarah, although I’m feeling a bit anxious myself. “Princess is a very smart cat, and she’s not afraid. See?”

  Sarah smiles first at Princess, then at her father. “That’s what you call me.”

  “I do sometimes as a nickname, but I think Princess is the cat’s real name.”

  “It is,” I agree. “If you sit down, you can hold her if you want. She’s very friendly.”

  Jack pulls out one of the kitchen chairs, and plucks Sarah down. She reaches for the cat, and I place Princess gently on her lap.

  Sarah strokes the fur along her spine, and Princess purrs contentedly. “She likes me,” Sarah proclaims happily.

  “I think she does.”

  “Can we get a cat, Daddy?”

  Jack turns his face to hide a small eye roll. “How about we talk about that later.”

  Thunder rumbles from close enough to be felt. Jack’s eyes are fixed on the TV weather report when the power winks out. This time Sarah doesn’t cry. In the murky darkness she whispers, “Don’t worry, Princess. My mommy is an angel, and she won’t let anything bad happen to us.”

  For a long breath there is nothing but the sound of the emergency siren, the howling wind, and rain beating against the window. “Do you have any candles, or a flashlight?” Jack asks in a thick voice.

  “Uh, yeah. Sorry.” Feeling my way through the kitchen, I crack my shin on one of the chairs and swallow back a curse. After a bit of fumbling I finally find the appropriate drawer with candles, a lighter, and a flashlight, all reserved for just such occasions.

  I light a few of the candles. Still petting Princess, Sarah stares at the flickering flame of the tealight in the middle of the table. “Why is it called The Firebird?”

  I take a seat across from her, and tell her the story as the storm continues to rage outside. I can feel Jack’s eyes on me in the semi darkness, or perhaps that’s only my imagination. This whole thing feels oddly surreal, to be hunkering down with this man and his daughter who I’ve only just met. By the time I finish the tale, the rain outside has begun to taper off, and the sirens have stopped wailing.

  “Were you the princess?”

  “No, I was the Firebird.”

  “I think I would rather be a princess than a bird.”

  “Sometimes we have to take the role we’re given.” I don’t mention that I wasn’t given the role. I worked my ass off for it. “All the parts are important. Everyone works together to tell the story.”

  Princess leaps from Sarah’s lap, and darts across the kitchen.

  “I think we might be in the clear,” Jack says. “Thanks for letting us wait it out in here.”

  “It wouldn’t have been safe driving around in that, and thanks again for the ride. That would’ve been a nightmare if I’d been walking when that storm hit.”

  “Hey, no problem.” The candlelight catches his eyes, making them appear silver. “Do you want us to stay until the electricity is on again?”

  “That’s not necessary. Princess and I aren’t afraid of the dark.”

  Jack laughs quietly.

  I wonder what happened to Sarah’s mother, but obviously I’m not going to ask. Something tells me it was nothing like what happened to mine. He reaches for his daughter’s hand, and Sarah hops down from the chair. “Bye Miss Anna. Bye Princess,” she calls out as he leads her towards the door.

  “Bye Sarah. It was nice meeting you again.”

  I close the door behind them, and let loose a long exhalation, then I remember Laura. If the electricity is out here, maybe it’s out elsewhere too. Perhaps I’ll be spared this ‘fun’ night out at the bar with her old friends after all.

  An hour later power is restored, and Laura is flicking through my closet, looking for something appropriate for me to wear. “What happened to all those dresses you used to have, the ones you’d wear to all those fancy parties with Mikhail.” Laura says his name like a curse.

  “I got rid of a lot of that stuff.” I don’t mention that I abandoned most of it when Mikhail dumped me. Shortly after my accident, Gregory was gracious enough to go collect a few things of importance from the apartment I briefly shared with Mikhail. I couldn’t stand to look at my former fiance, and it was obvious he didn’t want to see me. The asshole couldn’t even be bothered to visit me in the hospital after my accident. He had the audacity to break up with me by text.

  Perhaps it’s for the best. I can’t imagine Mikhail holding my hand patiently while I was laid up. He wasn’t a patient man, and he didn’t deal with incompetence, weakness, or failure. I guess he considered me being struck by a moving vehicle from behind some sort of failure on my part.

  “Is the place you’re dragging me to a fancy dress kind of joint anyways?” I ask.

  “Nah, not really.” Laura yanks free a pair of snug, black jeans, and a fluttery, red top. “This should work.” She tosses them both in my direction.

  I catch the clothes, and stare at her pointedly to give me some privacy.

  “Since when are you shy?” she asks, and it’s a fair question coming from her. Back at The Riverside Ballet Collective, the backstage area for the corps was one big space with no room for modesty. Laura knows I was in an accident, but I don’t think she has any inkling to the true damage it inflicted. The only person who has seen the aftermath is Gregory, and while he assured me it wasn’t that bad, I know better. He’s too kind to speak the truth.

  “No free shows,” I joke with a wink.

  She rolls her eyes, and clears out so I can change.

  I strip down, and force myself to look at it in the full length mirror hanging on the outside of my closet door. The jagged line across my lower belly cuts at an angle to meet up with the tangled web of raised welts at my hip. Down the side of my thigh, the skin puckers where the muscle was damaged, and the suture marks are still visible in parallel lines. I was struck from behind, and drove forward into
a metal garbage can in an alleyway, that’s what I hear anyways. I don’t remember a bit of it.

  It’s a miracle I survived at all, and I really should be thankful, but it’s hard not to wish I’d healed a bit better. One doctor said the fleshy keloid scars might respond to treatment, or the treatment might make them worse. After the string of luck I’ve endured, I’ve decided to leave well enough alone for the time being. I shimmy into the jeans, and snug the top over my head. Like this I appear perfectly normal. No one would ever guess at the mess hidden beneath.

  When I emerge from my bedroom, Laura is standing inside my bathroom, digging through my medicine cabinet. “Where is all your makeup?”

  “I don’t really wear it anymore.”

  “Shit. What happened to you?” Laura slides past me to get to her purse slung on the counter. She comes back with a tube of lipstick.

  “Why do I have to dress up to meet your friends?”

  “We’re going to a bar. They’ll be guys there too.”

  “I’m not interested in meeting a guy,” I say for the hundredth time since I’ve arrived in town.

  Laura gives me a stern look and thrusts the lipstick in my direction. “It’s been over a year. There’s no way in hell you’re still hung up on that asshole.”

  “I’m not,” I say sincerely as I apply the lipstick in the mirror. “Happy now?”

  “I don’t know what you even saw in him to begin with. He was old enough to be your dad, and he was a dick.”

  I can’t really argue with either one of those points, so I only shrug.

  Laura pulls the elastic out of my hair, and fluffs my limp curls around my shoulders. “You know what they say, the best way to get over a man is to get under another one.”

  “Whoever they are, they sound like an idiot, and I don’t plan on getting under anyone tonight, so don’t even bother.” Princess wanders over to paw at my feet. I stoop down to pick her up.

  “Are you planning on getting a few more cats in lieu of an actual boyfriend? Come on, Anna. We’re getting too old to screw around. Tick tock, you know?”

  “You’re older than me,” I remind her, failing to mention that that particular clock stopped ticking for me the day of my accident. “Maybe you should worry about finding a boyfriend for yourself first.”

  The bar we go to is dingy, dimly lit, and not all that crowded for a friday night. Laura’s friends are already waiting when we arrive, and they are occupying two tables pushed together in one corner.

  Laura introduces me to everyone, and I have a hard time keeping them all straight. They are friends she’s had since high school, and I feel a little out of place as I try to keep up with the conversation between these women that have known each other for years. Laura does her best to include me in the chatter, but I’m kind of hopeless.

  It was like this when we were roommates too and she would try and drag me out to a bar or a party. Performing in front of an audience never phased me, but this face to face, one on one interaction with people is sort of beyond me, especially when they are people I don’t have much in common with.

  “Holy shit. There she is.” Laura jumps up from her seat beside me to fling herself at a slender brunette approaching our table. Everyone starts talking at once. “This is Jamie,” she explains to me. “She just moved back to town.”

  I introduce myself, and give her what I hope is a friendly smile, then take a tiny sip of the beer Laura insists I have.

  “God, it is slim pickings in here tonight,” Jamie says, eyeing the few lone guys saddled up on bar stools. “Where the hell is everyone at?”

  “I was wondering the same thing,” Laura says. “This place used to be full on fridays.”

  “The electricity is out in some places still. That’s probably why,” one of them says.

  “And it’s early,” another points out.

  “It’s not that early. It’s almost nine o’clock.”

  “Nine o’clock is early,” Laura says with an incredulous look. “What the hell happened to you all?”

  “My kids get up before the roosters,” one says.

  Another grumbles. “Mine too. I know I didn’t voluntarily wake up at six am when I was their age.”

  “Where the hell do people go to meet guys around here anymore?” Jamie asks.

  “We’re wondering the same thing,” Laura says, bumping my shoulder.

  Laughing, I shake my head. “Maybe you’re wondering, but I’m not.”

  “I have someone for you,” Jamie says with wide eyes towards Laura. “My brother.”

  “What’s he up to nowadays?” Laura asks, not sounding all that interested.

  “He’s a police officer.”

  “Is he 420 friendly?”

  Jamie lets loose a long laugh. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

  “Pass.” Laura polishes off her drink. “He might be perfect for this one. I can’t even get her to drink a damn beer.”

  “What do you do?” Jamie asks me.

  Laura answers for me. “She’s a dance teacher. We both are. We’re opening up a dance studio. God, you are so far out of the fucking loop. I’m finally getting out of that bakery and putting my pointless degree to some good use.”

  Jamie’s face breaks out into a gigantic smile. “You’re the ballerina with the cat! My niece was going on and on about you this afternoon.”

  “Sarah?” I ask.

  Jamie nods vigorously. “You’ve already met my brother. This is perfect.”

  He might be perfect, but I’m not. I shake my head fast. “I’m not… I’m not really looking.”

  “Yes you are,” Laura insists. “Holy shit. That was Jack that came in yesterday? He’s hot now. When did that happen?”

  Jamie’s lip curls up. “That’s my brother you’re talking about.”

  “You’re the one trying to get him laid,” Laura points out, then she hooks her thumb in my direction. “What a coinkydink, cause that’s what this one is in desperate need of.”

  “No, I’m not,” I insist firmly, shooting Laura a sharp look.

  “Why?” Laura whines. “It’s been a year. A fucking year, Anna. She got dumped a year ago,” she explains to Jaime. “And she’s still crying about it.”

  I can’t remember the last time I cried over Mikhail, but it’s simply easier to go along with her theory than explain the truth. “Your brother seems great, but I’m just not ready yet. Sorry.”

  Chapter 6

  Jack

  “Maybe I’ll just go stay with Sarah at Mom’s place,” I say.

  “No way,” Jamie says. “It’s your birthday too.”

  “But it’s your friends that are coming over. Aren’t we too old to be having a birthday party anyways?”

  “Hell no. Who told you that nonsense? You’re never too old to celebrate your birthday. And they’re your friends too.”

  I give my sister a wary look. We never ran in the same circles in high school, primarily since we were a grade apart after Jamie was forced to repeat the eighth grade. She was a cheerleader who snuck out on the weekends to get wasted with her friends. I occupied myself with sports, baseball primarily, and stayed clear of much trouble. Besides sharing the same color hair and eyes, Jamie and I don’t even resemble each other much. Most people would never believe we were related, let along fraternal twins.

  “I would say you could call some of your friends, but they’re all cops. Nothing brings down a party faster than a bunch of you lot.” Jamie hoists the box up on the table, and starts to unload liquor bottles. “Can you get the keg out of the back of my car?”

  “Keg? Jamie, this can not turn into some raging party,” I say firmly.

  “Well, then you better stick around and make sure things don’t get out of hand.”

  I sigh loudly. This is starting to remind me of those few times our parents left us alone for the night as teenagers. The good news is, my house is situated a bit back from the road, with a patch of woods to either side, and it seems unlikely any of my nei
ghbors will call the police for noise. I would never hear the end of it down at the station if that happened.

  “I guess I’ll be stuck driving people home anyways.”

  “Nope. You’re drinking. It’s your birthday.”

  “Jaime-”

  “I’ve already got it all taken care of. Shelly and her husband volunteered to play chauffeur if it’s needed, since she’s pregnant, and he’s not drinking out of solidarity, I guess. Remember Shelly?”

  “Not really.”

  “And I figure a few people can crash here if they want, right?”

  Speechless, I rake a hand back through my hair. This is turning out exactly like the old days.

  “No matter what, no one is driving off from here drunk. I promise. Now no more arguing, and go get the keg while I get the rest of this stuff ready.”

  When I come back in, Sarah is admiring all the pretty bottles lined up on the counter. I sheppard her out of the kitchen. “What’s the barrel for, Daddy?”

  “It’s full of… ginger ale,” I say, knowing it’s one thing Sarah would never ask for. She wrinkles her nose up at me. “Are you excited to stay the night with Grandma?”

  Grinning, Sarah nods vigorously. “We’re going to make cookies, and watch movies. Mamaw is coming over too.”

  Grandma is my mom. Mamaw is Claire’s. “It sounds like you’re all going to have a lot of fun.”

  “You should come too, Daddy.”

  “I would love to, Princess, but I have to stay and babysit your aunt.”

  Sarah laughs. “She’s too old to need a babysitter.”

  “That’s what I thought. Do you have everything packed that you want to take?”

  “Uh huh.”

  I pick Sarah up and give her a kiss on either cheek. “Be good. Don’t give grandma or mamaw a hard time, okay?”

  “I won’t.”

  “I love you, Princess.”

  “I love you too, Daddy.”

  I walk her outside when my mom pulls up, and I spot Evelyn riding shotgun. I get Sarah settled in the back seat and buckled up. My mom rolls her window down. “I can’t believe my baby’s already thirty two.”