Delicate

by K. L. Cottrell

  All of it was so strangely the best.

  Currently, I feel all over again the way she hugged me Saturday night. I relish the memory of how she looked at me after she said she doesn’t want anyone else to be a safety net for her, only me. Then I chuckle at recalling how cutely messy her hair bun had been at dinner.

  After I tucked her loose hair back and got a full-fledged shiver out of her, there was a lengthy moment in which I wondered what I had done it for. I don’t know that I’ve ever done it before—it’s a maybe at best—but then and there, I just…did it. There wasn’t any room for thought.

  ‘Cause I was too distracted thinking about how perfect she is and how I missed my chance to kiss her on the cheek.

  Blowing out a breath, I shake my head at myself.

  I’m not even sure why I hesitated to do that. Normally, I don’t.

  Well, that’s not exactly true; as with other things, I put a stop to those kinds of gestures when I got with Jenna. But before she came around, no, it wasn’t something I was reluctant about. It was a relaxed and comforting thing Noelle and I had been doing for a while.

  I’m pretty sure I’ve never made her shiver before, though.

  Remembering that makes me feel flushed, but I know it’s no big deal. She wasn’t mad, and it wasn’t even truly awkward, just surprising. We recovered within, like, twenty seconds.

  As I shift around in my work chair and straighten up from the slump I seem to have loosened into, I wonder if she’d let me do it again. Move her hair back, I mean.

  I think she would.

  My pulse flutters over how her similar gesture felt last night, and so do my fingers on the armrests of my chair at the thought of doing it to her another time. I’ve always liked Noelle’s hair; it was even more pleasant to touch than to look at. Uniquely soothing.

  I start at the vibration of my cell phone on my desk.

  My pulse flutters triple-time when I see the message on the screen.

  NOELLE: I can’t wait for tonight. I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like it’s been forever since we saw you, not just eighteen hours or whatever

  A grin doesn’t spread just across my face—it feels like it spreads over all of me.

  ME: No, I feel the exact same way. You’re not crazy

  NOELLE: Really?

  Chuckling, I start looking for a GIF that might express the enthusiastic yes I can’t properly type out.

  Such a big yes.

  ‘Hell yes,’ I want to say. ‘Give me more of your time and your trust and your eyes and your smiles and your hugs. Give me more life-brightening fun and more chances to be the best uncle to the most awesome kid in the world. I miss all of that no matter how recently I had it.’

  Well, I guess I could just type that out instead of sending a GIF.

  Yeah. I could.

  Would it be too much, though? a quiet voice in my head wonders.

  Nervousness strikes me for a stomach-turn of a second.

  But I’m especially reminded of our traded compliments from The Chocolate Shop, which were also kind of bold but turned out fine, and I’m able to brush the nerves away.

  The bond between us has never been too much. Being open and honest, no matter what that looks like, is never too much for us.

  So I do it. I send her those thoughts.

  Then I set the phone down and pop my knuckles, because even though I’m not afraid of what she’ll think, an odd shakiness seems to be trying to take over my hands.

  I turn my attention to what we said before: we’re excited about tonight. Theo’s beginner tap and ballet classes take place on Thursdays from five-thirty to six-thirty, and this one will be open to loved ones so we can see what the students have been learning so far. Even though Noelle and I often get showy updates at the house, it’ll still be a lot of fun to get to sit in on a class. I have plans to leave work early to ensure I get to the studio in plenty of time, since it’s across town from my job.

  Thinking about this makes me think about my much more secret dance goings-on.

  The shaking in my hands worsens—or intensifies, I should say, because it’s still not a bad feeling. It’s born of excitement.

  I’ve been working on more basics lately. I’m proud to say I can just about do what’s called a ‘single pirouette’ turn with enough grace to keep from falling one way or another…which, I’ll admit, has taken a lot of tries. But apparently, one key step to transforming a precarious turn into a solid one is to be steady on your tiptoes, so the next thing on my list is learning how to do that for longer than two seconds without wobbling like crazy. It’s not easy, though. Trying to stay balanced on the ball of one foot while also spinning? Yeah, I’m not sure that kind of control comes naturally to anybody.

  I have no damn idea how Noelle ever mastered literally dancing on her toes. She didn’t dance like that exclusively, but still. Knowing how to do it at all is beyond impressive.

  But what I really, really want to learn to do, more than anything else, is some kind of lift. Picking her up in a smooth, dancey way sounds so fun and cool and—

  My phone vibrates again, startles me again.

  NOELLE: Wow

  NOELLE: We really do feel the same way

  And now I’m grinning again.

  Yep, what I said was fine.

  I send her the one hundred emoji, and she promptly sends it back.

  Before we can say anything else, a message from my boss comes in on one of my computer monitors. The shipment of new and improved desk phones that we’ve been waiting on has arrived; we can finally start preparing to switch out the old ones our branch of the company has been using.

  I hadn’t been terribly busy before, since Derek decided to do his job today and freed me and Blaze up to knock out our own tasks, but now I guess you could say work is calling.

  The stupid joke makes me snicker way more than it should.

  Stupid or not, I quickly text it to Noelle—and she, too, gets a laugh out of it.

  Seriously can’t wait to hear her laugh in person.

  I really do miss it.

  —

  When I get to the dance studio, my day goes from being great to being outstanding. Noelle and Theodora are waiting for me on the sidewalk, cheering as I jog up from where I parked, beaming at me through the brisk evening.

  Damn, man.

  Two blue-eyed girls almost looking at me like I’m their world, each searing my soul in a different way.

  At the curb, I spontaneously exclaim, “Okay, Theo! Run and jump and I’ll catch you!”

  She does it without pause—in a flat second, she has leapt up from the curb with a gleeful shriek. I catch her easily and give her a spin, causing her laughter to echo through the air, along with mine and her mama’s.

  “Oh my gosh!” Noelle says. “Uncle Beck is so strong!”

  “The most strongest ever!” Theo agrees. Then she asks me, “Will you carry me until I have to dance?”

  I reply happily, “I sure will! How has your day been, missy?”

  “Great!”

  My favorite answer. “I’m glad to hear it. Did you learn anything new at school?”

  “Mmhmm! Colors of buttons! And numbers!”

  “Oh?”

  She gets a bit jumbled trying to explain what she means, so Noelle helps. Theo’s class had to sort mixed buttons into piles by color, and then they worked on counting how many of each color there were.

  “Whoa,” I say appreciatively. “That’s a cool way to learn about things that are alike.”

  Noelle nods. “Yeah, I liked the sound of it. I don’t remember doing anything that fun when I was her age.”

  “Right?”

  Theo sighs. “It was fun, but there weren’t enough pink buttons.”

  “Aw,” Noelle and I chuckle together. Then she adds, “Maybe next time!”

  I give the kid’s little knee a light squeeze between two fingers. “Yep, maybe next time. But for now, you yourself have a lot of pink going on.”
<
br />   That perks her back up. She holds out an arm and a leg to show off what’s visible of her dance outfit beneath her coat. “Yeah! You have to wear ballet clothes to dance!”

  “Sure do!” I look between her and Noelle. “Hey, thanks for inviting me to come watch. I’ve been really excited about it.”

  Now Theo throws a hug around my neck. “I’m so, so, so happy to see you!”

  I manage to hug her while still holding her, and I catch Noelle’s eye. A pleasantly warm smile and an even warmer look pass between us.

  She shuffles over to us, telling me, “I, too, am so, so, so happy to see you.”

  I reach out to pat her arm at the same time she swings a hand up to touch me. Our fingers collide in a bump so clumsy that a couple of them slip through the others.

  “Oh, I—”

  “Oops, I—”

  We stop talking, withdraw our hands from the half-tangle, fix a look on each other…and start chuckling.

  “Did I hurt you?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “I didn’t stab you with a fingernail, did I?”

  “Nope. I’m perfect.”

  Those blue eyes hold mine for another second before she starts nodding.

  And I know she’s just glad I’m okay. I know that. But I can’t fend off a wild swell of hope that she’s also agreeing with that word. I can’t help hoping she’s nodding because she thinks I’m perfect in a way I didn’t mean—in a way I’ve never in my life thought about myself.

  God knows I think it about her.

  I was thinking it earlier today. And yesterday. And all the way back to Saturday. And before then. Back, back, back days, weeks, months.

  She takes a breath, and her gaze releases mine to skip over the rest of my face. Then she looks at Theo. Then at all of me. Then she spears me with a smile.

  “We should go in.” She gestures at the dance studio. “Get this dance baby to her class.”

  Now when she reaches out, she does so toward Theo and sneaks a tickle onto her neck. The girl had been quietly snuggling into me, but now she giggles and squirms in my arms.

  I grin at how cute she is, at the reminder of what we’re all in the middle of, and at the fact that the new look Noelle and I are sharing is warmer yet than before.

  “All right,” I reply. “Let’s go.”

  “Yay!” Theo exclaims right in my ear.

  With a slight wince and a snort of laughter, I follow Noelle.

  In the building, she and I join the other guests in spending this last bit of before-class time talking to our dancer about behaving. We know she’s over the moon to have us here, but this shouldn’t end up being playtime.

  “I won’t play at all,” Theo promises. “I’m gonna be good and quiet.”

  A glance of amused doubt goes between me and Noelle, but she still says, “Okay, ‘cause Uncle Beck and I really wanna see you do your ballet and tap.”

  “Really bad?”

  I nod. “Really badly.”

  “Good,” is all Theo says to that, and it sends me and Noelle into chuckles.

  Soon, it’s time for everyone to gather in the big room off to the right, where there’s plenty of space for dancers and visitors alike. The instructor, Miss Zaya, and her assistant, Miss Erin, warmly welcome all of us and thank us for coming, then briefly give the girls their own talk about paying attention so everybody can see what they’ve accomplished so far. This is met with more Theo-esque promises to be good.

  And not five minutes later, I’m finding out which three words best describe a small crowd of four-year-old ballerinas: precious, energetic, hilarious.

  There are ten of them and they’re all thrilled to have their parents, not-parents, and siblings in their creative space. To no one’s surprise, those talks and promises are forgotten as excited distraction takes over. Most of the girls stay in their horizontal line in the middle of the room, but a couple prance to the back to chat with Mom or Dad or Grandma. A few pay attention to their teachers, but others—including Theodora—keep sneaking glances, waves, and smiles to their loved ones.

  “Pay attention!” Noelle whisper-laughs to her now, pointing. “Beach ball!” She lightly sweeps her arms into a rounded pose in front of her, like she’s holding a beach ball, which is what Miss Zaya has just reminded her students to do to show off their ‘first position’ ballet arms.

  Theo giggles and finally rounds her own arms.

  The way they’re acting with each other is familiar to me, of course. So is the dance stuff, thanks to the lesson I got from Theo and the glimpses I’ve seen of this subject during my research. But I’m still firmly stuck in this moment, not bored, not caring at all that none of this is fresh information. I’m just fully enjoying watching my g—

  The thought grinds to a halt in my mind before it can finish unfolding.

  Then it unfolds anyway because I can’t actually fight it back. The sentiment is too big, too strong.

  ‘My girls.’

  I was about to label them ‘my girls,’ not ‘Cliff’s girls’ or even ‘these girls.’

  It’s hard to tell if I’m being choked more by sharp sorrow or guilt, but either way, I’m left short on breath.

  As I work to fix that, to get a good gulp of air into my lungs, I crack my suddenly stiff knuckles. Chatter from the dancers and other spectators meets my ears, but it all sounds fuzzy; nothing is as loud as the anxious thoughts assailing me.

  How could I think of Noelle and Theo like that? I haven’t done anything to deserve being able to call them my girls.

  Cliff did it all. He did the real things.

  Those are my best friend’s girls.

  They aren’t my—I swear, God, Cliff, I’m not trying to take them from you or something. I’m just their friend and uncle—Noelle’s friend and Theo’s uncle. I know they aren’t—

  “I love you so much, Uncle Beck!”

  The happy pop of a voice wrenches me out of my head.

  Blinking, I refocus on my surroundings and realize I’ve been staring at Theodora. She’s back to not doing her ballet steps. Instead, she’s fully turned around, away from the huge mirror and her instructors, blowing me kisses with both hands.

  And that…that hits me just as hard as the sadness and guilt.

  That open-hearted, not-thinking-about-anything-else action plus what she just called out to me in the middle of her dance class, in front of everyone.

  It knocks the breath out of me for a much more welcome reason than before.

  Although those darker emotions don’t go away, they do get pushed aside enough for comfort and gratitude to show up. I act on them quickly, before Theo gets turned around again with the other ballerinas who have gotten distracted.

  I blow my own kisses and call back, “I love you with my entire heart, Theodora!”

  A face-squinting grin precedes a squeak and a hop that turns her back to Miss Zaya and Miss Erin.

  While those few other guests convince their dancers to pay attention again, too, I go from looking at Theo to looking at Noelle’s reflection in the mirror—and once more, my lungs take a hit.

  This time it’s because she’s gazing up at me with so much affection on her face that I can see it from across the room…and because she’s absently twisting at the engagement ring on her right hand.

  It’s the kind of sweet affection I’ve been cherishing lately, thinking about repeatedly, wanting more of; she’s aiming it at me anew right now, even as some part of her thinks about Cliff.

  Part of me demands I turn my head and experience that look from up close.

  The rest of me isn’t sure I can handle it at this particular time.

  Because, no, the guilt and sorrow haven’t gone away. They’ve just climbed into the backseat—and now, thanks to Noelle’s ring-twisting, they’re prodding at me in a different way from before.

  But I want my good mood to keep driving for as long as possible.

  I’ll look at those other things later. I’m in the middle of something
important here.

  So for the sake of her comfort as well as mine, I let my reflection guide my hand into patting at her back. Then, before she has a chance to catch my eye in the mirror, I refocus on Theo.

  Shortly, it seems like she has done the same thing, since she joins me in chortling at Theo trying to tap her feet and do ballet moves at the same time.

  The little dancers really are precious with their toothy smiles, colorful outfits, and tiny ballet shoes. And yep, their energy is all over the place, bouncing off the walls and ceiling and floor whether or not they’re bouncing with it. And yep, they’re hilarious, because they’re young human beings who don’t have great balance or grace or awareness yet.

  In general, they manage to focus better after a few more minutes, but they still do some things backward, occasionally keep doing the wrong thing for many seconds after being patiently corrected, and sometimes they just flat-out stand there. One kid starts picking her nose with one hand while the other keeps up with what she’s supposed to be doing. Another girl is determined to tell her teachers about the ‘catsies’ and ‘dogsies’ her big sister has at home (complete with pointing at the sister in question, who is quietly laughing with their parents).

  Ah, man. If the ballet half of this hour has been lively, what will the tap half be like?

  Cutely chaotic, I’m sure.

  I’m ready for it.

  —

  Well, as great as the rest of Theo’s class was and as much familiar fun as she, Noelle, and I got into afterward, what I clearly haven’t been ready for is looking at Noelle again.

  No matter how well I’ve quieted the pain in the backseat, I’ve had a hard time letting my eyes go her way. Even, or perhaps especially, when it felt like her eyes were back on me.