Page 39 of Because of Her

Ballet dancing and art were my two great loves through school. I heard about the ballet exhibit and have thought about going. It felt awkward taking myself though, and Amira’s not interested. I don’t blame her, art isn’t for everyone, but it means the exhibit is still on my to do list.

I’m torn between wanting to go, and not being ready to spend time with Callum, let alone his daughter. As I collapse on the bed, I try to weigh up the pros and cons, but find my mind blank. I need to reply, to let Callum know either way, but I get stuck, lying on the bed. Time escapes me as I allow myself to feel every battling emotion.

A knock sounds, jolting me out of my trance. I stand up too quickly, blood rushes from my head and my vision goes black.

“Coming,” I call out while I wait for the stars to fall so I can regain my balance.

When I throw open the door, my vision darkens again and I have to lean on the wall to keep my balance.

“Hi,” a tiny voice calls out.

I stare down at Maisie, incapable of forming words. She’s wearing a grey, hooded jumper over a dress with a rainbow tutu skirt and black leggings. The huge pink bow is still attached to the side of her head, and I wonder if she sleeps with it in.

“My daddy said you like ballerinas, too.” She swings her arms as she talks, and I notice the soft ballerina doll in one hand. It’s cute, and only a little bit daunting.

I glance up at Callum standing behind her, unsure how to interact with a child. He folds his arms across his chest, a small smile on his lips.

“I … ah …” I start, but Callum interrupts me.

“Come on, Maisie,” he says, catching hold of her free hand and tugging gently. “We should go to the museum.”

She plants her feet, refusing to move.

“Wait,” she says to her dad before turning up to me. “Do you like ballerinas? Because you can come with us if you do.”

Her arm stops swinging as she cuddles her doll close.

She’s cute, and somehow convincing. I look to Callum for confirmation.

“As long as I’m welcome?”

He nods as Maisie starts jumping and cheering.

“I need five minutes, okay?”

“Go.” Callum gestures back into the apartment, and I rush back towards my room.

Pulling my hoodie off, I grab a baggy knit sweater instead. The quickest fix for my still wet hair is a messy bun, so I assemble it with a claw clip before swiping some concealer under my eyes. It does little to hide the purple tonethat has settled over the past few days, but allows me a hint of confidence.

I glance at the mirror, ready to head back out, when I hear laughter from the hallway. Maisie’s high pitched giggle blends with Callum’s deeper rumble. The sound exudes joy, but to me, it serves only as a reminder of the situation.

As anxious butterflies settle in my stomach, I grab a lavender oil roller and slip on my spin ring before rushing out to meet them.

We spend the car ride listening to Taylor Swift and I swallow down the pit growing in my throat. My mind racing between worst case scenarios and reminding myself that Callum and I are just friends. Callum either appreciates I need the time, or is too busy juggling his focus between the road and his daughter to talk. He reaches to the back seat often, to pass snacks, pick up the dropped ballerina and collect rubbish.

I’m starting to think this whole excursion was a mistake when we pull into the museum car park. Huge posters of the display light up the dim underground garage, reminding me of how much I wanted to come. It’s not the place that’s the issue, it’s the company. Half of the company. The tiny half.

Still unsure how to act around a five year old I’ve barely met, I remain silent as we enter the building.

Callum leans across his daughter’s head, speaking softly. “You can go do your own thing if it’s too much.”

“Thank you,” I reply, certain I’ll take him up on the offer as soon as we get inside the exhibit.

I lag behind Callum and his daughter as we walk through the dark entrance corridor. She wraps her arm around hisleg as the lighting dims and I notice he slows his pace so she can keep up.

It’s subtle, but sweet. Leaning down, he stretches his arm behind her head to place a hand on her shoulder. I rub my palm over my sternum, willing away the unusual, molten feeling rising towards my throat.

I linger, watching as they walk, linked together, further down the corridor, imagining how I would look as part of the picture before me.

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