Page 20 of The Space Between

Jo cuts her off. “Frank, I don’t think so,” she says. “I mean, maybe men find her appealing—I can’t speak to that—but I think she’s just a nice girl. I like her.”

Frankie shrugs. “Well, go ahead like her if you want, but keep your eye on her. She’d look awfully cute next to an astronaut.” She lifts her cigarette to her lips and inhales. On an exhale, she tips her head at Vicki. “That one, though,” she says, “is nothing but trouble.”

Jo can’t argue with this. “I think she seems…” Jo trails off, looking for something nice to say about the older woman. “Okay, yeah, she seems like trouble.”

The women giggle together, and Frankie is leaning her sweat-slicked bare shoulder against Jo’s conspiratorially when Carrie comes over to them.

“What’s up, girls?” Carrie asks, sipping a glass of lemonade.

Jo takes Frankie’s cigarette from her and sneaks a quick puff; they generally have a cigarette or two while they’re on their evening walks, but Jo never smokes otherwise, and certainly not in the presence of her children.

“We’re clocking the competition,” Frankie says.

Carrie, a woman who is not given to any sort of artifice, turns to glance at them. “That Vicki is a hoot. She’s like a caricature of a middle-aged divorcee on the prowl. Fun though,” she adds nonchalantly. “And she’s got stories. Did you hear her talking about the time she accepted a date with a photographer in Chicago, fell asleep in his car, and woke up in Pittsburgh?”

Jo is stunned; this kind of behavior is entirely foreign to her. “I can’t even imagine it.”

Carrie clicks her unpolished nails against her glass. “I don’t judge,” she says firmly, lowering her voice. “Before I met Jay, I was dating a jazz musician and I can assure you, I saw somethingswhenever I went to his shows and then out with the band afterwards.”

It’s funny; Jo hasn’t really imagined her new friends’ lives before they’d arrived in Stardust Beach, and for some reason, it surprises her that Carrie had dated a musician. All she can see her as is Jay’s wife. As Marcus and Christina’s mom. She knows a fair amount about Frankie’s life, of course, but it’s easy to forget that they were all other people before they became wives and mothers.

The doorbell rings then and Jo lets Dave Huggins in. He's toting a camera and a flash. "I'll just nose around and grab the shots I want," he assures the women. "I want you to pretend I'm not even here, alright?"

"Done," Jo says. "And please help yourself to anything you want. We have plenty of food here--enough to feed a small army."

Dave lifts a hand and heads out into the yard. The women continue their conversation like there'd been no interruption.

“Hey,” Carrie says, looking at Frankie. “How are things at Mia Perla?”

Frankie had opened her own dance studio, Mia Perla, in downtown Stardust Beach earlier in the year, and now she stays busy nearly every day teaching tap, jazz, and ballet to the children in the area.

“You know,” Frankie says, leaning over to put out her cigarette in the ashtray that Jo has helpfully set on a small table on the patio. “It’s been incredible. I love seeing the kids come in excited to try something new. And Christina is quite the little ballerina,” she adds, glancing at Carrie’s six-year-old daughter as she plays with Jo’s youngest, Kate. “She’s good at taking direction.”

Carrie beams with pride. “Oh, thank you! She loves it. Every day she asks me, ‘Do I go to Miss Frankie’s today?’”

“That’s sweet,” Frankie says, folding her arms across her chest. “I love it. It’s given my life a whole new sense of purpose, if I’m being honest. And I’m starting two classes for adults, though of course I don’t have as many people signed up for those yet.”

“Ballet for grown ups?” Carrie asks, tilting her ear towards her shoulder. “I’m the most graceless person I know. Maybe I should join and work on my posture and movements. Do you think I’m too old to learn how to prance like a cat instead of stomp like an elephant?”

“Never,” Frankie says. “It’s never too late to start to learn about how you hold your body in the surrounding space, and to change how you move and breathe.”

“Breathe?” Carrie asks with a frown. “Am I breathing wrong?”

“Maybe,” Frankie says. “We work on breathing in and out slowly, and with intention. You might find that it helps you in other parts of your life, too. Like, when the kids are on your last nerve and you have a kitchen to clean, you can apply the slow, intentional breathing of a ballerina and bring yourself to an elevated place.”

“Whoa.” Carrie looks impressed. “Okay. Maybe I should try it.” She turns to Jo. “I’d beg you to join me for moral support, but between the hospital and your writing, I doubt you have a moment to spare!”

Jo is about to protest and say that, sure, she’d like to try grown up ballet too, but she realizes that Carrie is right. “At the moment, I do seem to have my hands pretty full.”

As if on cue, Kate jumps out of the pool and comes rushing towards Jo, dripping water all over the concrete as she does. “Mommy! Mommy!” she shouts. “Can Christina and I help the daddies set off fireworks?”

Frankie chuckles as Jo and Carrie swoop in to explain to their daughters why little girls aren’t allowed to play with explosives. Jo goes inside to find extra towels for the kids who have managed to get almost every single one sopping wet, and once the door closes behind her, she basks there in the silence for a moment, glad for the barrier between her and all the excitement outside.

As she stands there in her kitchen, looking at the half-eaten platters and bowls of food on her table, Jo feels a rush of joy. When they’d left Minnesota for Stardust Beach, she’d thought she was leaving behind friends and parties and true happinessforever; she’d been so sure that this new place would never feel like home. But now here she is, a year later, surrounded by people she likes and cares about. Her husband is happy, her kids are happy, and she feels happy. She’s really and truly happy.

The moment lasts for nearly a full minute as Jo puts lids on things and sets covers over open dishes to keep them fresh. The kids are laughing happily outside, and she can hear the muted chatter of the adults, who are obviously enjoying the party. She’s looking at everything with a small smile on her face, feeling pleased.

And then the phone rings.

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