Page 72 of Surviving the Merge
“I did it. I did it! I really did it this time, Mr. Justin.”
I joined in on Debbie’s jubilation at nailing the triple pirouette. It wasn’t perfect, but Rome wasn’t built in a day. “Yes, you did, sweetie.” I’d been staying late after our scheduled classes to help some of the kids one on one that were struggling. Today was Debbie’s turn.
I spotted Pete standing outside the door watching. “Hey Deb, looks like your brother’s waiting for you. Why don’t you go get changed so you can head home?”
“Okay, fine.” She sauntered off, looking extremely put-out.
“She’d stay here and dance all day if we let her,” I said. Pete didn’t respond.
“You did great today. You’re one of my strongest dancers. How long have you been dancing?” Crickets.
“It’s almost time to pick the leads for the fundraiser show. Would you be interested? For this, I’d have to hold auditions. I don’t want anyone to think I have favorites. However, I’m confident that you’ll surpass my expectations.” That seemed to ignite a spark in his hazel eyes.
“You are?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
“Definitely. Why would that surprise you?” I asked. He came into the room, and I remained seated on the mats, going through my stretches as if I didn’t notice.
“Well, um, I guess because no one thinks I’m great at anything. Except making their lives complicated.” Pete shrugged one shoulder, looking anywhere but at me. “Four.”
Finally, glancing my way and seeing my confusion, he clarified. “I’ve been dancing since I was four.”
“That explains why you’re so good.”
“A bunch of kids here have been dancing since they were little.” This time, he gave a two-shoulder shrug and became fascinated with the wall. “It’s no big deal,” he said.
“Some people dance because they were forced to, some because they find it fun. Others may even dance because there’s nothing else to do, so why not? But not everyone wasbornto dance, Pete. Not like you.”
His cheeks brightened, and he ducked his head to hide his smile. I wondered, and not for the first time, who worked so hard to dim Pete’s light?
Shouting in her singsong-y way, Debbie entered the room. “I’m readyyyy, Ni—.”
“It’s Pete,” he said, sharply.
I couldn’t see his face any longer, but the red creeping up the back of his neck exposed his embarrassment.
“I’m sorry. I forget sometimes,” she said, chastised, head bowed. Then, squaring her shoulders and placing her tiny fists on her hips. “I’m just a little girl, you know.” Her bottom lip jutted out.
Pete’s shoulders relaxed after a second of being faced with her anger. “I know. I’m sorry for snapping at you.” He ruffled her hair. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
“Bye, Mr. Justin.” She waved before slipping her hand into Pete’s.
Alone, I fell back on the mat and sprawled out my limbs, giving free rein for the sadness to take over me.
* * *
A caralready sat in the driveway of the Chadwick house when I arrived there from the center, so I parked on the curb and hopped out, jogging up the porch steps to get inside. The door was unlocked. With hesitant steps, I entered the house, closing the door behind me.
“In here,” a deep voice called from down the hall.
A man sat at the head of the dinning table. From the way he pored through the papers in front of him, I guessed it was Blake.The divorce papers.
“Already?” I asked, moving into the room.
“Already,” he confirmed, standing to welcome me into his arms.
“Mmmm, I’ve missed you.” I kissed the corner of his mouth.
“You saw me this morning,” he laughed.
