Page 33 of A Dark Duet

I’m invisible. The only way I know I’m here is if I dance. Dance brought me here, not me. The real me, he doesn’t know. The real Nate, he will not let me know. The question is, why?

The morning light streams through the window of the bedroom, and I wake up and get ready before he knocks on the bedroom door. Once I get to the kitchen and find a light breakfast, I take a seat to wait for Nate.

I’m eating a strawberry when he comes in dressed in a matching hoodie and sweatpants. The hoodie has the Grim Reaper on it and I realize it fits his personality. I’m ready in a leotard under my black windbreaker and my hair in a messy bun on top of my head. I slide off the stool, grab my small bag with my phone as I watch him with a serious expression, it’s as if he had the worst night ever.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

He sounds annoyed with me asking and doesn’t even make eye contact. I am taken aback by his strange mood. I remember him telling me he is not a morning person, so I follow him at a distance with a protein shake in one hand, not saying a word.

He grabs his keys to walk outside to his car. We reach the white supercar, and he stays silent, not looking at me. I decide to leave him be. I slide into the car and look out the window as he drives toward his gym. We stay silent until we reach the parking lot. I decide to ask, not knowing what I should do next.

“Um, do I—”

We are out of his car, and I follow him, stiffening, he turns toward me, making me stop mid-stride, almost running into him.

He points over to a dance studio in the corner building “The dance studio is over there and some of the younger sisters of the boys sit and watch the other kids that have parents pay for lessons.”

“Okay,” I say as I squint over in the direction of the dance studio, where I can see three little girls standing at the window to watch what is going on inside.

“I told Lenora about you, so you can go, and I will be inside. I have training,” he says curtly and walks inside the gym, leaving me standing outside alone.

What is his problem? I can’t remember what I did wrong. One moment he wants me here with him and the next, my presence annoys him.

He didn’t even walk with me to introduce me or anything. It’s like he wants me to disappear. I think I made a mistake in coming here with him, but I’m here and we are just friends. I walk up to open the door to see a class being given by an older woman with fifteen girls, ranging from seven to about thirteen.

I see the three little girls watching with excitement and longing in their eyes, watching the other girls in their cute little ballerina outfits.

“Can I help you?” The older woman comes over, eyeing me.

“Yes, Nate told me to come over. He said he mentioned me. Are you Lenora? My name is Giselle.”

“Ah, yes. He mentioned you. He says you’re a very talented dancer from Sioux Falls.”

“I guess you could say that, but not really.”

She continues to look me over. “Sweetheart, you’re not just a dancer. I’d bet my dance studio you’re a ballerina with your figure and tone.”

My face flushes and she can see that she figured me out.

“Let me see.” She waves me inside to the main room where the young girls are listening to our conversation, waiting eagerly.

“I have a special request.”

“What is that, dear?” She raises a thin arched brow.

“The three girls over there get lessons, and I’m willing to pay for them. How much is the rest of your season?” I ask.

I know the feeling of wanting to dance at that age, and those are little girls who are probably in the foster care system.

“If it’s okay with Nate. He would have to get signed permission for all three young girls, and it’s twelve hundred each. There can only be one sibling in the program, so that is why they can’t join,” she says.

I look over at the three young angelic faces, one blonde about five years old, one brunette about nine years old, and one about ten years old. Their eyes light up, hoping they can get the same lessons as the other girls looking at me like I have lost my mind. I take out my debit card and know I will have to make up the money, but I don’t care. I can’t sit here and dance with this woman while three young girls who have nothing sit there and watch. I just can’t.

“Here, charge your fee on my card,” I say. She widens her eyes as she takes my card to ring me up.

“All three?” she asks.

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