Chapter 5
Chapter Five
OLIVIA
“All right, class.” Olivia clapped twice. “Let’s go to the barre.”
The gaggle of first grade girls continued to wreak chaos around the room.
Was I ever this little or this free?
They were making funny faces in the mirror, twirling around in their new outfits of ballet pink tights and black leotards. They leapt awkwardly—adorably—and giggled with abandon.
Additional sharp claps did nothing to deter them from their shrieks of laughter as AB wiggled her hips from side to side and attempted a cartwheel.
This was not how Olivia had imagined her first class. She had a whole barre routine for them to go through.
Olivia leaned down to the first little girl, Harper. “Can you do me a big favor and go hold your hand over there?” She gathered the next one with her and shooed her next to Harper. “Hey, AB,” she called. “Can you come help me over here at the barre?”
AB ran like a crab on all fours with two little girls trailing her.
“Let’s put our bubbles in,” Olivia said, puffing out her cheeks. That was her trick she’d used when babysitting preschoolers. They all mimicked her as they stood staring—blessedly—silently.
“Let’s put our right hand on the barre. Your other right,” she said, gently patting an errant hand.
“Let’s blow out our bubbles”—they all let out a dramatic sigh, a few of them giggling—“and now, let’s go to first position.” Olivia set her feet so they formed nearly a straight line side to side.
They silently stared at her with confused faces. The tall one in the back picked her nose.
The nose-picker raised her hand. “Is that like first base?”
Olivia puffed out her own bubble, puffing her bangs away from her face in frustration. Parents who had paid good money for a ballet lesson looked unsure as they peered through the waiting room window.
Ten minutes into the first class and they hadn’t even started the barre routine, the most important part of the warm-up that every ballet class started with, no matter the age.
“Who knows the ballet positions?” Olivia said, raising her hand.
They cocked their heads to the side in confusion.
“I can do a cartwheel,” AB said, cartwheeling away from the barre.
“Thanks, AB. Let’s go back to the barre now,” she said, gently correcting her.
She’d always made sure to be a kind teacher during the summer intensives. Olivia had been called horrible things by every ballet master she’d worked with, but that abuse stopped with her.
She wouldn’t teach by fear, but she did need to teach them something. Their parents were paying, after all.
Olivia mentally pulled up the class schedule. She had planned to start with the barre and then basics of demi plié and tendu.
That was before she realized how unrealistic that was.
Nuke the whole plan. Start from the scratchiest of scratches.
“All right,” she said, rolling her shoulders. I can do this. “Who can count to four?” They all raised their hands.
“Great. We are going to learn four positions today.” She methodically went through all four positions at the barre, with them following her.
Olivia corrected each girl until they were perfect before moving on to the next position. That took approximately twenty-five minutes, and after her correction on the last fourth position, the girls’ attention spans were waning.
Three girls were hanging on the barre like they were monkey bars, and one stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought.
“Are we going to dance?” AB asked sadly.
Olivia looked over her shoulder again at the parents who were whispering to each other.
Shit. Totally screwed this up.
This was a dance class after all, right? What would Georgia do? End on a strong note, and leave them wanting more, darling.
“Sure, let’s dance.” Olivia grabbed her phone that was connected to the ancient speaker in the studio, and two seconds later, “Under the Sea” started pounding through the speakers.
The girls’ faces instantly lit up.
“Let’s have some fun to close it out. Dance out all your feelings,” Olivia said as the girls had already started moving their bodies.
The girls jumped at the barre and then started running around the room, full of the energy that had been so absent two minutes earlier.
“Are you gonna dance, Miss ’Livia?” Sophie asked as she and AB swayed side to side.
Olivia found that she didn’t remember exactly what to do with her body. How did one just dance for fun in a ballet studio?
It wasn’t something she’d had permission to do in a long time.
The girls’ faces lit up as they all danced in a circle, jumping up and down, swaying adorably, not even a little bit gracefully.
It had nothing to do with the first four positions of dance, but they were having fun. It seemed to be important for them to want to come back.
One by one after the class, parents stood at the door as they coaxed their kiddos out of the studio.
Harper’s mom was the second to last to pick her up. “I’m so excited for what you’re going to do at the festival!” she exclaimed to Olivia, holding out a hand for her daughter.
“The…what?” Olivia said, her smile waning.
“You know, the fall festival, the kids always do a nice performance. My older girl was in it last year.”
Uh oh.
Harper’s mom gushed at the memory. “The costumes that Miss Georgia had were adorable. They were all little pumpkins, but of course, one accidentally fell over. It was absolute chaos, but it made for really cute pictures.”
“Right. Pumpkins,” Olivia said, trying to catch up. She had to do a fall festival performance on top of everything else in her life?
She waved Harper and her mom out, and finally it was just her and AB.
AB followed her like a shadow, asking constant questions.
“Will I get to wear toe shoes next time?” she said, hopping up and down, spinning on the flat leather soles of her little ballet slippers.
Olivia wiped down the barre, catching a sticky patch from someone’s candy-covered fingers. “Maybe in a few years if you keep dancing.”
“We didn’t really dance.” AB spun in circles as she talked. “Can we dance more next time?”
“Learning positions at the barre is important if you want to be a ballerina,” Olivia said, sitting down on one of the tumbling mats at the side of the studio.
“I do, I do.” AB hopped around and twirled in front of her.
Luca was running late, it seemed. But Olivia didn’t mind chatting with ballet’s newest number one fan.
AB climbed onto the large stack of tumbling mats. She lay on her tummy, flipping her ballet shoes back and forth. “How long does it take to be a ballerina? I have lots of things I need to do.”
Olivia burst out laughing. “What things? Filing your taxes? Finally getting that timeshare in Boca?”
AB giggled with her. “I’m gonna be a monkey rescuer and I need to be a ballerina. I’m gonna find the first ever unicorn. Then I’m gonna bake cakes like my Aunt Pearl.” She’d listed each one on her fingers, like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders.
“That’s a lot of things, kid.”
She flopped over with dramatic exhaustion. “I know. So I need to dance more,” AB said, as if trying to explain a very simple concept to Olivia.
All right, let’s dance more.
“Name your favorite song, and we’ll dance while we wait for your dad,” Olivia said.
“‘Let It Go,’ but I want the screamy one.”
“…Screamy?” Olivia cocked her head.
“Like German death metal,” AB said with authority.
Olivia rolled her lips together, stifling a laugh. “How do you know what German death metal is?”
“I’m just really smart, I guess,” AB said as she stared at the ceiling.
Olivia typed in “Death metal Let It Go,” and sure enough, there was a great cover. As the screaming rang out, Olivia laughed, and they danced like maniacs in the mirror, jumping and slamming their heads to the guitars and the drums.
It was oddly freeing, screaming and thrashing around.
When the second chorus hit, she looked up from headbanging and jumping in circles with AB and saw that Luca was standing in the doorway of the studio.
“Oh, my gosh.” Olivia gasped in surprise, clutching her chest. She’d been so lost in the music she hadn’t looked up.
He leaned in the doorway with his thick arms crossed and a delighted smile on his lips. He waved at her, but his face lit up when AB saw him and ran toward him.
“Hey, goob.” He caught AB as she flung herself at him.
Olivia was about to turn off the loud music, but she saw AB headbanging like a professional punk rocker in the mirror. Luca joined in, jumping up and down as he mouthed the words and thrashing his arms a little with AB.
Luca looked like an intimidating guy at first. Dark hair and eyes, menacing skulls on his triceps. Until he looked at AB and became a puddle of mush. She loved seeing the glimpse of him switching into dad mode, that soft, sweet side where his eyes lit up.
Olivia turned off the loud music. “Sorry,” she laughed. “We got a little caught up.”
She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he smoothed AB’s hair down. AB chattered up at him about their dancing, and his face practically glowed. AB’s aunt had dropped her off, so this was the first time Olivia had seen him since that morning outside.
His black t-shirt hugged his thick arms, and his gray jeans had streaks of oil on them. His scruff had grown out, and his hair was mussed, like he’d been pulling at it.
Even hotter than I remembered. She filed away the way his chest and arms curved, how big his hands were, the knowing smirk of his smile. The perfect complement to my vibrator tonight.
“Go get your backpack, kiddo,” he said, swatting AB into the hallway to grab her stuff. “Sorry I was late. Ran into cow traffic on the way back from Elliotsville.”
“Were they unmooooved by your car horn?” Olivia said, unable to help herself. She liked seeing him smile.
He bit the inside of his cheek, chuckling at her. The way he stared at her felt like he could see into her soul. Like he was trying to figure her out. “You could say that. Still, I’m sorry. I don’t like being late and I should have planned better.”
She waved him away as AB joined them. “Oh, it’s fine. We had fun.” She could feel him getting ready to say goodbye as AB put her jacket on. Something inside her begged, Please don’t go. Please stay. I like it when you’re here.
Like a sixth sense that felt better when he was around.
“We can walk you to your car?” he offered. AB’s tiny hand was now enveloped in his, and the sight made her want to cry.
She’s so little and he’s so big, but so gentle. Don’t tear up. Ohmygod, am I about to get my period or something?
She shook her head and grabbed toe shoes out of her bag by the door. “Now my work starts, unfortunately.” She held up the shoes by their ribbons, already sewn and broken in from her practice yesterday.
Olivia sat down, pulling on her shoes and lacing the ribbons around her foot and ankle.
AB’s eyes lit up. “Can I stay and watch?”
Luca’s eyes closed as if to say, I’m sorry. “Let’s leave Miss Olivia so she can focus. We gotta go to Pearl and Reed’s anyway for dinner.”
AB’s face fell. “Just for one minute? Please?”
Olivia stood up, toe shoes now laced, and slowly rolled to her toes. AB’s eyes lit up at the magic of seeing her hover on tiptoe.
Almost makes the dull pain worth it.
“I wish all my audiences were as excited as you.”
AB tugged hard on her dad’s hand. “Please!”
“Just one warm-up routine?” Olivia asked Luca, now on AB’s side.
“You guys are ganging up on me now?” He laughed in surprise. “Sure, but then we’ll get out of your hair.”
Olivia turned the music to her favorite warm-up track and danced gently, moving through positions that felt like home, doing what her body needed to start to warm up.
Developpé, pique, into pirouette. The Chopin melody got faster and more exciting.
She danced and moved in her own world, enjoying the feeling of finally expressing all the things that had been trapped inside her body that day.
A running grand jeté, leading into a lingering arabesque, then turn and turn and turn.
She jumped and extended one limb, then another, letting all her feelings out—frustration, need, anger, joy.
She finished in fourth position as the music ended, her heart finally connected with her body.
And with a roar that would rival Wimbledon Stadium, an enormous, tattooed man and a little girl wearing her backpack became Olivia’s smallest, loudest audience ever.