Chapter 34
The elegance of dance is that it’s art in the human form.
We have so many ways to tell stories, but the ones we show with our movements require no words.
When my dad took me to my first ballet, he said he didn’t understand what was happening, but I did.
It was like reading a book, watching them Pas de Bourrée across the stage.
Their movement spelled out the words of love, heartbreak, and jealousy.
I watched the rise and fall of the plot with each lift and turn.
The music’s thrum in the background was the undertone of the theme.
Even now, as I watch five-year-olds try to follow my steps, I see the journey they are taking me on. The journey that I am leading them to. Their tiny little feet show who they are, and where they want to go.
Teaching this workshop is like seeing the start of my own path, and somehow, the idea of coming back to it doesn’t feel like it’s ending.
“Good job, guys,” I call out, running around giving them high fives.
They jump up and giggle, breaking free from the discipline they just showed the last hour.
Their parents come and thank me, gushing about how well the kids did.
Hearing myself being called Madame Monty shifts something inside of me.
“Well done,” Madame Genvieve says while clapping.
She watched the whole thing from the back of the room, her eyes on me instead of the kids.
“Thank you.” I wipe the sweat from my brow, still adjusting to the effort of moving again. She walks me out, and we discuss meeting up in the new year to talk. The whole time, I can’t stop smiling.
I go right to Callahan’s and my place. I have been living there since my party. From the day I brought all my stuff in, it felt right. The same way that he has always felt right. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.
I throw my bag by the door and make my way into the bedroom. He has his stuff all over the bed as he packs.
“My sweet, sweet mechanic, guess what?”
He tries to pull me into his arms, but I fight back. I’m too sweaty. He doesn’t seem to care as he kisses up and down my slick neck.
“Callahan!”
“Mhm,” he says against my throat. I swat at him until he finally lets go.
I sit on the floor, not wanting to get on the bed like this. He slides down across from me. Stuck between the frame and the wall, our knees are touching, and our hands are holding on to each others.
“I’m going to buy it.”
His eyes light up, and before I can say anything else, I’m pulled into his lap.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m done. I’m walking away from the stage.”
“Are you okay with that?”
This last year has been me fighting the truth I knew all along.
I love to dance, but I no longer want to dance for other people.
Every moment where it has just been me dancing for the fun of it has felt as special as it did when I was first learning it all.
I needed this wake-up call and break to reconnect with my passion.
Somewhere along the way, I lost the part of myself that danced just for the joy of it. For years now, it’s been about dancing for acclaim and recognition. I became a different person than who I was at the start.
This whole time, I’ve been fighting to get back to that version of myself, all while knowing it was gone. It’s time to lay who I was to rest and embrace this new era in my life.
“I don’t know why I thought not dancing on stage meant I never got to dance again, but just because no one’s watching doesn’t mean it’s not still beautiful. I don’t need the applause anymore. I just need the music.” Which I can hear again. Every melody and beat is as clear as my own thoughts.
He wraps his arms around me and pulls me tight to his chest.
“I’m so happy for you, love.”
“So that means you are okay with me living here permanently?”
His smile is infectious as it peels across his face. He yells his joy and then lifts us both, throwing me on top of his clothes. By the time he is done expressing his answer, I’m more sweaty than I was before, and we have to do laundry.
A week later, we are in Boston for Christmas.
Stepping out of the airport, my dad instantly shivers and pulls his jacket tighter around himself.
The way he looks at me shows his regret, but I point to the snowflakes floating down, and a little bit of it wanes as interest takes over.
This is his first time seeing this much snow in person, and I know, like me, he can’t wait to take in the winter wonderland.
We both stare in awe out the window as we drive to Callahan’s family’s house.
We were going to get a hotel, but they insisted that we stay with them.
Mary went as far as to say she would be offended if we didn’t.
Their being Catholic means that Callahan will be staying at Finn’s while my dad and I stay at their place.
Which I think my dad approves of as well.
Just like last time, they see us before we even get through the gate and come running out of the house.
They hug me as tightly as they do Rowan and Callahan, and my dad happily shakes all of their hands.
Cormac offers him a beer, and they are off in the living room while the rest of us gather in the small kitchen.
I notice that Cormac doesn’t hug Callahan like he does everyone else. Callahan’s face falls, but he tries to keep his smile up for his family.
“So, my boy won your heart then,” Mary says to me while bringing over a hot toddy.
“Yes, he did. I couldn’t have gotten through this year without him.”
“Sorry about that, dear. When we heard, we were heartbroken for you. I hope you got the basket I sent.”
I tell her I did, and Quinn jumps in to say that she helped.
“You were in our prayers, and Callahan was giving us constant updates. Now that you two are together, I’d better be hearing from you as well.” Mary comes over and runs a hand down my hair until she gets to my cheek.
Pinching it a little, she pats it and then kisses where her hand was. The gesture is so motherly that something blossoms in my chest in the hole that my own mother left. I embrace it, letting it help me heal.
“Believe me, I will be in contact constantly,” I say.
“Good, then go ahead and call me Ma.”
I smile and eagerly agree.
We talk about my recovery journey a little bit more. I’m more comfortable discussing the diagnosis now that I’m through it. Even though I’m still trying to determine what normal is.
After we talk, I help Mary and Rowan with dinner.
While we cook and laugh, we can hear our dads doing the same in the living room.
This house is filled with so much love that you can’t help but feel welcomed in it.
I know I do, and I’m looking forward to coming back to this every year.
Talking about the future only solidifies that.
“You’re going to have to learn to make colcannon, that’s Callahan’s favorite. Don’t worry, it’s easy,” Mary says.
“I was actually thinking, if it’s okay, that I would make some of my family’s dishes for Christmas as well.
Maybe some mac and cheese and collard greens.
” I smile up at her while continuing to stir the stew.
If this is my forever, then I need to make sure our cultures blend.
Especially for my dad, to show him how it should be.
“I would love that! Wouldn’t you love that, Rowan?”
“I know I would,” Declan says, looking up from his book.
We plan out how the cooking will go that day while we finish up.
After setting dinner on the table, we all sit and pray. My dad watches them talking to each other with bright eyes. The chaos of them all yelling as they try and get their word in fills the room in a way that he has never experienced before.
“Don’t mind us, Darrel, we are a rowdy bunch,” Cormac says, looking around at his family.
“It’s nice. It’s almost always just been me and Monty. This is the most people we have ever had dinner with.”
“We had to get the table custom-built to fit all of us and extras,” Mary says.
“You’ll need more now that we’re having kids.
You know me and Callahan want six, and I’m already two in,” Finn says, holding up his new baby.
His wife and I both stare at him like he is crazy.
Callahan and him high-five before they grab their women and plant a kiss on them.
I can’t stop laughing even while pushing him away.
“I wouldn’t be mad at that,” my dad says.
Cormac only looks at Finn and smiles, and I can feel Callahan tense up next to me. I grab his hand to remind him that I’m here, and that someone sees he’s enough.
They all start planning all of our futures, and I don’t know who looks more terrified, me or Declan. Connor looks excited, and Quinn indifferent. I can see in Rowan that she wants that too.
As much as the idea of having that many damn kids seems like the worst idea, the possibility of having a family like this feels tempting.
When dinner is done, I show my dad outside to their backyard. As he looks around, I grab a snowball and whip it at him. Like I did last year, he looks horrified, until he is scooping his own handful and throwing it back at me.
Our screams and laughter have the others running out, and soon we are in an all-out big fight with a bunch of people.
Seeing the way the corners of my dad’s eyes crinkle and his cheeks pull tight, I can’t help but love them even more for giving this to him. For giving it to us.
We spend the rest of the night in this joy, talking, laughing, and just basking in one another’s presence. This is my family now, and I plan to make sure that they know how important they are to me. Especially Callahan.