I’ve been on a lot of stages.
There was the second season of Dance Blitz, the flat stage, when I stormed on unannounced.
There was the short third season. One prerecorded show and four live ones after they built that stage out to be larger and have two levels edged in neon.
I danced on eight different stages during our tour. Chicago, Boston, Baltimore, New York, Miami, Houston, LA, and Seattle. Some were bigger than others. Some fancier. Some historic. Some new.
But this stage is the one that matters.
I learned to dance on this stage.
I taught Blitz Craven, the most famous dancer in all of the country, to do a grand jeté on this stage.
I had my first recital here.
And today, I’m dancing with him in front of my daughter.
The kids form a circle around us, taking up the corners and leaving the center clear. It’s less space than we’re used to, but we can make do.
Because the fact is, together, Blitz and I can do anything.
We’ve come too far for me not to believe that.
The music begins, and the kids clap to the beat. We start strong as I run and leap into Blitz’s arms and he launches me into the air.
I scissor above him and turn so that he can catch me. We’re much braver now after doing aerial silks. This is nothing.
He slides me to the floor, and for a moment we tango, then move into a contemporary jitterbug. He spins me, I turn, then slide between his legs. I stop just inches from a ten-year-old boy from Jacob’s class and kiss him on the cheek. He claps his hand to his face.
Then I’m back at Blitz. We’re making it up as we go now, having only had time to work out the opening moves. But I know him. He knows me. We dance like other people have conversation.
The song is coming to a close, and I know he’ll want to end dramatically. So I leap away from him to prepare for another pass at a lift.
He holds his hands and arms in a position I know. It’s how we communicate, in gestures and angles. I run toward him and jump as I get near. He grabs my feet and launches me up again. This time I turn and come down horizontally. He catches me and dips me, head near the floor. As the music ends with three pounding notes, we hold our position.
The kids jump to their feet.
By the time he sets me down, we’re surrounded, children holding on to my legs, hanging on to Blitz. Danika comes out, but instead of speaking into the microphone she holds, she passes it to Blitz.
The kids don’t leave us, but sit right where we stand.
Blitz takes my hand.
“Livia Mason,” he says, his breathing still rapid, and maybe with a small waver in it. I immediately clasp his fingers harder, wondering what has gotten him shaken up. “We met right here at Dreamcatcher Dance Academy!”
There are cheers then, led by the other dance teachers, and the kids quickly follow their lead. We have to wait a moment for it to die down.
“It’s been an entire year now, and I think everybody in the world has wondered why I’ve waited so long.”
He drops to one knee.
Now I get it. His nervousness. The dance. The kids all around us.
I look at him, his hair sticking to his forehead, the blue of his shirt making his eyes stand out, his black hair gleaming. My Blitz. My Benjamin. My love.
“I know a famous ballerina like yourself may not find an out-of-work dancer like me a great catch,” he says. The audience laughs.
“But if you’ll have me, it would be the greatest honor of my life if you would be my wife.” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing before he goes on. “Will you marry me?”
One of the boys near him nudges him and says, “You better have a ring.” There is more laughter.
Blitz fumbles with the microphone and reaches in his pocket. A ring box wouldn’t fit in those pants, no way, but it’s just the ring. A diamond, princess cut of course, the rectangle as wide as my finger and surrounded by blue gems the exact color of that first leotard I wore just for him. Like today.
I try to answer and find my voice isn’t quite working, so I just nod for yes.
The cheers are tremendous and it feels like the roof will lift right off. Blitz slides the ring on my finger and stands up to take me in his arms.
His kiss is warm and tender and full of promise. To have and to hold. Till death do us part. I can feel the words as if he’s saying them.
When he finally lets us go, I find the wheelchair ballerinas have pushed their way to the center. We hug each of them. When I get to Gabriella, I keep my embrace as close to the others as I can, but I breathe her in, the strawberry shampoo, the hair spray, the little girl I remember.
When I look out in the audience, I spot my brother running forward. My mom holds out her arm, unable to stop him. I catch her eyes and she shrugs. She wipes the corner of her eye.
Then he’s up with us, my baby brother, Andy, and we’re hugging. The teachers walk up to lead the children off the stage. Danika takes the microphone to thank everyone for coming.
It’s all a fog, the sound, the lights, the movement.
Gwen comes onstage to get Gabriella and our gazes meet for just a moment. She keeps a tight smile as she pushes Gabriella away.
I got to see her. I will see her. She isn’t lost.
My mom comes up and watches me gaze after them.
“That’s her, isn’t it?” she asks.
I nod.
“She looks exactly like you,” Mom says.
“Who does? Who does?” Andy asks.
“Just one of the dancers,” I say. “She has the same color hair as me.”
Andy is not impressed by this and takes my hand. “Can we go get ice cream?” he asks. “Can I have sprinkles?”
Blitz ruffles his hair. “As long as Mom says it’s all right, that sounds like a perfect plan.”
I glance out at the rapidly emptying recital hall. For a moment I catch a glimpse of a man by the door and swear it is my father.
But then he’s gone, and Blitz is leading the four of us down the stairs to the seats. I don’t even know if it was him.
“How did you know to come?” I ask Mom.
“Benjamin called,” she says. She tugs a phone out of her bag, a new one. “He gave me our own special way to communicate back in Houston.” She sticks it back in her bag. “Your dad knows about it.”
I shove my shoulder against Blitz’s. “You and your surprise phones.”
“It’s my only party trick,” he says.
Before we pass through the exit doors, I turn back to look at the empty stage. The lights are still up, and the velvet curtains are open, stirring slightly in the current of air from the vents.
I never imagined this would be my life. That it would start someplace like this.
But Dreamcatcher has been the place where I discovered who I could be, that best self that was waiting for one thing. For me to believe in her.
Mom and Andy have walked ahead, but Blitz waits for me, looking where I look. If anyone understands, it’s him. He drapes his arm across my shoulders.
“Good things happen here,” he says.
I lean in close, my head resting on his shoulder. The light sparkles through the new ring on my finger.
“The best things happen here,” I say.
And I believe they have only just begun.