After church on the Sunday after Thanksgiving, Mindy immediately pulls me away from my family, saying we’re needed to organize the avalanche of holiday decorations Irma has pulled from storage. Her mother has packed a lunch for us to eat in the office, and I’m surprised to see how well she planned to get me away from home.
My parents, who have seen me cooped up in my room for an entire week, actually think it’s good for once for me to get out. So soon I’m left in the church sanctuary with Mindy and a dozen boxes of Christmas decor.
Irma pops in to say she has her weekly ladies’ lunch, but that Father Stephen will be in and out.
As soon as we’re alone and have enough garlands and white Chrismons around us to be respectable, Mindy pulls out her phone.
I hold up my hand. “I’m not sure I want to see anything,” I say. “Those clips you sent before were plenty.”
She sets it down. “But he got his show back.”
I open a new box and start untangling a string of lights. “During the contract meeting on Monday?” I ask.
“So he has been writing you!” She shoves at me. “Why haven’t you written me back?”
“I took the phone out one time to check on him. Once I saw the clips, I had to stop.”
Mindy frowns. “Well, the live finale is scheduled for December. He is choosing the winner during it.”
I shrug. I figured that would be the case. “He didn’t think he would propose,” I say. “Just be a dance partner.”
“So there’s still a chance for you two?”
I shake my head. “He’s in LA now. I am here. It’s done.”
Mindy sets her phone down. “Are you okay, Livia? This is tough stuff.”
“We didn’t get anywhere,” I tell her. When she looks crushed, I manage a smile. “I’ll never be able to find out if they sleep with him because of who he is or if he’s any good.”
Mindy opens a box and pulls out a plastic Baby Jesus. She holds him up and shakes him as if he is talking when she says, “Good thing, since I was watching the whole time!”
I pull out the Virgin Mary. “Go to sleep, Baby Jesus! It’s past your bedtime.”
We dissolve into laughter.
And just like that, we’re back to who we used to be. Two sheltered girls being silly, trying to make the best of our situation.
Blitz is in the past.
I head up to the academy early on Tuesday so I can get in some ballet practice before Gabriella’s class. Danika said my assessment would be sometime this week. I’ve done stretches and strengthening at home, but now I need to be at the barre.
It’s a little surreal walking into Dreamcatcher, almost as if Blitz could be here somewhere. He became such a fixture in the weeks he was here. I can’t help myself, but instead of going directly to dance, I pass the empty studios and head into the storage room.
The ghostly racks and supply shelves are no different. I pick up the top hat he wore and place it on my head. I run my hand down the wall where he kissed me. This is hard. As hard as anything I’ve done other than letting go of Gabriella.
But I still have her. She’s here. And she’s why I won’t go away to college. Why I’ll stay.
I set the hat back on the shelf and head to a studio. If there is anything that can get me out of my melancholy, it’s dance.
I avoid Studio 4 where I always met Blitz and choose Studio 2 instead. The room is bright and colorful. I run through my exercises and imagine what it will feel like to relevé in a toe shoe, extending higher than I ever have before.
Danika pops in and gives me a few pointers, lifting my back leg and squeezing along my calves. We roll my feet over and over, and she leaves me to do it more, as that will be the first motion I take in the new shoes, if I pass.
She leaves the door open, so I hear the rumble of students arriving before the lights even flicker for the transition. I pick up my string bag and head to Studio 3 for our class.
The girls are chatty and excited, seeing each other for the first time since the video came out. They circle around each other.
“Where’s Benjamin?” Daisy asks when I enter.
I don’t have the heart to tell them he’s gone for good, so I leave it to Janel to break the news. They sit glumly for a while, so Janel passes out the ribbon sticks, a tactic that gets any group of kids excited and happy.
We circle the room in a conga line, me helping push the girls who can’t easily move with only one hand. It’s funny and awkward with me and Janel racing between chairs, and before long the girls are cheerful and ready to work.
If only I could soak in some of their joy.
I roll up the ribbon sticks while they run through the recital, remembering when I did this with Blitz, the day he taught me to waltz. I’m having the worst time today, unable to think about anything but him. The hardest part is knowing I can relent. I can pick up the phone he gave me and text him. I’d still be in his life. It’s just so little. And he has so much going on. All those women.
At some point in my life I want to have more than just scraps.
The class finally ends and the girls head out with their mothers. I watch Gabriella with Gwen. If my baby had to have another mother, I’m glad it is her. She cares. She is careful. She pays attention.
Apparently a cold front has blown in while we were in class, so the moms wrap the girls in jackets and blankets, anything they have in the car. It will be a cold walk home for me in my leotard. Maybe I’ll run.
I change shoes and cross the foyer. Every space has an image of Blitz associated with it. I decide that I’ll write him one last time, after my assessment when I earn my toe shoes. He’ll be happy about that. Contacting him will be my reward.
Thinking about this gives me a bit of joy to hold on to as the frigid air hits me outside the academy. The temperature has dropped at least twenty degrees and the wind feels icy.
I hurry along the sidewalk, my arms wrapped tightly around my body. Good Lord, it’s cold.
By the time I get to the park, my nose is running. I pray I don’t get sick. We’ll have to delay my pointe assessment if I do.
My head is down, so I don’t notice the red car until I’m right beside it.
I stop short.
It’s a Ferrari.
I peer in the window. The inside is empty.
A heavy wool coat comes around me, and I whirl around.
It’s Blitz.
I’m so happy to see him that I almost lose the coat as I throw my arms around him. He draws it around both of us, holding me tightly against his warm body.
“Just like a princess to run around expecting people to bring you a coat,” he says.
I can’t even speak. I just press my face into his shoulder, trying not to weep. He’s here. He’s here. He’s here. Everything I’ve just promised myself about not settling dissolves in the light of his actual presence.
“Let’s get you in the car,” he says. “Can you spare a little time without getting in trouble?”
I nod. We walk together to the car and he opens the door. “Keep the coat on,” he says. “Texas weather sure does change on a dime.”
The car is still clean. There’s a fresh McDonald’s cup in the console, which makes me smile.
Blitz gets in. He’s wearing jeans and a deep green sweater that makes his hair seem black as night. I can’t do anything more than take him in.
“I knew you’d be walking this way after the dance class,” he says. “I could only hope you hadn’t gotten so stuck that your parents didn’t allow you to go anymore. Did they take your phone? I’ve been writing you and writing you.”
I don’t know what to say. That I got the messages and didn’t respond? That it was pointless?
A woman and her dog pass by, and I startle, petrified it will be my mother trying to bring me a coat. It could happen. “Let’s get away from here,” I say. I’ve gotten good at lying again. I’ll figure a way out of it if she goes to Dreamcatcher and I’m not there.
He starts the car with a low rumble of the engine. In seconds, we’re far enough away that I don’t have to worry about being seen. “Pull over here,” I say, pointing to the parking lot of a bank. It’s hidden by a tall hedge.
Blitz parks the car in the corner and reaches over to unbuckle my belt. He takes me in his arms again, holding me tightly, as if he can’t believe I’m really there.
I understand the feeling. “You came back,” I say.
“Of course I did,” he says. “I didn’t even get to say good-bye.”
My stomach falls. “Are you now?”
He pulls away a little so he can look into my eyes. His are deep, dark brown, and full of concern. “Of course not. I flew back to find you again. I’ve been so worried. That you got caught. That your parents flipped out.”
I shake my head. “They don’t know about you still.”
“Do you still have your phone?”
I nod slowly. “I just couldn’t answer. I saw the video with that girl. Giselle.”
“God,” he says. “That was so screwed up.”
“I know,” I tell him. “And I know that wasn’t your doing. But then I saw some of the others. And you were so happy.”
He stiffens, and I press my palm to his cheek. “You were!” I say. “I saw it myself. You are back in your world. It’s what you wanted.”
“No,” he says, his voice low and hard. “I don’t want it at the cost of you.”
My heart sings at this, but I’m not sure I can believe it. It seems impossible.
“Blitz,” I say. “We’ve known each other, what, three weeks?”
“Are you saying you don’t feel this?” His voice catches at the end, and my heart squeezes.
“I do, Blitz, I really do.” I don’t know what I’m saying anymore. “I just see that you love that life. And I can’t do it with you.”
He closes his eyes, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “What would you like me to do? Meet your parents? Whisk you away to LA? Break my contract and quit the show?”
I hesitate. Something must be really wrong for him to want to throw everything away. “None of those,” I say. “Let’s just be for a minute.”
He pulls me back against him and I sink into the feeling of his arms around me, the smell of his hair, the soft tickle of the bristle on his cheek against my forehead.
A cold splat of rain hits the windshield, then another. Soon it’s pelting down, bits of ice mixed in. My mother will panic and try to come for me. I know it.
“I have to go home,” I say to him. “Meet me back at the park tonight. I’ll text you. Probably after ten, maybe eleven.”
He kisses my hair. “Okay. I’ll be there. Can you write to me in the meantime?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll charge the phone.”
He pulls away from me and starts the car. We drive through the deluge. I have him drop me off as close to home as I dare and make a run for the door.
Inside, Mom is just putting her coat on to come fetch me. She’s pulled out some towels. I let her dry my hair, thinking, plotting, wondering what I’ll do to get away tonight to see Blitz.