Two By Two

“What about art class?”

“Puh-lease.” She tossed a length of her thick hair over her shoulder. “The kids can skip a day. And I know Bodhi would be thrilled. Has London ever been there?”

“No,” I said.

The directness of her offer was disarming and I struggled to come up with a response. Was she asking me on a date? Or was this more about Bodhi and London?

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll let you know.” By then, I could see teachers beginning to congregate near the door, students assembling by classroom. Emily noticed it too.

“I should get back to my car,” she said. “I don’t want to hold up the line. It takes them long enough as it is. Good seeing you, Russ.” She waved.

“You, too, Emily.”

I watched her walk away, trying to decipher the meaning of her invitation, but as she drew farther away, I felt the distinct urge to see more of her. I might not be ready and it might be too soon, but I suddenly wanted that more than anything.

“Hey Emily,” I called out.

She turned.

“What time are you thinking of leaving?”

When we got home London was feeling a little better, so we went for a bike ride. I let her take the lead, following along as we traversed the streets of the neighborhood. Her biking ability was improving with every ride. I still had to caution her to move to the side of the road when a car approached, but kids on bicycles were a common sight in the neighborhood, and most drivers gave us a wide berth.

We rode for an hour. Once home, she ate a snack and went upstairs to dress for dance. It seemed to take forever, and after a while I went up to check on her. I found her sitting on the bed, still wearing the same outfit she’d worn earlier.

I took a seat beside her. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“I don’t want to go to dance tonight,” she said. “I’m sick.”

Her cold hadn’t adversely affected her bike ride, so I knew something else was going on. Namely, that she didn’t like dance class or Ms. Hamshaw. And who could blame her?

“If you’re too tired or still feeling sick, you don’t have to go.”

“Really?”

“Of course not.”

“Mommy might get mad.”

Your mom left us, I thought. But I didn’t say that.

“I’ll talk to her. If you’re sick, you’re sick. But is there something else going on?”

“No.”

“Because if there is, you can tell me.”

When she added nothing else, I put my arm around her. “Do you like going to dance?”

“It’s important,” she said, as if reciting a sacred rule. “Mommy used to dance.”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked if you like it.”

“I don’t want to be a tree.”

I frowned. “Honey? Can you tell me a little more about what’s going on?”

“There’s two groups in my class. One group is going away to dance at the competition. They’re the good dancers. I’m in the other group. We have to dance, too, but only for our parents. And I have to be a tree in the dance that we’re doing.”

“Oh,” I said. “And that’s bad?”

“Yes, it’s bad. I’m just supposed to move my arms when the leaves grow and fall.”

“Can you show me?”

With a sigh, she got up from the bed. She made a circle with her arms above her head, her fingertips touching. Then, separating her arms, she wiggled her fingers as she lowered her hands to her side. When she finished, she took a seat beside me on the bed again. I wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“If it makes you feel any better, you were a very good tree,” I finally offered.

“It’s for the bad dancers, Daddy. Because I’m not good enough to play the frog or the butterfly or the swan or the fish.”

I tried to imagine what those animals would be doing and how the dance would unfold, but what was the point? I figured I’d see it soon enough.

“How many other girls are trees?”

“Just me and Alexandra. I wanted to be the butterfly and I practiced really hard and I know all the moves, but Ms. Hamshaw said that Molly gets to be the butterfly.”

In the world of a five-year-old, I supposed this was a very big deal.

“When is the show?”

“I don’t know. She told us but I forgot.”

I made a note to check with Ms. Hamshaw. Before or after class, obviously, so I didn’t offend or disrupt her.

“Do you want to go to the zoo this weekend? With me and Bodhi and Miss Emily?”

“What?”

“The zoo. Miss Emily and Bodhi are going. She invited us, but I don’t want to go if you’d rather not.”

“A real zoo?”

“With lions and tigers and bears. Oh my.”

She furrowed her little brow.

“Why did you say ‘Oh my’?” she finally asked.

“It’s from a movie called The Wizard of Oz.”

“Have I seen it?”

“No,” I said.

“What’s it about?”

“It’s about a girl named Dorothy. Her house gets picked up by a tornado and she lands in a place called Oz. She meets a lion and a tin man and a scarecrow, and they try to find the wizard so she can go back home.”

“Is there a bear and a tiger in the movie, too?”