Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“That could be a long wait.” I paused at a stop sign.
Alexander likely meant ballet retirement, not the traditional senior citizen one, but if he followed the typical path set by Tavio and others, he might have another six years in him. That was a long time to be single.
“With any luck.” His voice went clipped as he was undoubtedly thinking about his injury.
“What if you meet the right woman at the wrong time?” I asked to distract both of us.
“Gender isn’t the limiting factor with me.” Alexander dropped the bombshell like more of an aside. However, fresh hope surged through me even as his tone turned more cynical. “There’s no such thing as the right person. Trust me. I’ve been in enough productions that center around the myth of true love. Fairytales are only on the stage.”
“Perhaps on fairytales. But true love exists.” Some of that errant hope colored my voice. “I’ve seen it.”
My parents were going on forty years together, and Alexander’s were as well. And for all I grumbled about Waylon and Shannon, they were stupidly in love.
“And I hope you find it.” All that was missing from Alexander’s patronizing tone was a head pat.
“Thanks.” I pulled into the school parking lot and busied myself finding a visitor parking spot rather than continuing the debate. As we exited the car, the bitter wind whipped across our faces.
“Do we check in with the front office first?” Alexander followed me toward what I hoped were the main doors. The school was an older building that had been added onto over the years in haphazard fashion, resulting in wings reflecting competing architectural trends. The main building was brick with wide concrete steps leading to a bank of heavy doors and a ramp off to one side.
“Yes, we need visitor passes.” I pressed the button for admission, and one of the office support staff let us into the building. After we were issued our shiny orange visitor badges, the same middle-aged woman showed us to the cafeteria. We were greeted by Mr. Davis, a harried guy in his late twenties or so with a cartoon T-shirt of a dog teaching in front of a blackboard, as his and the other third-grade classes trooped in. Our first presentation took double the allotted time with a stunning number of interruptions.
“I revise my earlier statement,” Alexander said in a low voice as we waited for the third graders to exit and the fourth graders to arrive. “This is chaos. Give me all the toddlers.”
“I love the kids’ enthusiasm.” I was used to the interruptions and wiggly kids, but Alexander’s droopy eyes were rather weary for not even ten in the morning.
“That’s one word for it.” He was spared more commentary by the arrival of the fourth graders, who brought even more interruptions and questions.
“Boys can’t be dancers.” A kid with wildly frizzy hair in the front row frowned at the pictures I was sharing of Alexander and other male dancers.
“My paycheck says otherwise.” Alexander was quick with the excellent comeback. He was getting decidedly snippy.
The next time we did a school visit, I’d bring along a coffee and a treat for him, but absent that, I tried my best to smooth things over.
“Anyone can be whatever they’d like,” I said in my most encouraging tone. “Plenty of boys love dancing.”
“It’s fun.” One of the other kids, a girl who seemed to have rubber bands for limbs and an inability to stay seated, leaped up to spin across the cafeteria.
“Addie.” Mr. Davis steered her back to her chair. “Settle down.”
“What’s fun about standing on your tippy-toes?” The boy remained unconvinced.
“Plenty.” Next to me, Alexander went up on one foot, extending the other leg high, much to the delight of the kids. I seized the chance to get us back on track, moving back to my presentation.
“I have pictures of some of the costumes—”
“Hey! He’s not wearing pants!” Another boy pointed at the screen.
“The ballet dancer is wearing white tights as part of his costume,” I corrected gently.
“Why would he do that?” The first boy wasn’t done with his questions.
Eyes narrow and mouth pursed, Alexander looked five seconds away from issuing a terse because, so I talked quickly.
“So he can leap extra high and spin fast.” I moved to a picture of Alexander in a Seattle show, leaping high above the stage. “I bet Alexander can jump higher than a lot of basketball players.”
“No way.” Both boys gasped at my audacity.
“Way.” Alexander flexed again.
“Show me.” Not surprisingly, the more talkative boy leaned forward.
“Not today.” I held up a hand before Alexander could risk reinjury by taking a dare from a ten-year-old. “Even Superman has to warm up before he flies, but you’ll see when you come to the show.”
Later, as we walked back to the car, Alexander paused to allow me to unlock it.