This was originally handwritten on July 20, 2016. (While I was trapped in the backseat of a car on a road trip.) Needs major editing. :)
~K
-----
"Well, this is a disaster."
"You really gave her a ring, huh?"
"Yes Everett -- I gave her a ring. The finger she put it on though, was not my choice. Now, she's wrecking my life because I broke up with her."
"Oh yes, your life is just in a shambles now. Riiiight."
"Shut-up Everett -- you know what I mean."
"Zacky, you are one of the most sought after translators in the country, okay? None of your clients care about your relationship with your ex-girlfriend, not so long as you are still translating with that keen understanding of languages that you've always seemed to have. How many of them have even asked about how you were doing since the split?"
"Well, most of them to be honest."
"But that doesn't mean they actually care Zack. They are just attempting to make polite conversation. Just keep telling them you're fine and carry on with business."
"The more I think on it, the more I'd almost prefer that."
"Well, you can't control people. Do you want them to just stop talking to you?! That is crazy Zack. You are a translator! Talking is what you do. That is your job. You communicate."
"I know that Rhett! I spend my life helping other people understand each other. How is it that so often I am the one misunderstood?"
"Why? Because some floozy cosmetologist got upset that you broke up with her?"
"You know she was more than a cosmetologist to me Rhett. She had so much potential. How could I have been such a horrible judge of character?"
"Well, you can just sit here in your pity party as long as you like -- but it's beginning to sound like you brought all of this onto yourself. I need to go help with the baby."
Tell me about it. Zachary mumbled to his older brother's back as Everett left the room.
Normally Everett's advice was easily taken to heart -- but the one thing Zack knew he needed most were the tough love moments that he hated. Their dad had been out of the picture for a while and Everett had taken it upon himself to fill their father's shoes. If the years of practice Everett had gotten in with Zachary were any indication, Rhett was going to be a terrific dad. Zack, however, wasn't so sure he would ever be parent material. Oh, he loved kids -- he was actively in the process of spoiling his nephew silly, and he'd been the one who'd been ferociously protective of their baby sister when she was born. But being responsible for his own kids? No. That prospect was terrifying.
Now he had an ex-girlfriend who'd wanted to marry him and have his children, but he'd wanted out! He'd wanted out with every fiber of his being. Crazy! He'd really thought he was in love with Vanessa. She was gorgeous, smart, fun, and just promiscuous enough to be enticing. But the more he though of spending the rest of his life with "Nessie", the more nauseous he became. Zack was positive that nausea was not what love was supposed to feel like. Butterflies -- okay, sure. Nausea? No, not at all.
Wasn't he supposed to feel protective... jealous... even predatory where Vanessa was concerned? He'd tried. God knows he'd tried. He'd faked being protective by asking her to move in. He'd tried asking her to cut back on her male clientele. She'd laughed at his weak attempt at jealousy - they both knew her male clientele was more interested in him than they were in her. She'd condescended -- chiding him as though he were a small child, telling him she'd had those clients forever and not one of them was a threat to him. The only thing left to be was predatory, and he felt like he did that okay... when he saved it for the bedroom. Being predatory anywhere else felt either inappropriate or completely stupid.
Truth be told, the only thing Zack had felt for Nessie in a long time was numbness... maybe some fear... but only fear of her, never fear for her. Nessie had just begun to feel all wrong to him, and she had for a while. But he'd hurt her by breaking it off. He knew her well enough to know that. Of course she'd retaliated. She'd spread lies about him to their circle of mutual friends. drained what she could from his bank accounts. Why? Why had he let her get so close so fast? That wasn't like him. Zack was cautious, reserved, analytical -- he'd never rushed into anything... until Vanessa.
Now that he'd had space to think it over, he was beginning to realize that Nessie was the one rushing him... and he was letting her. Some part of him had had it bad. Zack acknowledged that. He also knew that he still carried some of that around -- though it was now badly bruised. He had to admit that bruising was just as much his own fault as it was Vanessa's. He'd let her do it. He'd let her hurt him.
Never again, Zachary thought to himself. A pang of regret hung in his chest at the sound of his nephew cooing in his big brother's strong arms.
-----
"First position -- releve... plie... releve... plie... releve... grande plie... and recover.
Second position -- releve... plie... releve... plie... releve... grande plie... and recover."
The soft strains of one of Tschaikovsky's fairy tale pieces played as Harper led the sizable three-year-old class in their ballet warm-up. She loved these "littles" (as she called them). They kept her in shape, they kept her smiling, they kept her on her toes - literally. And they were the sweetest class... especially the lone two-year-old, Rosie.
Normally the cap for the youngest class was three-years-of age, but Rosie had demonstrated a sincere earnestness to dance. She could feel it with her whole little body. They could tell that from the audition process. So, they'd admitted her to the academy, in spite of her age. She picked up things so fast, never complained, was always happy and eager. She was only two, but Harper had learned more about attitude and work ethic from Rosie than anyone else had demonstrated in her entire life. Harper loved to teach - Rosie loved to learn. They cherished each other.
It was already heartbreaking to think of leaving, but an opportunity to dance with the Joff-Russe Ballet Company didn't come around every day, and as much as Harper loved to teach -- she loved to dance even more. This was a big opportunity and she'd be crazy not to take it. All of her fellow teachers, even Headmistress Robin, had been so encouraging -- promising they'd come see the shows, promising she'd always have a job at Terpsichore's if she ever wanted to come back. "Once a barre-rat, always a barre-rat," they'd all joked at her going away party.
Now -- here she was, living a day she never thought would come, teaching her last class, trying not to tear up, loving the smell of the studio, the sounds of the music echoing off the walls, the lights... all of it. She reveled in it for the last time. She felt more stern and more soft at the same time. It was the most precious agony she'd ever felt. As the class progressed, she straightened postures, corrected footings, went over the 8-count for practice, then went over the 8-count again with music. She swelled with pride each time they got it right. She made them repeat it over and over. By the end of class, Harper was emotionally exhausted, but she smiled anyway... even when the entire class linked hands, made a big circle around her and shuffled in for a class hug after she'd dismissed them. She gave each of her littles a hug and a note as they walked out.
The last one to leave was tiny Rosie, who had a sad little pout on her sweet face. She unzipped her shoe bag and pulled out a little ballet teddy bear in a tutu holding a rose.
"I"m a'posed to be happy," Rosie sighed, holding the gift up, "but I'm really gonna miss you Miss Harper." A big tear fell down her cheek and Harper lost it. She dropped to her knees and hugged Rosie as tightly as she could.
"Thank you Rosie. I think I'll name her Terpsichore."
"Like our school?" Rosie sniffled.
"Yes, like our school. Do you know what Terpsichore was Rosie? Who Terpsichore was?"
"No Miss Harper."
Harper sat down and pulled teary Rosie into her lap. "Terpsichore was a muse of inspiration. She inspired dance. She was also the youngest of the other nine muses."
"Like me?!" Rosie perked up.
"Yes ma'am, she was the youngest - just like you." Harper tapped the tiny girl's nose with her pointer finger. "And I want you to know that you are like my own little Terpsichore... because you have taught me more that you'll probably ever know." By now, both of them were crying, just the two of them, sitting in the studio floor, leaning against the mirror.
Rosie's mother, Marie peaked around the corner to see if Rosie was ready to go, and she teared up too. "Rosie is really gonna miss you in class Miss Harper, but we are going to come see you dance sometime."
"Well, I certainly hope so," Harper said, squeezing Rosie one last time then helping her up. "Because I am really gonna miss her too! Thank you so much for the privilege of teaching your wonderful little." She handed Marie the note she'd written for Rosie, hugged Marie, and gave Rosie one last tiny kiss on the cheek before Marie carried her out of the studio.
Whew, Harper steadied herself. Now that the studio was empty -- the squeeze on her heart changed. For old time's sake, she thought, as she changed the music in the player and began to dance to her own mix.
Just as she'd begun to work up a sweat, Harper heard the studio door latch open. The headmistress stood in the door frame watching, as she had so many times before.
"I remember when it took you days to understand that triple-step. Now you do it with as much ease as you have walking. Gorgeous lines -- beautiful extensions -- powerful purposeful movement -- lovely. Of course they wanted you Harper, I taught you. Of all my original students, you are the one I knew could make it this far. You are dedicated, hard-working, an excellent listener with delightful musicality... you're going to be terrific. I already have tickets for the first performance."
"But, Ms. Robin - I'm only in the chorus."
"That's farther than many other people have gotten, some didn't even make it past auditions."
"You may not even see me though. And I don't want you to spend your money that way if I'm the only reason you've decided to come."
"Are you telling me not to come and enjoy a ballet -- when ballet is my whole life? Don't forget young miss - I am the proprietor of this establishment." Ms. Robin chided in jest with a smirk at Harper's sheepish face.
She walked up to Harper and folded her in a firm, supportive hug. "I will know you are there. That is enough, sweet girl."
"I'm gonna miss you Ms. Robin." Harper felt the tears forming in her eyes again as she hugged her own dance teacher back.
"This is no time for tears, Harp." Ms. Robin pushed Harper's shoulders back. "Now is your time to shine... and I am so proud of you. Now, go through that last 8-count again." Ms. Robin instructed, restarting Harper's mix.
"What can I improve in it?"
"Nothing. I just wanted to see you do it again."
Harper when through the entire routine again, just for Ms. Robin -- who ducked out of the studio right before the final 8-count began, leaving Harper alone again.
-----
The familiar ringtone sounded, and Zachary jolted awake. "Another day, another dollar," he mumbled, ruffling his own mop of brown hair before pulling it up off his neck into a bun and turning off his alarm. Much to his annoyance, it kept ringing. He cleared his throat to answer as he picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Zachary! Buddy! You up?"
"I am now, what is it Jack?"
"I just got you a swell gig. You probably won't have to talk too much, and you may get to bring your mother!"
"Yeah? Let's have it Jack. What's the job?"
"A visiting dignitary has requested translation on an outing with his grand-daughter, he wants to take her to the ballet. She wants to be a ballerina someday. You'd basically be there to assist with introductions and, if you are both amenable, he may request you as his aide for the remainder of his trip."
"... and you thought my mother would enjoy the ballet?"
"Of course. Didn't you tell me that she danced once?"
Ignoring the question, Zachary asked. "What language Jack?"
"Russian."
"Alright, I'll do it."
"I figured you would. The car will be by your apartment to take you to the airport at 10 sharp this morning - be packed for a week-long in Chicago. Call me when you arrive and I'll let you know where to go from there. And Zach... "
"Yeah Jack?"
"I know you like to be a rockstar now that Nessie isn't around to trim your hair, but please pack a tuxedo. Graphic t-shirts do not go over well with heads of state."
"Do I need to call Mom?"
"I've already called her. She is packed and ready to go. The car is picking her up first."
Zachary chortled to himself, how like his mother. Most women couldn't be bothered to pack for a week long trip in a matter of hours, but his mom was half-packed all the time. He didn't mind. He loved it actually. He loved his mom. He'd move mountains for her, and he suspected that Jack would too. He'd been trying to keep an eye on the two of them since Jack had begun including her in Zack's business trips that he thought she might enjoy. Zack liked Jack. Zack just wasn't sure how he'd feel about his manager being his step-dad.
By 3 p.m., Zachary and his mother, Paloma were in Chicago, readying themselves for the evening's event. They rushed between their adjoining suites - Zack zipping his mother's dress, Paloma fussing over him in her excitement.
"Oh Zacky! We really must thank Jack for this. It's been so long since I've seen the ballet. And to see it at the Joff-Russe!!! Oh, I'm so excited!"
Zack smiled, "Just relax and enjoy yourself, Mom. This is your thing!"
"Oh, I know baby, it's just been so long! What are we going to see?"
"Oh - one of the Stravinsikovsky pieces. I think. Rite of Spring, Swan Lake... one of those."
"You're being naughty Zack, you know those are two different composers. Darling, are you sure you don't want to wear the button-up?"
"The plain black t-shirt should be sufficient Mom. Its' clean, it's comfortable, and this is a social event. I'll save the button-up for work."
"Have it your own way." His mother sighed in mock resignation.
"I usually do," Zachary grinned, "I get that from you." His mother swatted at him with her handkerchief. "At least wear the jacket!"
"I had every intention of doing so."
-----
Harper was dressing backstage, trying not to be too visibly nervous. After several months with the company, she'd finally been approached by the choreographers to prepare a solo and audition as a principle. And she'd made it! She was finally a principle at the Joff-Russe Ballet Company!
She'd worked so hard, so it was a real treat when Ms. Robin had called to surprise her with the news that several of her former students and their parents would be attending her debut performance. So many of them had expressed interest that Ms. Robin had offered to charter a short trip and bus them all over! Even Rosie and Marie were supposed to be coming! They'd all decided to come out for the matinee performance, make a day of being in the city, and stay for the evening viewing. Harper hadn't even known they'd arrived until they showed up for the light rehearsal before the first show. She'd been so glad to see them that morning, and she knew that seeing them in the audience this evening probably wouldn't do much for her nerves. She wanted to make them all so proud. She'd spent part of the afternoon with them once the matinee was over - showing them around as much as she could.
Ms. Robin had made sure to help her peel herself away from everyone so that she could head back, rest, then warm up again before the final performance of the evening. How like Ms. Robin to know that Harper wouldn't be able to just walk away from everyone. "Guys, we need to let Miss Harper go back and rest up for tonight." Ms. Robin gently reminded them all. "We'll all be here when you're finished this evening Harp. Besides, we'd like a chance to look around the Joff-Russe and Chicago on our own for a bit."
So, Harper had left them to their own devices and headed back to prepare. When she got back, there was a small commotion, apparently her dance family weren't the only special guests tonight. One of the newer girls in the company came in wringing her hands.
"Natasha -- sweetie, what's the matter?"
"My country's emissary is going to be here for this evening's performance!"
"Yes,... and?"
"I'm a little nervous, I guess. I've never danced for someone this important before."
In an effort to calm the younger girl's nerves, Harper spoke. "Come on Natasha, you don't believe that. Everyone we dance for is important to us. You danced beautifully last night, and again this morning. And you will be wonderful again this evening."
"You think?"
"No. I know. But, if it makes you feel better, I'll loan you some music to mark through to."
"No, no..." Natasha shook her head. "I've already got the music."
"Yes, you do...and it's right in here," Harper touched the girls heart. "You will be great. I believe in you."
Harper said it with such conviction that the girl had no other recourse but to agree. Foreign dignitary or not... they'd all worked hard on this production. Harper was never one to put much faith in cutthroat competition or unnecessary drama. Harper was the one all the younger dancers seemed to look to for guidance and professionalism. As far as Harper was concerned, if you had to tell someone how good you were, you weren't good enough. As far as she was concerned, dancing was a form of communication, and if your dancing could not be understood, then you didn't understand it well enough yourself. Harper was not about to let a few agitated nerves over some dignitary keep them all from being on top of their game. She did everything she could to encourage her peers.
-----
"Sorry for being so late," the lady in front of them in the "will call" line apologized to the teller. "My little girl just woke up from her nap and her dance class has already gone inside." The teller wasn't letting her in.
Everyone in the line seemed mildly irritated, including his mother who was immediately behind them in line, but the unaffected, tiny, tutu-ed toddler only yawned and adjusted her head on her mother's shoulder. Of course that set off coos from everyone at how cute she was. Apparently they were having some difficulty with this woman's seating.
Zachary had seen the entire scene play out from the entrance, where he was waiting for the limousine containing the Russian Emissary and his granddaughter. Zachary's mother had been in the will-call line behind this mother and child as they were getting this woman's reservation checked out.
There had been some sort of mix up and the woman stepped aside to make a quick phone call. "Yes, we're here. We made it! They just aren't letting us back in. -- Okay. -- I'll be beside the will-call window."
Within minutes, another older woman, built much like his mother, stepped out of the doors. "Marie, what is the matter?"
The exchange was lost as the limousine pulled up and the dignitary made his arrival with his seven-year-old granddaughter, Lydia, in tow. Zachary met the two of them at the entrance and was showing them to the door when Lydia piped up. "Balet, Dyedushka?! Balet?!"
"Dah Lydia, balet."
"Ya lyublyu balet!" The seven-year-old squealed in surprise!
Zachary smiled at the joy radiating from the girl's face. He'd looked at the program. He'd been quasi-right, it was a Tschaikovsky program. He got busy translating the story from the program to Lydia when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Zachary, darling. Would the Emissary mind some company in the skybox?"
He excused himself from Lydia, who was only half-listening anyway, to ask her grandfather the question.
~K
-----
"Well, this is a disaster."
"You really gave her a ring, huh?"
"Yes Everett -- I gave her a ring. The finger she put it on though, was not my choice. Now, she's wrecking my life because I broke up with her."
"Oh yes, your life is just in a shambles now. Riiiight."
"Shut-up Everett -- you know what I mean."
"Zacky, you are one of the most sought after translators in the country, okay? None of your clients care about your relationship with your ex-girlfriend, not so long as you are still translating with that keen understanding of languages that you've always seemed to have. How many of them have even asked about how you were doing since the split?"
"Well, most of them to be honest."
"But that doesn't mean they actually care Zack. They are just attempting to make polite conversation. Just keep telling them you're fine and carry on with business."
"The more I think on it, the more I'd almost prefer that."
"Well, you can't control people. Do you want them to just stop talking to you?! That is crazy Zack. You are a translator! Talking is what you do. That is your job. You communicate."
"I know that Rhett! I spend my life helping other people understand each other. How is it that so often I am the one misunderstood?"
"Why? Because some floozy cosmetologist got upset that you broke up with her?"
"You know she was more than a cosmetologist to me Rhett. She had so much potential. How could I have been such a horrible judge of character?"
"Well, you can just sit here in your pity party as long as you like -- but it's beginning to sound like you brought all of this onto yourself. I need to go help with the baby."
Tell me about it. Zachary mumbled to his older brother's back as Everett left the room.
Normally Everett's advice was easily taken to heart -- but the one thing Zack knew he needed most were the tough love moments that he hated. Their dad had been out of the picture for a while and Everett had taken it upon himself to fill their father's shoes. If the years of practice Everett had gotten in with Zachary were any indication, Rhett was going to be a terrific dad. Zack, however, wasn't so sure he would ever be parent material. Oh, he loved kids -- he was actively in the process of spoiling his nephew silly, and he'd been the one who'd been ferociously protective of their baby sister when she was born. But being responsible for his own kids? No. That prospect was terrifying.
Now he had an ex-girlfriend who'd wanted to marry him and have his children, but he'd wanted out! He'd wanted out with every fiber of his being. Crazy! He'd really thought he was in love with Vanessa. She was gorgeous, smart, fun, and just promiscuous enough to be enticing. But the more he though of spending the rest of his life with "Nessie", the more nauseous he became. Zack was positive that nausea was not what love was supposed to feel like. Butterflies -- okay, sure. Nausea? No, not at all.
Wasn't he supposed to feel protective... jealous... even predatory where Vanessa was concerned? He'd tried. God knows he'd tried. He'd faked being protective by asking her to move in. He'd tried asking her to cut back on her male clientele. She'd laughed at his weak attempt at jealousy - they both knew her male clientele was more interested in him than they were in her. She'd condescended -- chiding him as though he were a small child, telling him she'd had those clients forever and not one of them was a threat to him. The only thing left to be was predatory, and he felt like he did that okay... when he saved it for the bedroom. Being predatory anywhere else felt either inappropriate or completely stupid.
Truth be told, the only thing Zack had felt for Nessie in a long time was numbness... maybe some fear... but only fear of her, never fear for her. Nessie had just begun to feel all wrong to him, and she had for a while. But he'd hurt her by breaking it off. He knew her well enough to know that. Of course she'd retaliated. She'd spread lies about him to their circle of mutual friends. drained what she could from his bank accounts. Why? Why had he let her get so close so fast? That wasn't like him. Zack was cautious, reserved, analytical -- he'd never rushed into anything... until Vanessa.
Now that he'd had space to think it over, he was beginning to realize that Nessie was the one rushing him... and he was letting her. Some part of him had had it bad. Zack acknowledged that. He also knew that he still carried some of that around -- though it was now badly bruised. He had to admit that bruising was just as much his own fault as it was Vanessa's. He'd let her do it. He'd let her hurt him.
Never again, Zachary thought to himself. A pang of regret hung in his chest at the sound of his nephew cooing in his big brother's strong arms.
-----
"First position -- releve... plie... releve... plie... releve... grande plie... and recover.
Second position -- releve... plie... releve... plie... releve... grande plie... and recover."
The soft strains of one of Tschaikovsky's fairy tale pieces played as Harper led the sizable three-year-old class in their ballet warm-up. She loved these "littles" (as she called them). They kept her in shape, they kept her smiling, they kept her on her toes - literally. And they were the sweetest class... especially the lone two-year-old, Rosie.
Normally the cap for the youngest class was three-years-of age, but Rosie had demonstrated a sincere earnestness to dance. She could feel it with her whole little body. They could tell that from the audition process. So, they'd admitted her to the academy, in spite of her age. She picked up things so fast, never complained, was always happy and eager. She was only two, but Harper had learned more about attitude and work ethic from Rosie than anyone else had demonstrated in her entire life. Harper loved to teach - Rosie loved to learn. They cherished each other.
It was already heartbreaking to think of leaving, but an opportunity to dance with the Joff-Russe Ballet Company didn't come around every day, and as much as Harper loved to teach -- she loved to dance even more. This was a big opportunity and she'd be crazy not to take it. All of her fellow teachers, even Headmistress Robin, had been so encouraging -- promising they'd come see the shows, promising she'd always have a job at Terpsichore's if she ever wanted to come back. "Once a barre-rat, always a barre-rat," they'd all joked at her going away party.
Now -- here she was, living a day she never thought would come, teaching her last class, trying not to tear up, loving the smell of the studio, the sounds of the music echoing off the walls, the lights... all of it. She reveled in it for the last time. She felt more stern and more soft at the same time. It was the most precious agony she'd ever felt. As the class progressed, she straightened postures, corrected footings, went over the 8-count for practice, then went over the 8-count again with music. She swelled with pride each time they got it right. She made them repeat it over and over. By the end of class, Harper was emotionally exhausted, but she smiled anyway... even when the entire class linked hands, made a big circle around her and shuffled in for a class hug after she'd dismissed them. She gave each of her littles a hug and a note as they walked out.
The last one to leave was tiny Rosie, who had a sad little pout on her sweet face. She unzipped her shoe bag and pulled out a little ballet teddy bear in a tutu holding a rose.
"I"m a'posed to be happy," Rosie sighed, holding the gift up, "but I'm really gonna miss you Miss Harper." A big tear fell down her cheek and Harper lost it. She dropped to her knees and hugged Rosie as tightly as she could.
"Thank you Rosie. I think I'll name her Terpsichore."
"Like our school?" Rosie sniffled.
"Yes, like our school. Do you know what Terpsichore was Rosie? Who Terpsichore was?"
"No Miss Harper."
Harper sat down and pulled teary Rosie into her lap. "Terpsichore was a muse of inspiration. She inspired dance. She was also the youngest of the other nine muses."
"Like me?!" Rosie perked up.
"Yes ma'am, she was the youngest - just like you." Harper tapped the tiny girl's nose with her pointer finger. "And I want you to know that you are like my own little Terpsichore... because you have taught me more that you'll probably ever know." By now, both of them were crying, just the two of them, sitting in the studio floor, leaning against the mirror.
Rosie's mother, Marie peaked around the corner to see if Rosie was ready to go, and she teared up too. "Rosie is really gonna miss you in class Miss Harper, but we are going to come see you dance sometime."
"Well, I certainly hope so," Harper said, squeezing Rosie one last time then helping her up. "Because I am really gonna miss her too! Thank you so much for the privilege of teaching your wonderful little." She handed Marie the note she'd written for Rosie, hugged Marie, and gave Rosie one last tiny kiss on the cheek before Marie carried her out of the studio.
Whew, Harper steadied herself. Now that the studio was empty -- the squeeze on her heart changed. For old time's sake, she thought, as she changed the music in the player and began to dance to her own mix.
Just as she'd begun to work up a sweat, Harper heard the studio door latch open. The headmistress stood in the door frame watching, as she had so many times before.
"I remember when it took you days to understand that triple-step. Now you do it with as much ease as you have walking. Gorgeous lines -- beautiful extensions -- powerful purposeful movement -- lovely. Of course they wanted you Harper, I taught you. Of all my original students, you are the one I knew could make it this far. You are dedicated, hard-working, an excellent listener with delightful musicality... you're going to be terrific. I already have tickets for the first performance."
"But, Ms. Robin - I'm only in the chorus."
"That's farther than many other people have gotten, some didn't even make it past auditions."
"You may not even see me though. And I don't want you to spend your money that way if I'm the only reason you've decided to come."
"Are you telling me not to come and enjoy a ballet -- when ballet is my whole life? Don't forget young miss - I am the proprietor of this establishment." Ms. Robin chided in jest with a smirk at Harper's sheepish face.
She walked up to Harper and folded her in a firm, supportive hug. "I will know you are there. That is enough, sweet girl."
"I'm gonna miss you Ms. Robin." Harper felt the tears forming in her eyes again as she hugged her own dance teacher back.
"This is no time for tears, Harp." Ms. Robin pushed Harper's shoulders back. "Now is your time to shine... and I am so proud of you. Now, go through that last 8-count again." Ms. Robin instructed, restarting Harper's mix.
"What can I improve in it?"
"Nothing. I just wanted to see you do it again."
Harper when through the entire routine again, just for Ms. Robin -- who ducked out of the studio right before the final 8-count began, leaving Harper alone again.
-----
The familiar ringtone sounded, and Zachary jolted awake. "Another day, another dollar," he mumbled, ruffling his own mop of brown hair before pulling it up off his neck into a bun and turning off his alarm. Much to his annoyance, it kept ringing. He cleared his throat to answer as he picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Zachary! Buddy! You up?"
"I am now, what is it Jack?"
"I just got you a swell gig. You probably won't have to talk too much, and you may get to bring your mother!"
"Yeah? Let's have it Jack. What's the job?"
"A visiting dignitary has requested translation on an outing with his grand-daughter, he wants to take her to the ballet. She wants to be a ballerina someday. You'd basically be there to assist with introductions and, if you are both amenable, he may request you as his aide for the remainder of his trip."
"... and you thought my mother would enjoy the ballet?"
"Of course. Didn't you tell me that she danced once?"
Ignoring the question, Zachary asked. "What language Jack?"
"Russian."
"Alright, I'll do it."
"I figured you would. The car will be by your apartment to take you to the airport at 10 sharp this morning - be packed for a week-long in Chicago. Call me when you arrive and I'll let you know where to go from there. And Zach... "
"Yeah Jack?"
"I know you like to be a rockstar now that Nessie isn't around to trim your hair, but please pack a tuxedo. Graphic t-shirts do not go over well with heads of state."
"Do I need to call Mom?"
"I've already called her. She is packed and ready to go. The car is picking her up first."
Zachary chortled to himself, how like his mother. Most women couldn't be bothered to pack for a week long trip in a matter of hours, but his mom was half-packed all the time. He didn't mind. He loved it actually. He loved his mom. He'd move mountains for her, and he suspected that Jack would too. He'd been trying to keep an eye on the two of them since Jack had begun including her in Zack's business trips that he thought she might enjoy. Zack liked Jack. Zack just wasn't sure how he'd feel about his manager being his step-dad.
By 3 p.m., Zachary and his mother, Paloma were in Chicago, readying themselves for the evening's event. They rushed between their adjoining suites - Zack zipping his mother's dress, Paloma fussing over him in her excitement.
"Oh Zacky! We really must thank Jack for this. It's been so long since I've seen the ballet. And to see it at the Joff-Russe!!! Oh, I'm so excited!"
Zack smiled, "Just relax and enjoy yourself, Mom. This is your thing!"
"Oh, I know baby, it's just been so long! What are we going to see?"
"Oh - one of the Stravinsikovsky pieces. I think. Rite of Spring, Swan Lake... one of those."
"You're being naughty Zack, you know those are two different composers. Darling, are you sure you don't want to wear the button-up?"
"The plain black t-shirt should be sufficient Mom. Its' clean, it's comfortable, and this is a social event. I'll save the button-up for work."
"Have it your own way." His mother sighed in mock resignation.
"I usually do," Zachary grinned, "I get that from you." His mother swatted at him with her handkerchief. "At least wear the jacket!"
"I had every intention of doing so."
-----
Harper was dressing backstage, trying not to be too visibly nervous. After several months with the company, she'd finally been approached by the choreographers to prepare a solo and audition as a principle. And she'd made it! She was finally a principle at the Joff-Russe Ballet Company!
She'd worked so hard, so it was a real treat when Ms. Robin had called to surprise her with the news that several of her former students and their parents would be attending her debut performance. So many of them had expressed interest that Ms. Robin had offered to charter a short trip and bus them all over! Even Rosie and Marie were supposed to be coming! They'd all decided to come out for the matinee performance, make a day of being in the city, and stay for the evening viewing. Harper hadn't even known they'd arrived until they showed up for the light rehearsal before the first show. She'd been so glad to see them that morning, and she knew that seeing them in the audience this evening probably wouldn't do much for her nerves. She wanted to make them all so proud. She'd spent part of the afternoon with them once the matinee was over - showing them around as much as she could.
Ms. Robin had made sure to help her peel herself away from everyone so that she could head back, rest, then warm up again before the final performance of the evening. How like Ms. Robin to know that Harper wouldn't be able to just walk away from everyone. "Guys, we need to let Miss Harper go back and rest up for tonight." Ms. Robin gently reminded them all. "We'll all be here when you're finished this evening Harp. Besides, we'd like a chance to look around the Joff-Russe and Chicago on our own for a bit."
So, Harper had left them to their own devices and headed back to prepare. When she got back, there was a small commotion, apparently her dance family weren't the only special guests tonight. One of the newer girls in the company came in wringing her hands.
"Natasha -- sweetie, what's the matter?"
"My country's emissary is going to be here for this evening's performance!"
"Yes,... and?"
"I'm a little nervous, I guess. I've never danced for someone this important before."
In an effort to calm the younger girl's nerves, Harper spoke. "Come on Natasha, you don't believe that. Everyone we dance for is important to us. You danced beautifully last night, and again this morning. And you will be wonderful again this evening."
"You think?"
"No. I know. But, if it makes you feel better, I'll loan you some music to mark through to."
"No, no..." Natasha shook her head. "I've already got the music."
"Yes, you do...and it's right in here," Harper touched the girls heart. "You will be great. I believe in you."
Harper said it with such conviction that the girl had no other recourse but to agree. Foreign dignitary or not... they'd all worked hard on this production. Harper was never one to put much faith in cutthroat competition or unnecessary drama. Harper was the one all the younger dancers seemed to look to for guidance and professionalism. As far as Harper was concerned, if you had to tell someone how good you were, you weren't good enough. As far as she was concerned, dancing was a form of communication, and if your dancing could not be understood, then you didn't understand it well enough yourself. Harper was not about to let a few agitated nerves over some dignitary keep them all from being on top of their game. She did everything she could to encourage her peers.
-----
"Sorry for being so late," the lady in front of them in the "will call" line apologized to the teller. "My little girl just woke up from her nap and her dance class has already gone inside." The teller wasn't letting her in.
Everyone in the line seemed mildly irritated, including his mother who was immediately behind them in line, but the unaffected, tiny, tutu-ed toddler only yawned and adjusted her head on her mother's shoulder. Of course that set off coos from everyone at how cute she was. Apparently they were having some difficulty with this woman's seating.
Zachary had seen the entire scene play out from the entrance, where he was waiting for the limousine containing the Russian Emissary and his granddaughter. Zachary's mother had been in the will-call line behind this mother and child as they were getting this woman's reservation checked out.
There had been some sort of mix up and the woman stepped aside to make a quick phone call. "Yes, we're here. We made it! They just aren't letting us back in. -- Okay. -- I'll be beside the will-call window."
Within minutes, another older woman, built much like his mother, stepped out of the doors. "Marie, what is the matter?"
The exchange was lost as the limousine pulled up and the dignitary made his arrival with his seven-year-old granddaughter, Lydia, in tow. Zachary met the two of them at the entrance and was showing them to the door when Lydia piped up. "Balet, Dyedushka?! Balet?!"
"Dah Lydia, balet."
"Ya lyublyu balet!" The seven-year-old squealed in surprise!
Zachary smiled at the joy radiating from the girl's face. He'd looked at the program. He'd been quasi-right, it was a Tschaikovsky program. He got busy translating the story from the program to Lydia when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Zachary, darling. Would the Emissary mind some company in the skybox?"
He excused himself from Lydia, who was only half-listening anyway, to ask her grandfather the question.
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