Emmy is dancing her heart out on the stage, her tiny ballerina movements making my fatherly heart proud.
Ivy is going to take the stage, and I’m going to join her. I’ve been practicing for a couple of weeks now. I don’t know what took over my mind to think I could do this in front of other people, but here we are.
I’m a boxer and a father. I make furniture, and I teach others a sport I’ve loved my whole life. Still, I’m questioning if I have the ability to not fall on my face during a ballet performance. Only time will tell. But I’m in love with a dancer, and I’ll do anything to make sure she feels safe. She told me that she only wants me to hold her for the rest of her life. And I’m going to do just that.
Besides, male dancers in Birch Borough are limited. While there’s Liam, whom I’ve met a few times and can confirm that he’s a good guy with musical ability, there’s still no way I’m letting him or some other dancer from a nearby town get near her.
Am I delusional enough to think I’ll be graceful? Not really. But will I embarrass her is the real question.
I’m waiting in the right wing of the high school auditorium stage, wearing an outfit that Shirley from All Sewn Up made for me. It had to be a rush special order because I don’t fit in any of the dance wear options at the local shop and would have had no idea what to order online. Also, I wasn’t about to wear tights. Instead, I’m wearing a shirt that shimmers and pants that aren’t too tight. The loose fabric comes in at my ankle and is tucked into leather boots that are slippers but look way cooler, in my opinion.
Liam appears beside me, wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard. The man has been a willing participant in this surprise, and I’m grateful. He greets me with a grin. “Okay, Jace. So, the next number is about to start, and then it’s you and her. Are you sure you’re ready?”
“I’m honestly not sure. But I will be ready for Ivy.”
The truth is, I snuck backstage after I slipped out from the audience ten minutes ago so Ivy wouldn’t suspect anything. She’s been on stage for the last few numbers with her students. I waited until I could sneak out unseen and wait in the wings, watching the end of Emmy’s performance from my hiding spot.
“She’s gonna love this,” Liam says with a grin and a shake of his head. He reaches up to clap me on the shoulder and then walks off, telling someone in the microphone attached to his headset that “the bear is in place.”
I shake out my limbs and try to stretch. I’m not doing much movement out there. My only hope is that I at least complement Ivy to some degree. My goal is to channel less of the “I could punch anyone in the face like I do a boxing bag” energy and more of an “I’m a gentle tower in the middle of this art scene” vibe. I’m also hoping that showcasing Ivy in this way will be another reason for the Music and Arts Committee to see the importanceof dance. And if Ivy can fly because I can lift her a little higher, so be it.
I’m caught between pacing a little and continuing to stretch when I hear the music winding down. My heart rate accelerates with such speed I hear it pumping through my ears. Grabbing a water bottle from a small table placed nearby for the dancers when they leave the stage, I consume half of it in one gulp and then put it down against the wall.
It’s time.
A troop of little dancers flutters past me, their role in tonight’s production complete. Ivy will close out this year’s performance for the town with a dance routine that shows the skills their children are on the way to learning. Emmy’s eyes catch mine as she runs up, her face lighting up with delighted surprise. Swiftly, she throws her arms around my legs for a hug before dashing off with her friends.
The music for our song begins, and I see Ivy from my position. She takes center stage, lifting her arms and moving to her toes. Gracefully, she dances through steps I recognize from seeing her practice for the last few weeks.
“Okay, Jace. You can do this.” Yes, I’m talking to myself, and yes, it feels necessary.
When it’s my cue, I think of Ivy’s selflessness, of her ability to care for others so well, and of how I want to do the same for her. It’s that driving force that pushes me from the wing and onto the stage. I walk forward, immediately hearing the crowd murmur in surprise, and extend my arm, just like I’ve seen on YouTube. My eyes fall on Ivy, my heart overwhelmed with the feeling of loving her. There’s not going to be much acting on my part tonight, and I hope it shows.
Ivy’s head is turned toward the audience, her toes positioned and dancing through her complex steps, so she doesn’t notice my presence right away. Instead, I have a few seconds to getacross the stage before she spins. As she turns downstage, her gaze lands on me. I register her look of wonder as her eyes scan me from head to toe before a smile breaks out.
My arrival causes her to miss some steps, but she makes up for it by swaying her arms above her head and acting like it’s a surprise to see me appear before resuming her original choreography.
Softly, I grin as she waltzes toward me, an energy in her steps I haven’t seen before. She looks like an angel, her dress having a shimmery layer sewn over it so she can move freely. It catches the light. Sequins have been attached over the bodice and across the sheer long sleeves, and she wears a clip in her hair that catches the spotlights. I prepare my stance, assuming one I’ve watched the great male ballet dancers use. Since my arm is already extended, when she’s close enough to reach me, Ivy only slows for a moment before she places her hand on my arm and balances in an arabesque. She dips toward the ground in a fluid motion, my strength lending itself to her grace.
When Ivy rises, I move behind her, positioning my arms and feet carefully, waiting for her to spin, ready to move her like she taught me. And then she spins, and it’s the most graceful move I’ve seen her make yet. After completing seven of them, she turns to me, her back to the audience, her arms lifted, and she winks before she bends backward, completely trusting my hands to securely grab her hips so she doesn’t fall, her elegantly athletic body showing off her incredible flexibility. When she rises and is facing me again, she nods and turns once more to the audience as my arms extend so she can dance and balance while holding on to me. Together, we walk from one side of the stage to the other. I continue to support her when I can, as Ivy seamlessly adjusts her performance to include my presence.
“Almost ready,” she murmurs as the music builds to a crescendo. When it peaks, I know it’s time to try our lift.
“Okay, Starlight, I’ve got you,” I reply softly on our slow walk to the back wall of the stage. She presses gently into my hand as a sign that she heard me, and then we’re off. I grasp her waist and lift her off the floor. Ivy splits her legs in the air for a few seconds and leans forward to land. Then she spins. We repeat the movement twice before we’re at the front edge of the stage, and she faces the audience once again. I hold her hips and add pressure so she knows she can jump. And then she’s over my head. We’ve only tried this once, but I know her arms are extended and her legs pointed down while her back arches elegantly over my head. I pictured a candy cane when she showed me the picture, but now that I’m participating in it, it’s so much more than that. I feel what she brings to the stage and what she brings to my life.
Ivy is exquisite. Her energy pours from her limbs when she moves. It’s elegant, and it’s sharp. It’s clear, and it’s expressive.
When I lower her gently back to the stage and her feet land, the swell of the music in its final notes causes the audience to stand on their feet. Ivy holds the final pose for a few beats, and then she breaks character to cover her hands with her face and turn to me. I smile and give a nod, motioning for her to turn back and bow. And then I do what YouTube showed me to do. Stepping back, I extend my arm so more of the attention is directed to her, because I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Liam pops onto the stage with a bouquet and hands it to Ivy. With her face all smiles and blushes, she looks like the queen of all things beautiful. She should be able to enjoy every bit of this.
When the applause finally dies down after a full minute of yelling and cheers, Ivy grabs my hand and pulls me backstage. My eyesight has barely adjusted from the change in lighting before her arms are around my neck, and she’s hopping up to wrap her legs around my waist. I grab her to steady her and grin. The troop of tiny dancers returns to shuffle out of the wingsamid squeals and excited chatter. I wink at Emmy as she runs past.
“You just danced with me! On stage!” Ivy proclaims with excitement, trying to contain herself, knowing there’s still one more number for her students to perform. We have about two minutes.
“I did.”
“And your outfit!” She looks down, trying to look at it, when I know the most she can see are my shoulders from the way I’m holding her. “Who made this?”
