My dad settles into an overstuffed armchair, like he’s at the front row at Bass Hall, and my mom perches beside him.
They’re like proud peacocks.
Aiden set up two speakers at the bottom of the makeshift stage, like he doesn’t already own an incredible music system. From all the whispering between our siblings, I’m assuming it’s an ambiance thing. But I’m just here for the ride.
Evelyn guides Phoebe in, a finger over her lips, so no one will clap until it’s appropriate. They’re truly giving my daughter a moment to remember. Considering their upbringing and how easily they pulled this together, I feel like this house was rich with celebrations.
It gives me more insight into Aiden, and the things he must ache over when he looks around our home. And here we are, adding to them.
Phoebe simply beams in a cotton candy tutu she tugged atop her pajamas, every bit the bright little mess that she is. The colors match all the decor Aiden hauled in, and dots slowly connect. My smile dims a notch. I missed something.
Her hair is in an adorable knot bun on top of her head, and her fuzzy socks make her ballet slippers look too snug. But she’s beaming from ear to ear.
Aiden grins at her, phone in hand. “Same song as last time?”
Panic flutters in my chest.Last time?
Phoebe nods at him, her tiny body straightening from her feet to the tip of her head, like someone pulled a string taut. She adjusts her turnout and her arms to first position.
On her first night of dance class, she came home begging for a beach ball so she could learn to round her arms, just like her teacher. The following weeks were adorable and hilarious.
As the music starts, I recognize it as a beefed-up version of “The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy”. I hope this is something she planned on her own, or I’m going to be devastated that I somehow missed a detail this important.
As she moves, it’s clear that even if I didn’t, I’ve missed enough. Her arms are soft, gliding through the movements with care and pride that make my chest ache.
She’s not perfect, and her balance is wobbly from being sick. She attempts a couple of leaps that I’m convinced she added atthe last minute, but this crowd doesn’t care. They cheer and clap when it would never be appropriate in an actual theater.
But I don’t think they’d care.
And they shouldn’t because my girl is doing incredible. She breezes through the dance with the most serious face, and her little lips purse in concentration, like something important hinges on this performance.
I think she might just take after me, aiming high and taking great care in her art. And it’s not until my mom squeezes my hand that I realize I’m crying.
She’s beautiful.
Toward the end, Phoebe stumbles and her eyes zero in on Aiden. He doesn’t say a word to her. He simply nods in encouragement, a sappy smile on his face.
He looks like a proud dad, and it’s almost too much.
When the music ends, the sound our little gathering makes is deafening. It’s probably a great thing they don’t have close neighbors, because we’d get a phone call about a noise ordinance violationfor sure. There’s stomping, whistles, clapping, shrieking—all for my baby girl.
I take a small step forward, expecting her to barrel into me like she normally would. Only she detours, aiming straight for Aiden.
He catches her without hesitation, swinging her around and hugging her with a ferocity a father should.
“I’m so proud of you,” he says into her hair. “You nailed that grand jeté.”
She wrinkles her nose and blushes. “I messed up. But you said it right this time!”
This time?
Aiden catches my eye, and his expression shifts. He murmurs something to Phoebe, sending her off to the next proud adult,then beelines straight for me. Casually, he catches my elbow and leads me around a corner.
By the time we get there, panic is battling full-fledged in my chest.
“What just happened?” I whisper, gesturing toward the living room. “Why did she have a different costume?And how did you know the ballet moves?”
I’m not proud of this spiral, but it’s occurring to me in rapid-fire that, at some point, when I was simply trying to survive, I finally missed something unmissable.
