Page 32 of Dancing in the Dark

“Ourselves. Something I could control when I became a grown-up was whether I would dance on a stage or not. My mom wasn’t the boss of me anymore.”

“Do you miss it, though?” She straightens out again. Laying my hand on the counter, she plays with the delicate gold chain wrapped around my wrist. “I’m scared I might quit, cos going on the stage makes me feel sick in my tummy. But I’m even more scared that quitting means I’ll miss dancing. And I really love dancing.” She looks up at me through emotional eyes. “Like how you said you really love it. But not on the stage.”

“So… if you don’t enjoy being on the stage, why do you keep asking to go in recitals? You can still dance in Miss Debbie’s classes without having to perform, babe.”

She drops her gaze and shrugs. “I want to like it, and I want my mom to smile for one time while I’m up there. ‘Cept that’s silly, huh? Cos she went to Heaven already, so she can’t.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry, Seraphina.

“I like the smiles my dad smiles when I’m on the stage. And I like the smiles Miss Debbie smiles. Daddy said I should invite Cato or you next time, cos he reckons you’ll both smile really big.”

“Oh my gosh, I know we will.” I turn my hand over and stroke her wrist with the tips of my fingers. “If you ever ask me to come, I promise I’ll be there. No matter what, even if the world is burning and that scoundrel mayor says I have to work. And since I used to be a ballerina too, perhaps that means I’m qualified to tell you all the things you did right? You should probably pack a snack and a chair,” I tease, tickling the side of her wrist. “My list will be long, so we’ll be there a while.”

She chokes out a silly giggle. It’s a sweet sound, a devastating sound. It’s filled with tears and hope and the innocence of a brokenhearted girl. “I’m s’posed to dance on a stage again soon. I don’t know what day,” she snickers. “I don’t know all the days of the week yet, but Daddy said it’s soon.” She rubs the tickle from her forearm and nibbles on her bottom lip. “Maybe if you wanna, and if the mayor isn’t being a scoundrel, you could come.”

“I’ll be there.” I lean across the counter and stop only when our noses touch and her lips quirk into a wide grin. “In the meantime, can I show you something?”

“Yes!” Thrilled anticipation shoves gloominess instantly to the side. “What kinda thing?”

“Well… I don’t know about you, but when I used to go on the stage, I kinda hated all the people sitting in their seats watching me. I felt a bit like a goldfish in a giant bowl, kind of how you said you felt like the other moms and dads were judging you. Do you know what I mean?”

She bobs her head. “I sometimes wish I could be on the stage, but the light can be on them, not me.” She wrinkles her little nose. “I don’t like being in the light while they’re in the dark.”

“Exactly!” I straighten my back and pick up my milk. Drinking half in one go and slamming it back onto the counter with a noisy clatter, I release a dramatic ‘ahhh’ that elicits a drunken giggle from deep in Mia’s chest, then I dash around the living room and drop the blinds. I cut out as much light as I can manage, hurrying along the hall and closing bedroom doors, too. In a flurry of anticipation, I come back to the kitchen and snatch up my phone, then I toe my heels off and navigate to my music app. “Remember how we said I don’t dance on a stage anymore, but how I do still love to dance?” I select a song and set the device on the counter, then I take her hands and draw her off the stool. “Where do you think I dance?”

“Er…” She looks around her living room. “In my house?”

I snicker. “In the dark. As often as I can. And ya know what I discovered the first time I tried?” I sweep her into my arms and wrap her legs around my hips. Holding on tight and meeting her eyes, I spin and spin and spin until we’re both flying. “My tummy doesn’t hurt anymore.”

13

FLETCH

At ten minutes past six o’clock, I walk along my street at a fast clip and blow past the hospital, the drugstore, the morgue. I smile at the neon lights outside the bar flashing Tim’s name, and slipping my phone into my pocket, I push the heavy glass door of my apartment building open and tamp down on the nerves pulsing through my blood.

It’s like waves, but the waves are electrified. Not so much that I’ll die, but enough to make me twitch a little.

And yet, I know who is waiting for me inside, so I release the door and let my grin fly free, then, turning toward my apartment, I grab the handle.

Then Mia’s howling, keening, soul-shattering sob shatters my momentary happiness. Seraphina’s scream of horror has me crashing against my door. Their twin cries make it so my dumb fuckin’ thumbprint scanner doesn’t scan, so instead of my doorknob glowing green, it stays red and beeps at me.

“Mia!” Panic fires in my veins as I frantically remove my thumb and try again. Shoving through my door and skidding into my apartment, I find them both in my living room, blood pouring from Mia’s face. Blood coating Sera’s hands. Mia sobs and Sera screams. The Lion King plays on the television, and then their eyes come to me.

“Daddy!” Fat tears soak Mia’s cheeks and run through the blood on her face. “He died, Daddy! Oh my gosh, he died!”

“Who died? What happened?” I sprint across the room and sweep her into my arms. “Mia! Who died?”

“Mufasa! He died, Daddy, and Simba thinks it’s all his fault.”

“What the fuck?”

Sera screams. Mia bleeds. My heart fucking squeezes. The world is chaotic.

“Why are you bleeding?” I grab Sera’s arm and shake her until she stops screeching. “What the fuck is happening?”

“She lost her tooth!” Heaving, weeping, gagging, she slaps a tiny baby tooth into my hand and covers her mouth. “Mufasa died and Mia chomped down. It came out, and now she’s…” Gag.

“It’s so sadddd!!!” Mia wails. “It wasn’t Simba’s fault, Daddy! It was Scar’s!”