“I can’t wait to come see!” my mother declared, as we all mutually agreed that Sophie was well enough to start getting up and about, heading back to the dance studio. Her burns were healing well. My mother assured her only one patch on her back would likely leave a scar, and even that would fade over time.
The last night before she was set to return back to her apartment, we sat outside together, her in my lap.
“I’ve loved having you living here with me.” I nuzzled her cheek, kissed her neck. She sighed and leaned into me, then rested her head on my chest.
“I love being with you.”
“You could stay, you know,” I suggested, allowing the eagerness to creep into my voice. “You don’t have to move back to your own place. You could move in with me.”
“It’s tempting, Liam,” she agreed, but I could already hear the “no” in her voice. “But I think I need to head back to my own place. I only just got my own feet underneath me. I need some more time on my own before I can, you know…” She looked up at me shyly.
“Marry me and have my babies?” I finished the thought for her. Like I said, I wasn’t holding back any more.
She laughed, snuggling into me. “Yes, that does sound good.”
“So how many do you want?” I asked, arms securely around her.
“How many what?”
“Kids,” I replied as if it were obvious that were the next item up for discussion. “I’m thinking we might really want to go for it. Field our own baseball team.”
“You think?” she laughed. “How many would that take?”
“Nine,” I replied, matter-of-fact. “Though we might want to go for ten just in case one of them needs to sit out an injury.”
“That’s good, like a spare,” she agreed.
“Right.” We both laughed.
“Liam, I want you to know, I feel like I need to move back into my own place but I’m not pulling away. I love this.” She rested her head against my chest, her palm pressed to my beating heart. “I love how open you’re being, how much you’re sharing with me. I don’t want to lose that.”
“You won’t,” I reassured her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.”
I could have left it at that. But, like I said, I was done holding back. “I love you, Sophie. With all my heart.”
She pressed herself against me, her body responding even before she spoke the words, “I love you too, Liam.”
We looked out at the ocean together and I could feel it in my soul, how I could do that the rest of my life, sitting there with her as we grew old together, hopefully with some children, maybe just two or three instead of a whole baseball team running around us. That’s what life was really all about, and I wanted to share it with her.
I didn’t feel like a perfect man. I fell short of my aspirations every day. But I did feel whole with Sophie. She knew me completely, better than anyone else, and she’d still made the highly questionable but undeniable choice to love me. I’d spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of her choice.
19
Sophie
Liam and I were going to finish the studio tomorrow. Of course there were still a million little things that needed to be taken care of. I needed window treatments for sunny days when I held afternoon classes. Lots of days on Naugatuck were cloudy and cool or even cold, but there were a few August afternoons when the glare through the windows heated the studio up to about a zillion degrees.
I needed a bench and a curtain up in the back room, soon to be known as the changing room. That would do for now. In time, I might try to put in some lockers and something more private, but for opening day in just three weeks it would be enough.
I’d set up a website. Regina had a friend who knew all about that kind of stuff. It was amazing how quickly she got it all up and running. Two hours of brainstorming at my folding kitchen table—still hadn’t gotten around to buying something more permanent, but it would happen—and the next day she’d called me to tell me my business had a functioning website. Joy in Dance was officially up and running!
I hired her on the spot on an ongoing basis to update it and help with class sign-ups and payments. I had no idea what I was doing on that end and it didn’t make sense for me to even try to develop that skill set. I’d waste time and screw things up. Far better to keep me out doing what I loved.
Because I loved to dance. Now that I had my own studio, the creativity flowed and I woke every morning thrilled to start the day. What would I teach? To what kind of music? What types of dance should we start offering first?
Lara, my friend I’d reached out to earlier, surprised the hell out of me by showing up on my doorstep one day, bag in hand.
“I’m in!” she’d declared, telling me she was done with the cutthroat world of professional ballet. “I never even liked ballet!” she confessed as if telling me about a heinous crime.
“Then let’s burn your tutu!” I’d agreed, not wanting either of us to waste another minute slaving away to some other’s ideal.
Me, though? I did still love ballet, but the ballet I envisioned didn’t punish for body type or focus on imperfections. It required discipline, surely, but celebrated the grace and fluid movement inherent in the human body. In all of our bodies, if we developed the muscular strength, the flexibility, the deep knowledge of form and position that came from years of practice. I couldn’t wait to infuse it in my students, working together to make ballet not just a thing of beauty, but a source of inspiration and joy.
Liam showed up at half-past eight, right after his 24-hour shift at the station.
“You should have napped first,” I scolded him, still happy to see him as I greeted him with a kiss.
“Today? Not happening.” He kissed me back, holding me in a tight embrace as if it had been more than a day since he’d seen me. As if he’d been thinking about holding me since the last time he’d done it. “Today we’re finishing your studio.”
All we had was the barre to install. We already had mirrors all across the wall on the other side. Now we needed the finishing touch, fixing the barre along the other three walls. Then it would become a dance studio.
He’d assured me we didn’t need anyone else to do it right. He knew what to do and if I helped him, we’d get it all installed that day. I loved the idea of finishing my studio with my own hands.
It took five hours of work, plus an hour break to grab some lunch at a café, but by the afternoon it was all set up. The wooden floors gleamed, the walls spotless and bright, the barre at exactly the right height, secure and steady.
“Thank you!” I threw my arms around his neck, my heart bursting it felt so full. “I never could have done this without you.”
“You’re the one with the vision,” he reminded me. “I tried to talk you out of it.”
“You were just being sensible,” I defended him. “I really didn’t know what I was talking about. The historical preservation society is pretty crazy.”
“But you’re crazier.”
His kisses melted me, as they always did, and he swept me into his arms, carrying me into the back room. “The studio’s officially done. I think we need to celebrate.” He pulled off my shirt and started sliding down my shorts.
“You mean like open a bottle of champagne?” I teased, knowing he had something better in mind.
“Yeah, I’ll go run out and get one,” he agreed while taking off his jeans. He pulled his T-shirt off his head and, I swear, every time he did it gave me a thrill. The man was so fine, all sculpted muscle like a Greek statue.