My daydreams involved spotlights and curtain calls, til it happened. After that, the world was different and not as nice. I had been thinking a lot about that night, well over a decade before.The parallels were unnerving—frantic preparation, the short time on stage, the applause, the after party. My mind wanted to avoid what came after the party—tits, clumsiness, dismissal, shame. Like trying not to think of a pink rabbit, I thought of little else. All week I had buried myself in the preparations. Now that it was over, fear began to gnaw at me. I literally jumped when a voice spoke.The was no need to be startled. Martha was right in front of me, in plain sight. She was wearing her own ambivalent expression. Our gazes locked, then she shook her head. "My dear, you have no idea how often I wanted to see you off balance. The way you glide through a room is bad enough. Watching you execute an exercise is intimidating. Normally, impossible standards are counter productive, but you were. I felt protected. And with that I dried off the last plate and looked at him. I leaned in for a hug, but not before he gave me a little poke in the tummy that led to the hug.Following me up to the stairs, we passed my parents. My parents didn’t mind him. They loved him. He had gotten me out of this depressed, bitchy little mood I was in and they were grateful for it. Mainly because I was in that mood for a while, but he snapped me right out of it. He saw through me as if I was transparent. When I was fooling everyone else, I couldn’t fool him. It’s as if he wrote the script for my life and he explained it to me. Whatever it was, I loved it.Whenever he came over to sleep over, he brought his sleeping bag with. This way it looked like he’d sleep on the ground instead of with me. My parents said it was all right, but I really don’t think they bought it. It’s not like we had sex in their presence. Even though we did, they were never home when we did it. So no muffled noises or moans.
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