Falling Gracefully: A Lesbian Romance

by Cara Malone

  Jessie barely acknowledged Melody’s outstretched hand, though. She grabbed another pen that someone had left on the ledge of the reception desk instead and printed Ellie’s name on the sheet. Melody cursed herself for not having kept the desk clear, and then Jessie was holding her hand out for Ellie.

  “Come on, I’m going to help you put your slippers on and then I have to run an errand for daddy while you’re in class, remember?” She asked as Ellie took her hand and they headed toward the studio with not so much as a glance back toward the desk.

  Melody was left with a pen in her hand and a confused look on her face. She had no idea what had gone wrong, and even if Andy had been right that their moment during the recital didn’t mean anything to Jessie, she’d never expected this outright coldness. Jessie barely even looked at her.

  ***

  The beginner ballet lesson was almost finished by the time Jessie returned. Melody had spent the hour listening to the pitter-patter of a dozen slipper-clad feet dancing across the floor to Fur Elise, a classical number she’d danced a time or two herself.

  There was nothing to do at the reception desk since the next class didn’t start for another forty-five minutes, and she didn’t want to dwell too much on Jessie’s quick departure. Instead, she tried to pick out Mary Beth’s choreography based on the sounds of the girls’ feet.

  This proved particularly challenging given the fact that the class was full of five- and six-year-olds who weren’t very good at executing the steps yet, but Melody needed a challenge right now to keep her mind off everything it wanted to fixate on. Jessie always did blow in and out of the dance school like a tornado, and maybe it didn’t mean anything, but by the way Jessie wouldn’t even look her in the eyes, she got the impression that she was being willfully ignored. Melody closed her eyes and tried to decide if the brushing motion she heard was a jeté or a glissade.

  She’d just about settled on jeté when a familiar, velvety voice said, “Hi.”

  Melody jerked her eyes open, startled, and saw Jessie standing on the other side of the reception desk. She was alone in the lobby when she closed her eyes and didn’t hear Jessie enter.

  “Sorry, did I scare you?” She asked, a delicate blush rising into her cheeks momentarily.

  “Yeah,” Melody said, “But that’s okay.”

  She smiled, then glanced toward the closed studio door. There were about five minutes left in the class and this might be the moment she’d been waiting for – her opportunity to finish the kiss that had gotten away from her in the spring.

  Melody stood up, but Jessie took a tentative step away from the desk.

  “I’m back earlier than I expected,” she said. “It would be rude to interrupt the class now to go sit with the other moms.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” Melody said, and she took a step toward the end of the reception desk. She wanted nothing more than to walk around the desk and pull Jessie into her arms. “You should stay here with me.”

  Jessie’s eyes grew a little larger as she watched Melody coming around the desk, and she sank down into one of the chairs lining the wall beside the reception desk. “I’m just going to sit here and wait if that’s okay.”

  Then she looked away, toward the window at the front of the lobby. It seemed like a pretty pointed gesture, and Melody sank disappointedly back into her chair. Did she do something wrong?

  They sat in silence for a few minutes, the cool-down music that Mary Beth always used filtering into the little lobby and doing nothing to cut the tension between them. It was obvious that Jessie was ignoring Melody on purpose, keeping her head turned as far away as possible, and finally Melody couldn’t take the silence any longer.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  Jessie looked at her and Melody was a little relieved to see that she looked confused at this question. Not mad, then – something else. Pained?

  “No, I’m not mad,” Jessie said, though her tone was still clipped.

  “Should I not have tried to kiss you?” Melody asked when it became clear that Jessie wasn’t going to offer any more explanation without being prompted. Jessie’s eyes darted to the studio door at the word ‘kiss,’ and Melody knew that the class was about to let out. She’d heard that cool-down song a half dozen times this week alone, and there were only a few seconds left.

  She watched Jessie’s face twist into a mask of anguish for a moment, her lower lip quivering slightly, and it was hard not to fly out from behind the reception desk and try to comfort her.

  “I can’t be around you,” she said, finally meeting Melody’s eyes. The music cut off and the studio erupted into activity as the dancers gathered their things and their parents ushered them toward the door. Just before it opened, Jessie said, “I’m married.”

  Melody’s mouth dropped open and then the lobby filled with chattering kids and goal-oriented parents, everyone colliding in the small space as they tried to find room to put on street shoes and get out of there. Melody couldn’t tear her eyes off of Jessie, and Jessie stared straight back at her for a moment. Melody tried to read into that look, to figure out what her words meant for the two of them.

  Then Ellie came tearing out of the studio and threw herself into her mother’s arms. Jessie looked away first and Melody watched her expression. It took her a second too long to wipe away the anguish and turn it into a smile for Ellie, but then she was right back in her role as the devoted mother, and Melody could practically see the moment she ceased to exist in Jessie’s world.

  ***

  Jessie was true to her word and Melody didn’t see much of her for the next few months. She’d come in with Ellie, carefully avoiding Melody’s gaze as she signed her into class, and then she would either go directly into the studio with her or she’d dash off to run another errand while Ellie was occupied. When class ended, the two of them would walk out of the studio and immediately head for the door. Ellie still gave Melody a hug when she saw her and waved goodbye on her way out, but Jessie seemed to be doing her best to pretend Melody wasn’t even there.

  The next time they spoke was at Mary Beth’s school-wide Halloween party.

  Melody had been drafted to participate in trunk-or-treat for the younger kids and she stood in the frigid air of the parking lot along with about a dozen parents and a couple of the dance instructors. She borrowed her dad’s car again and with Andy’s help they filled the trunk with plastic skeletons in tutus and big pipe cleaner spiders wearing eight cardboard tap shoes each.

  “I’m telling you, this scene would be so much creepier if we made some of that corn syrup Hollywood blood and threw it all over the exterior of the car,” Andy said as Melody hot-glued tulle around the hip bones of a skeleton. “All that gore on a white car, it would look so realistic.”

  “I don’t think realistic blood and five-year-old ballerinas are a good mix,” Melody said. Then she thought for a minute and said, “Okay, alternative option. The outside of the trunk looks perfectly normal, no fake blood, but we paint the Pavlova logo on it. When you get close to the car, a ballerina pops out from under the bumper and slices your Achilles’ tendon, then the trunk pops open and the director of the dance program jumps out and asks you to pack your bags.”

  “You’re right,” Andy said. “That’s far more appropriate for an audience of kids.”

  “Just keep gluing tap shoes to those spiders,” she told him.

  Melody’s trunk turned out to be one of the least impressive. As she stood in front of it with a bucket full of candy and kids dashed up and down the line of cars, she looked at the others and tried to guess how much time and money had gone into each of them. Some of the dance moms had built complete worlds in their trunks, dioramas with educational and interactive elements. Certainly more than a couple of stoned teenagers could muster, in any case.

  For the first half hour or so, Melody dutifully passed out candy from the bucket that Mary Beth provided, commenting on the kids’ costumes and trying not to look for Jessie and El
lie.

  Mary Beth, dressed in a mime costume with her face painted white, came by a few times to refill everyone’s buckets, and on her second pass she stopped at Melody’s trunk. “That’s very clever. Did I tell you that?”

  “No,” Melody said, scooping fun-sized candy bars into her bucket from Mary Beth’s supply. “I’m afraid I’m not winning any awards if it comes down to a competition between me and the moms, though.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that,” Mary Beth said, and she stood beside Melody for a minute or two, watching the chaos around them. There was no one currently at Melody’s trunk (they were all occupied with the carnival games and prizes to be won in the other trunks), and after a minute Mary Beth said, “Can I ask you a question, dear?”

  “Sure,” Melody said.

  “What do you think about teaching?”

  “Umm, it’s a dirty job but somebody’s got to do it?” Melody asked, wary of the direction this conversation was taking.

  Mary Beth laughed, then said, “No kiddo, I meant you, specifically. What would you say if I asked you to teach a class or two? I’ve got a lot on my plate and it would be a tremendous help.”

  “Oh-” Melody said, her heart rate skyrocketing and her hands clenching around the handle of her candy bucket.

  “Before you say no,” Mary Beth cut in, “Please take some time to think it over. It could be a great career path given your background, and I bet there are a lot of people in Lisbon who would love to have their children trained by a Pavlova dancer.”

  “Former Pavlova dancer,” Melody corrected. “I’m afraid my dancing days are over. Besides, I’m not a teacher.”

  “I could mentor you,” Mary Beth insisted. “I know I hired you as the front desk girl, and you’ve done a truly remarkable job of organizing everything up there. But I can tell you’re capable of a whole lot more. What if I arrange for you to just teach one class and see how it goes? I know just the student-”

  “No,” Melody said, feeling a lump forming in the back of her throat and her hands going shaky at the idea. The thought of stepping foot in a dance studio was enough to send her into a panic attack, and it was the exact thing she’d wanted desperately to avoid when she took this job. “No, Mary Beth. That’s not what I signed up for.”

  Fortunately, a butterfly and a bumble bee came over to Melody’s trunk with their pillow cases extended for candy, and Mary Beth wandered away. After the kids left with their bags slightly heavier, Melody leaned against the bumper and put her fingers to her throat to feel her pulse. Her heart was pounding and she felt a little dizzy at the idea of being forced into a studio. She’d have to put her ballet slippers on, and a leotard, and the thought alone made her want to be sick.

  After a few minutes, during which time everyone mercifully avoided the inadequately decorated trunk and the green-looking girl leaning against it, Melody felt her heart rate level out and she started to feel better. She’d stood her ground, and hopefully the idea of teaching would never come up again.

  “Miss Melody!”

  She heard her name being shrieked across the parking lot and knew that Jessie and Ellie had arrived. Ellie came running and threw herself into Melody, wrapping her arms around her hips. Melody saw Jessie from across the parking lot, coming slowly after her daughter, and Melody’s pulse quickened. Then Ellie broke the embrace and stood back so that Melody could look at her costume. “Guess what I am!”

  Melody had to tear her eyes off of Jessie.

  Ellie was wearing an oversized white sweater with little glittery pom-poms sewn all over it along with a pair of tan leggings, and a large red ball made of Styrofoam was tied to her ponytail.

  “Hmm,” Melody said, glancing over to Jessie for help. She gave none, though, so Melody asked, “Are you a polka dot monster?”

  “What? No!” Ellie said incredulously. “I’m an ice cream cone! Look, these are my sprinkles.”

  She pointed to the pom-poms and Melody threw her hands up. “Of course! I don’t know how I missed it.”

  “In all fairness, her mom’s not the greatest seamstress in the world,” Jessie said bashfully.

  “Better than I could do,” Melody said, pointing to her sparse trunk. She didn’t want to show it, but she was relieved that Jessie was talking to her – after her admission in the lobby, Melody wasn’t sure what to expect. She lowered her bucket of candy so that Ellie could reach it and said with a wink, “You better take a few extra pieces, Little Miss Ice Cream.”

  “Thanks!” Ellie said, shoving her hand into the bucket, and then she skipped over to the next trunk in the line.

  Melody expected Jessie to follow her daughter, probably without another word to her, but instead she lingered in front of Melody’s trunk, inspecting the skeleton in its tutu. She said, “That’s pretty creative.”

  “Only if you haven’t seen any of the other cars yet,” Melody said. “Some of these moms are like professional set designers.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Jessie answered with a roll of her eyes. “On our way in, I saw a velociraptor whose costume would have put the Jurassic Park special effects guy to shame.”

  Melody laughed and Jessie joined her, eyes flashing over to where Ellie was playing a modified game of Skee-Ball in someone’s trunk.

  “It’s pretty clear that neither of us took this event serious enough,” Melody said. “Next year I should let my friend Andy go all out and cover the car in Hollywood blood like he wanted to.”

  “Honestly, I’m probably going to put in the same amount of effort again next year,” Jessie said with a shrug. She was watching as Ellie sank her ball in one of the Skee-Ball cups, her eyes lighting up. “Look how happy she is being a half-assed ice cream cone.”

  “Oh, who am I kidding?” Melody said with a snort. “The Mom of the Year over there will probably have a functioning carousel in her trunk by next year, so it’s not like I’ll ever be able to top that.”

  “Why would you want to?” Jessie asked. It felt good to have a conversation with her again – Melody was starting to worry that she’d scared her off and they’d be doomed to clipped, curt conversations over the reception desk forever.

  “Well, it is part of my job,” Melody said. “Although I didn’t realize trunk-or-treat was included in my job duties when I took the receptionist position.”

  “Excuse me for saying so,” Jessie said a bit tentatively, then soldiered on, “But don’t you want more than that?”

  Melody felt her pulse quickening again. What was going on with everyone today? She was half-expecting her father to pop out of the nearest trunk next and give her an earful about not fulfilling her potential.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Melody asked, trying not to let too much of an edge creep into her voice.

  “I just meant that this seems like a pretty temporary kind of gig,” Jessie said. “Part time, not many hours. I figured you were working here while you go to college or something.”

  “Nope,” Melody said sharply. “This is my life.”

  For a minute or two, they stood together watching Ellie bounce ecstatically from trunk to trunk, the silence between them growing a little uncomfortable. Then Jessie asked, “But why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Melody, I know that I don’t know you very well, or at all for that matter, but I could tell the minute I met you that you’re smart,” Jessie said, and Melody couldn’t help being at least a little flattered by this. “Why are you content with some part-time gig with no responsibility when anyone who has eyes can see you’re capable of so much more? Why don’t you go to college?”

  “Jesus, I knew this was my dad’s car, but I didn’t realize I was talking to him, too,” Melody said. It wasn’t fair, and it certainly wasn’t how she wanted to talk to Jessie after such a long period of silence between them. But she was on edge from her conversation with Mary Beth and it was too hard to hold back. “Why don’t you go to college?”

  “Melody, I have a five-year-old d
aughter, two jobs, and half a GED,” Jessie said. “Even if I was eligible, I couldn’t afford it and I wouldn’t have the time for it. What’s holding you back?”

  “I spent the first eighteen years of my life eating, sleeping, and breathing ballet,” Melody said. “I’m not built for anything else. At least for now, I have no choice but to work the desk here.”

  “No choice?” Jessie asked, and she nearly spat the words in her surprise at them. “Waste away here for five years and then tell me how few options you’ve got.”

  “Thanks, dad, I’ll keep that in mind,” Melody said with a roll of her eyes. She had no idea why everyone had decided to gang up on her today, but she was just about done with it.

  “Do you know what it’s really like to have no options?” Jessie asked. All the fire in her voice was drained away now and she said calmly as she looked into Melody’s eyes, “Try being sixteen years old and having to sit on the floor of your classroom because you just realized your belly no longer fits behind a desk. Try going to the office and to tell them you’re dropping out, hoping the whole way there that they’ll convince you to stay and help you figure out how to work your school schedule around morning sickness and prenatal appointments. And then when you get there, you realize they’re secretly thrilled that you and your big belly are finally going to stop darkening their doorways because all they see you as is a bad influence on the other kids. Try going home after that and crying because you made one stupid mistake that ruined every plan you had for your life. That is what having no options looks like. Wake up, Melody.”

  Then she walked away across the asphalt, looking for her daughter, and Melody gave the back tire of her dad’s car a swift kick, her candy bucket almost spilling in the process.

  CHAPTER 14

  Jessie was in the middle of a long and tedious shift at the grocery store and there weren’t many customers in the store at the moment. The managers always hated to see cashiers standing around doing nothing, or worse – talking to each other – so usually she tried to keep herself busy during these lulls. It was a crime to enjoy yourself at work, or so the management staff believed.