The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

Made to Dance

This entry is part 2 of 2 in the series Chica

Caitlin smiled as her very large husband tried to teach their very tiny five-year-old daughter how to dance. He was leaning over, holding her hands, as she stumbled one way then the other in the living room.

Finally, little Robin flopped down with a pout. “I’m just not made to dance.”

Caitlin knelt next to her. “Do you like to dance?”

Robin scrunched up her nose in evident distaste.

Suddenly, Monster scooped her up and swung her around in his arms. Robin’s delighted peals of laughter rang out as he danced with her in the air.

“Look, Mommy! I’m flying!”

Robin was now a slender, serious ten-year-old with creamy golden skin and shiny black hair. Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as Caitlin went over the waltz with her over and over again.

Finally, Robin sat down with a sigh. “I’ll never get this.”

Caitlin smiled. “Do you like to dance?”

“I’d like to fly,” Robin answered wistfully. She set her face and got up to dance again.

Monster held Caitlin close as they watched their daughter glide down the staircase into her cotillion. She joined her tall, handsome boyfriend in a waltz. Stately, smooth, perfect.

“I think she likes to dance,” Monster whispered into Caitlin’s ear.

“I never got to tell her the rest.”

Robin smiled up into the eyes of her date. Monster smiled down into Caitlin’s.

“I think she knows.”