Up to This Pointe by Jennifer Longo

then you were stuck in the back for some of the jumpy part, then to the right for all the toe stuff. And those turns—you’re kind of amazing at turns.”
    Luke is forgiven.
    - - -
    Candle and lamp light warm the dining room, and Dad waves us—me walking slightly behind Owen so we’re not coming in
together
—to a table beside the wall of windows, which, in the daylight, would afford an amazing view of the ocean. Tonight, the bamboo shades are drawn so it’s cozy, nice just knowing the ocean is there, close enough to hear the waves crash.
    “Oh my God!” Kate pulls me near to whisper so loud I’m sure the people in the kitchen and all the drunkies at the bar hear her. “
Owen!
Did you know he was coming? Why didn’t you tell me?”
    I shrug. “Talk to Luke; they’re joined at the hip apparently.” I work my best feigned annoyance.
    I sit beside Willa, across from Luke and Kate and Owen.
    Okay. He looks like a young Bruce Lee. Jet Li? His arms are all lean and cut—holy crap, that sounds super racist. I’m not saying he’s a martial arts guy; those are just the first famous Chinese actors coming to mind when I imagine being pressed to describe him to someone in a way they might know who I was talking about, to paint the most accurate picture of his really black hair and those eyes and how long is my inner monologue about this dude going to go on and have I said any of this out loud?
    I take a long swig of water. Kate is smiling, leaning into a conversation with Owen, and Mom and Dad and Hannah raise their glasses to Kate’s and my last
Nutcracker
with Simone and to the start of Willa’s years of being angels and mice and soldiers and, maybe one day, Snow.
    Willa reaches up to my shoulder and tucks my black bra strap back under my blouse.
    I kiss the hair-spray-sticky top of her head.
    Across the table, Owen smiles. At me.
    My water is empty, and so I swallow Willa’s entire glass, take her hand, and push back my chair.
    “Let’s go potty, babe.”
    “I don’t need to.”
    “Really? You sure?”
    She nods and dips a hunk of bread into a puddle of olive oil.
    “Well. Okay. Be right back.”
    “I’ll go with you!” Kate jumps up and steers me by my elbow through the crowded dining room, down the stairs, and into the ladies’ room.
    “I’m having a stroke,” she says. “We’ve been talking nonstop. Did you
see
?”
    “I’m on it.” I smile weakly. “Bridal shower’s being planned as we speak.” I lock myself in a stall.
    “He watched the show! He came and sat through an entire ballet recital, and he
liked
it—or at least says he did. He is a stunning specimen of manhood. I could
die.
”
    I step out and join her at the sink, my stomach burning. Boys falling all over Kate is nothing new, but she’s never been so giddy in return. She leans close to the mirror to rub gloss on her lips. “Do you think Luke will actually go through with moving out?”
    “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
    “He better,” she sighs dreamily. “Because then we can go over to say hey to him, and oh gosh, look who just happens to be home, too….”
    I’m grateful she’s thinking about something besides her dumb dad. But this may be even worse. “Hey,” I say. “Addendum thirteen.”
    She hugs me hard and brushes some glitter from my forehead.
    Back at the table, the food has come. “Harp,” Willa whispers, “what is this?” She’s got scallops on her plate, skewered on what look like lavender stalks in bloom. I hold one to my face and inhale. Yep.
    “It’s just a flower,” I say. “It’s a thing now. People make lavender ice cream, lavender honey. I don’t think you’ll taste it; it’s just for the smell. And to be pretty.”
    She frowns. “It’s like perfume soap. Fish and perfume aren’t delicious.” I laugh, wrap my arms around her, and squeeze her tight.
    “I got the scallops, too,” Owen tells Willa. He holds his lavender up and slides the scallops off, cuts the flower stems