The past week had been interesting to say the least. Michelle now knew what joint custody felt like. The night after their couch session, Sasha had agreed to go "home", with the understanding that she could return if she needed to get away. Fights and rants and the occasional amateur cage match had sent Sasha back at least once a day, refreshments to the overnight bag that was living in the bathroom clutched in a white knuckled grip. Nights that occurred without an announcement of impending arrival still typically saw the young dancer feverishly practicing in the quiet studio until the older dancer found her, hugged her and took her home to the guesthouse.
Hugs and couch cuddles were frequent; playful arguments about teeth brushing and who got which side of the bed added to the domesticity. They played board games and popped popcorn and worked on choreography and watched cheesy broadcast entertainment and painted each other's toenails and had pillow fights; if it got Sasha to forget, Michelle was willing to try it. Though less a surrogate mom and more a crazy cool aunt/big sister, Michelle's combination of safety, affection, freedom and authority seemed to give both of them a good place to be.
Arriving home early from her date, she'd suspected Sasha might be attempting another Roman-tic encounter. The unlocked studio and the click-click of Blackberry buttons confirmed it. I don't know if it's those multivitamins or just less hairspray fumes, but I am definitely getting smarter.
"We've gotta stop meeting like this." The young dancer swung to face her like a gunslinger facing a challenge. Ohhh, goody; sarcastic Sasha was in. "Or take it to the next step. Marry, have a couple of kids." Deciding to keep up the banter to keep down Sasha's guard, Michelle approached. "Who bears the children?" "We'll alternate." "Your hips, my boobs… that'll work. Plus it would be nice if we could share the stretchmarks."
Their discussion of Roman hadn't gone quite how either expected. Sasha was expecting a parental boy ban, and Michelle was expecting a Romeo and Juliet star-cross'd Twilight "we're young and in love" drama surge. The honest discussion that transpired was… open and real and… useful, almost the way they saw families talk on TV. It was conversation neither would have with actual relatives.
Watching Michelle offer her the Talk was kind of adorable, and even though she didn't need it (a drunken rant on the miseries of sexual interactions hurled at your head when you're seven tends to stick with a girl) she honestly would've enjoyed hearing the showgirl's experiences, her world wise take on things. If they hadn't been interrupted by the crunch of gravel outside, she might have gotten her wish. Figuring her text to "ABORT!" had gone unheeded, she was surprised when Michelle identified the visitor. She started towards the door, but a moment of hesitation hit her mid-stride, and her fingers twisted themselves together near her ribcage.
"What's up, buttercup?" Even in the dim studio, the worry in Sasha's eyes was clear. "Do… Do I have to go out there?" Her heart went out to the girl, and she longed to tell her no, that they could sneak out the back and into the guesthouse and just ignore the woman outside… Instead, she pressed a hand to Sasha's shoulder and gave it a squeeze before answering, "Well, you could try making a break for it, but it might be less hassle to just deal with it now. It might hurt a bit, but it'll be over faster than letting it build. Like popping a blister on your toe." The amused ewwww Sasha let out made them both feel better. She squared her shoulders and headed outside.
5 minutes later, Sasha watched her mother stalk off into the night like a pissed off panther, and stood hugging herself against the sudden chill. Silent inactivity ruled for a minute, then she turned to head back into the studio. Her head down, she only had time to note Michelle's black leather booties before she bumped into something warm and solid- a something that gently tipped her chin up, brushed away a tear she hadn't noticed falling, and wrapped her in a soft hug.
"Why doesn't she understand? Everything I know, everyone I lo- care about is… here" Sasha was ashamed by the emotion in her voice, the sad little quiver her mother had been able to pull out of her. The older dancer tucked the girl's head beneath her chin and pulled her closer, rubbing little circles between her shoulderblades to soothe and comfort. "She may not, but we do. Fanny and the girls and me. We'll figure it out… somehow."
Some of the tension holding the young ballerina taut exited in a puffed cheek sigh, and she hugged her mentor back. "What about tonight?" Michelle's cheeky reply actually prompted a giggle. "Well, that 'next step' idea had some merit, but I think Vegas is a little out of my range right now. Would you settle for a lumpy couch and mint chocolate chip ice cream?" Sasha pulled out of the hug, but stuck to Michelle's side as a small grin lit up her face. "Oh sweetie. You know just how to spoil me."
Author's Note: this was run off in a hurry after tonight's episode. It just... lent itself to the story.
You know the drill. Like it or not, tell me so.
