All things in moderation. Last night’s rehearsal was a good balance of frivolity and focus. It began with my dance partner telling me, “A bit more serious tonight. I have to admit that last week I was a little out of control because I’d had a glass of wine before rehearsal.”
“I see,” I told him. “So it had nothing to do with anything I said or did?”
“Nope,” he told me.
The music begins. We get into position and I tuck my hand into the crux of his arm to ready myself for our upcoming walk on stage. He looks at me oddly. I say, “I know my hand is cold. I’ve been waiting for this moment to put my fingers on your arm so your skin would warm them up.” He grimaces, “Uhh, thanks.”
The music cues us to our stage entrance and we make it all the way through to our positions where we are mixing and mingling with the other party guests. The maid offers us a glass of champagne. I always refuse because I don’t want to worry about putting the prop (champagne glass) back on the maid’s tray later on. My “husband”, however, always accepts… making me appear to be the designated horse-and-buggy driver.
Another man at the party suddenly says to me, “I see you’re not drinking tonight.”
I tell him, “I’m trying to keep my wits about me, unlike some people.” I glance at my “husband”.
The man continues, “Oh? Well, he told me it’s because you’re pregnant.”
At this moment, my “husband” shies away from me. I begin to tap my foot and fold my arms across my chest whilst glaring at him. He looks back at me and says nothing, but shrugs and smiles.
A little later on, my “husband” comments on the fact that I never look in his eyes while we’re dancing. I tell him that I am purposely avoiding doing so because every time I look in his eyes, I burst out laughing. He said, “I’m going to write ‘LOOK HERE’ on my forehead with arrows pointing down at my eyes.” I said, “Then I will wear glasses that have eyes staring at you, while I’m actually looking somewhere else.”
. . .
So there’s this one dance step later on where my “husband” and I are dancing back-to-back, holding hands, with our clasped hands up in the air. We are supposed to be looking at those hands… but instead, he looks down away from them and I look up. We have two weeks left of rehearsals to get this move right. But in the meantime, we’re doing it wrong, yet debating whether or not it’s more “true-to-life” to look away from each other because it gives the audience a subtle clue that our relationship is dysfunctional.
By the end of rehearsal, my “husband” has flirted with every woman at the party. Another man calls him on it. My “husband” defends his most recent chat with a female party guest by saying, “All she did was ask me if I came here alone.”
“And what did you say?” the man asks him.
“I told her, ‘Kinda.'”
My “husband”, of course, came with his “wife” and “three daughters”… so he is laughing as he attempts to innocently deliver his punchline.
But later on when we’re taking a break to listen to the artistic director’s dance notes, he sits on the floor and pats it with his hand to invite me over to sit beside him. So, I guess all is well in our pretend relationship again.
. . .
The night ends with my real-life daughter and I going through the McDonald’s drive-thru lane after practice. I order two hot fudge sundaes and, when I pull up to the window, the boy at the cash register asks me, “Do you want any nuts?”
“No thanks,” I tell him… thinking to myself, I’ve had enough for tonight. 🙂
– – – – –
In other Nutcracker news… the T-shirt I designed for this year’s show is being printed as we speak, as is the performance program.
I am now moving on to other seasonal activities!
(What those other seasonal activities are, I don’t know yet… but they are out there, and I am going to do them….)