This is one of two alternate endings for the series of stories: The Sun, the Moon and Stars, This Could B Us, and Roadhouse Garden.
Whichever ending you choose, or both, I hope you continue to enjoy the relationship of Prince and Dana
Time has a way of speeding out of control like a runaway train and, before I can fully comprehend it myself, Anastasia is already turning three. She has begun to show more interest in her instruments out in the playhouse, her favorite, by far, seems to be the drum set. I have noticed her eyeing the piano, and my heart aches with disappointment when she bypasses it, stroking the edge lovingly on her way to the dance room. I don't dare push her, though, her personality is almost a perfect mix of mine and Prince's, so I do my best to wait patiently while she warms up to things.
Dancing, on the other hand, is something she has seemed quite passionate about from the get go, so, now that she's old enough, I ask her if she's interested in taking classes. Even though Anastasia is a turning out to be a very thoughtful child of few words, she nods excitedly at the prospect of dance classes before skipping off to her bedroom to play dress up. Dance class it is, I think to myself before grabbing the phone to contact a couple studios I had been researching.
The prospects for dance studios near me are pretty slim, so I look more towards the larger city of Knoxville. I find one that looks especially promising, although it's over an hour drive, I'm willing to make the sacrifice for Anastasia.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
On the first day of class, I watch anxiously with the other mothers while the children are urged to answer some basic questions as a group. Anastasia, although usually quiet around strangers, but can be outspoken around family, looks like she's struggling with a fight or flight response in the small group of children. Her eyes are wide, darting back and forth, as she hangs to the back of the group watching them raising hands and screaming their answers to the dance teachers questions.
"She's a shy one," one of the mothers makes a comment about my child.
"She is," I whisper back, hoping this experience doesn't scar her for future classes. My anxiety dips when the teacher says, "Let's dance," and flips on the CD player. An upbeat, instrumental piece begins to play.
The children all look around, then stand and start moving. Some running in circles, others just wiggling, and a few shuffling their feet with no rhythm at all. Anastasia watches the other children for a few seconds before moving over to a clear section of the floor. Her eyes close and she begins to sway to the music, letting the tempo take hold, she opens her eyes and starts to dance.
Tears fill my eyes as I watch her spring into action, she's unusually graceful for her tender age, and the teacher looks shocked. It isn't long before the only one moving in the room is Anastasia, the other children have retreated to the edge to watch her. The teacher sneaks glances at me as I beam with pride watching her spin, leap and move to the music.
Anastasia is clueless to everything around her, her eyes are closed again and she's in the zone. That is, until the teacher clicks off the CD player, Anastasia skids to a stop and shoots the teacher an angry glare. I bow my head and stifle a chuckle as my child folds her arms over her chest and stomps her way to the back of the group of children. The teacher starts instructing the children to line up, then shows them some basic warm up moves. Anastasia looks bothered and bored, making me want to hide in the back of the group of mothers.
When the first class is over, the children all run to their mothers, talking excitedly and bouncing. Anastasia approaches me more solemnly, again watching the other children's antics with interest.
"Did you have fun?" I grin down at her.
She pulls one corner of her mouth back as she thinks. "It was okay," her words are soft. I eye my child, knowing she's placating me.
"It's just the first class, let's give it some more time, okay?" I reach out my hand to take hers.
"Okay," she agrees, placing her hand in mine.
We are halfway out the door when I hear the teacher call out, "Mrs. Nelson, may I have a word with you?"
We step back through the door, "It's Ms., and yes, of course."
"Anastasia, would you like to wait in here?" the teacher indicates the dance room. When Anastasia nods, she squats down and whispers, "You can turn on the music if you want. Do you know how?" Anastasia nods politely and walks over to the CD player, flipping it on like she does at home. It isn't long before she's fully immersed in the music again.
The teacher watches her for a few moments before turning to me. "I don't think these group classes are going to work for your daughter."
I stare at the woman in disbelief, then glance at Anastasia. I'm trying to figure out how to tell her she won't be taking the classes when the teacher smiles and asks: "Could I interest you in private classes?"
There's a sparkle in her eye that lets me know she sees something in Anastasia. "Yes, of course we'd be interested."
