The Will to Love

Chapter Two

Fate is a funny thing, if it even exists, Jaymes thought to herself as she watched the man by the name of Robin Leonard Wolfe slip through the glass doors of the Nichols-Kehl School of Dance. A woman and a young girl trailed behind him, the little girl wearing a soft pink ballerina's suit with her black curls slicked up into two puffs atop her head. Jaymes recognized the girl as Nikita, and the woman as her mother and Robin's sister, Lisa. The three were still far from where Jaymes stood by the staircase leading up to the studios on the second level. The metal stair rail did enough to hide her, along with the overlapping arches of the wall above.

Jaymes thought back to the previous evening at the bookshop. Thousands of questions flew through her mind but only one reverberated continuously; "Could it be? Was this the product of Meira?" She crossed her arms in annoyance, subconsciously reacting to the woman's interference. When she said love, she didn't mean her ex-boyfriend Robin. Jaymes didn't know what she meant by love but it wasn't him.

She watched as the duo took in the foyer's expanse, appreciating the private view she had of Robin. How many times had she imagined this moment? How many times had she prayed for this moment? There he stood, clad in a black pullover, dark jeans and sneakers, looking irresistible to Jaymes. Lisa was a shadow against the wall, watching her daughter with hawk eyes. Nikita was still as sweet and joyful as ever, jumping around and tugging on Robin's hand to pull him further down the foyer. Jaymes felt the pull towards Robin deep within her bones. Her heart yearned in its painful and erratic beating.

Jaymes gasped as she heard him speak. "Okay, okay, we'll head over there now. Can't a man admire the architecture?" He said. How many years had it been since she'd heard him speak in person? Not over a phone, sending his regrets or through angry voicemails expressing his discontent? It'd been four years, yet as Jaymes watched him walk away, she realized it felt like a lifetime.

As soon as they walked out of view, Jaymes pushed herself off the railing and leapt up the steps. The second floor of the school was a vision of white; eggshell walls and wood floors that glistened and smelled slightly of pine-sol. There was a long hall framed with studios on either side. At the end of the hall were the administrative offices and locker-rooms. The halls were empty save for a few students wandering around or talking.

Jaymes walked down the hall until she found herself at the door of Denise A. Nichols, otherwise known to her as "mom". Having her own key and knowing her mother kept her door locked between the hours of twelve to one for her own private lunch, Jaymes unlocked the door and walked in.

"Just because I gave you that key, doesn't mean you have to use it." Her mother said before Jaymes came into view. She laughed in response, amused by her mother's annoyance. Jaymes rounded the empty receptionist cubicle and walked down the short hall into her mother's office.

Denise Nichols had straightened her tight, frenzied coils into a neat bun, spotlighting her flawless dark brown skin and dark brown eyes, both of which Jaymes and her sister, Ryan had inherited and the stark red lipstick she'd dabbed on her lips. Pushed aside on her desk was a bowl of unfinished Greek salad, along with a stack of files bursting at the fold.

"Hey mommy." Jaymes greeted her mother with a kiss on the cheek. "What are you doing?" She peered down at the paperwork on her mother's desk.

"Looking through the applications for next semester." Her mother sighed. "I wish your father or grandmother were here to do these but alas-"

Jaymes hadn't meant to blurt out what she said next but curiosity got the better of her and she demanded to know why Robin, Lisa and Nikita Wolfe were currently strolling through the halls of the school. Her mother set her glasses down on the table, careful not to bend them. As she swiveled in the chair to face Jaymes, she placed a manicured hand on Jaymes' knee and squeezed. Jaymes recognized the hidden meaning of the action. Non-verbally, it meant "no hard feelings".