CondemnedBy Maria Lewytzkyj

Chapter One – Devant Avenue

It was two weeks before opening night and Richard stood in the early morning silence of Devant Avenue harassed by a bird. Was it possible to be mocked by a bird? Half of a disheveled nest drooped wilting from the mustard yellow awning over the darkened theater sign baring ordinary clumps of sticks and mud splats. Unfinished and uninhabited, the nest lampooned the embryonic rehearsals last night. Every cell of Richard’s body wanted to hurl the nest out of sight for fear that the bird may return and get cozy. The theater walls needed fine perceptible edges and distinction, which it achieved from its Eastlake embellishments fixed to an expansive porch of the unusual Greek revival shotgun architecture on Devant Avenue.

A bird nesting over a group of patrons in a line would prove to be more than eye candy if they kept looking up. Richard could see how that might just ruin the mood for the night. Standing on a ladder, Richard removed the partial nest. He held it as if it was infested. He was tightlipped delirious with his dander showing, laughably over a bird’s choice to muck up the Eastlake flourishes.

The timing couldn’t be worse on the part of the bird, yet the sense of relief he felt mildly irritated him in the sense that taking care of details before a show didn’t usually include exiling birds.

He held onto his irritation for another few minutes.

Stepping down, he wondered how luxury was possible nowadays, as he watched a brownish-grey bird land on the tree at the end of the sidewalk. “There, build it there,” he whispered under his breath. He rolled his eyes. Next he’d be carrying bread crumbs and getting a park bench installed by the tree.

He dragged the ladder back inside. The interruption to his morning routine ruffled his feathers. Opening the facilities closet, he wished the facilities manager hadn’t buried the ladder behind buckets and mops. He carefully placed the ladder back in the room and made a mental note to talk to them.

His stream of phone meetings was to start shortly. Standing over his antique Victorian walnut inlaid kidney-shaped writing desk, with his flawless jeans slightly visible over the top of the desk, Richard faced the back wall. He listened to the messages. A gorgeous red scarf lay serpentine around a silver-lined dish that looked like a sad tear in the middle of a half-melted red candle. Richard’s reddish-brown hair barely touched the back of his sweater. He loved sweater weather especially given that it made him look so approachable. Dancers left messages. Others called with administrative questions, but Richard was specifically searching for anything that might pertain to him. Often, people pressed the wrong number when leaving a message.

Richard’s good looks were difficult to avoid. His mouth seemed to be carved for kisses and his eyes seemed to strip away any chance of guiding anyone into a saloon of thieves and wanted men, because there was a look to them like his bullshit radar was on at all times.

He picked up the draft version of the season’s opening ballet program for “Giselle” and thumbed through to review the order of the scenes. In one of the scenes practiced last night, Richard watched the dance between Albrecht and Giselle during a pas de deux and fixed his gaze on Giselle’s hand. He fell spellbound. From her perch above Albrecht’s head, her long slender fingers fell against Albrecht’s immense back. Richard felt the fingers on his own back faintly and realized he hadn’t been entangled in a lover’s embrace since before he took his job with this particular ballet company. Impression Repertory ballet company had devoured him whole, like a buttonhole.

Returning back to the moment, he heard another phone message asking for audition times. His eyes fell on the red scarf as he imagined that a glorious hip ready for handling could hold the scarf effortlessly instead of this cold surface.

The regularity of the lack of reassurance in his life was a constant as more often than not people came to him with countless worries and commotions. He was well practiced at the art of composure in dire circumstances. Under a different set of circumstances he would have found the presumptions of those in his company and those it attracted unbearable. He’d already suffered the humiliation of a few grandparents calling to secure spots in the ballet for their naive granddaughters.

He simply and tactfully let people know that while the town of Maplefire was the only theater to show ballet, they did hire dancers from around the world.

When Brenda walked in, Richard’s foot rested on top of his chair as one of his arms leaned over his thigh. From behind, he appeared to Brenda like it would be so easy to tell him that it didn’t complement him to stand on one leg like an ostrich. She figured time would tell whether this man buried his head in the sand in times of discomfort. She had obviously caught him at the right time to interrupt as she cleared her throat with her casual maleficence. Richard turned his head with a quick smile and encouraged her to sit down pointing to his phone.

Was there a hair on the seat? She chose to stand. The inglorious underbelly of stagehands was filled with little worthy of the stage in her self-satisfied estimate.

She managed to conceal an explicit laugh when she looked at his collection of paintings that to her taste served brush companies repeat business with little hope of endorsement. She wondered what he would say if she started talking generally about people’s bad taste in art.

Her impatient hand flipped her blonde hair beneath her neck as only an excuse to vent her restlessness. If she sat down she would have to make pleasant talk with this minus who still hadn’t turned to greet her. What was she expecting from a man who had just removed a bird’s nest from the portico with obvious irritation? She was overestimating him for a better response.

She had been parking and staring at his fastidiousness in full display. What harm would a bird’s nest do, she wondered, especially when considering a children’s theatre audience? They stood in lines only to show each other pictures of their own kids and grandkids. Birds’ nests would be cute to them.

Her sister was the only one in the family who had ever bought a bird guidebook. When she shared it with Brenda, her sister got an earful about how the birds in the guides always looked good for wallpaper designs, but to encourage people to spot them as a sport was a waste of precious time. How often did someone spot the bird they were looking for?

Now, she sat in Richard’s office and for the first time felt sorry for a bird. She started to go through the list of things she had to do today, desperately. He was cutting into her time now. She recalled her favorite accessories shop near the

hardware store down the road that she needed to stop in as soon as her work was done here.

Richard finally turned and saw Brenda, surprised it was not who he expected. He hung up hurriedly. He must have only taken a cursory glance moments ago. Now he looked slightly embarrassed. Briefly, Brenda remembered all the years of being invisible to her first husband. She shook the discomfort. She figured it was the brand of detachment she could more honestly appreciate.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” said Richard. Richard noticed that she was dressed in a pale brown-striped suit with a silk-patterned chemise predominantly displaying gold tones. He couldn’t help noticing the dangling loop earrings that sometimes tangled in her attractive blonde hair. He wondered if she had more than her straight business cut-and-dry image, but her face didn’t seem familiar enough to place it at any of the events that they held at the theater.

Brenda responded, “Richard, I assure you that I will be brief. My name is Brenda Glinden. You may have seen that I have from time to time donated to the ballet. It is a beautiful art, I’m sure of it, and as a tradition, I find that it is well worth the sweat and tears of all involved in these productions. I know that when I dabbled in theater in college, I spent many hours after the last curtain call wondered how I could ever relate to my neighbors on equally as fascinating a level in comparison to the moments spent together in the theatre.”

Richard said, “Yes, we experience wonder as a shared experience through stories and movement. Within the walls of a theater the imagination is ignited.”

Her decision to dominate in situations always came through. Some people would quickly become subservient, taking the role, and the chair they prepared for her.

Brenda continued, “While a discussion about the philosophy of theater and its benefits is provocative, I must inform you that you will need to find a new space for your season opener. I considered sending a letter, but then realized I would be driving by this morning and I just needed to get it over with.”

Brenda paused and took a quick breath. “Sorry, I had something in my throat. The lease for the theater will not be renegotiated with your theater company, I’m sorry, and while this may cause you some pain, I assure you that we will obligatorily inform your next space of the value that you have temporarily brought to the community. I know your dancers’ and stagehands’ time is valuable and we…”

Richard interrupted, “This catches me by surprise Ms. Glinden. I can assure you that on behalf of the theater company we can deliver what is necessary to make Maplefire thrive and this building’s lease to us is worth another year, maybe even 5 years. We have gained some popularity amongst those in our community that like our selected works and our talents.” Brenda appeared to be distracted, given that she couldn’t actually look Richard in the eyes.

“I’m heading to Las Vegas next week to drag some conventioners here and consider future developments. I must suggest to you that while ballet and

performances may have entered some hearts here in Maplefire, the ballet, while I am known to love traditional ballet amongst my clients and friends, is not entering into lucrative partnerships in town. Richard, we cannot afford frankly to have you think that you are providing a big or relevant service to our community. It may come as a surprise, but even those who have patronized can drive only 50 minutes to the entertainment centers that bring in world-class talent. This parade of community theater style is not my bag and yet, of course I love ballet. I believe I saw one here recently, maybe the ticket stub is at home. I rarely empty my purses, you know, it’s truly funny what I find in there at times.”

“ I would so much as be shocked to think that all of our hard work in our space hasn’t both paid off for you and for our patrons. That includes those who enjoy touring Maplefire and appreciate their stay,” said Richard.

Richard noted her plain purse and plain shoes. Brenda appeared to depreciate before his eyes, as he felt the sting of her words devaluing their company effort. He’d spent hours, months, now almost a year elevating the company’s artistic profile only to hear her abuse his effort and diminish its worth, with her ‘time’s up’ routine. His books, the community rosters, the community love notes to him and his dancers and the artistic director suggested a very different story. Maybe she was protecting someone’s big money interest, but he didn’t buy her value estimation. Richard was sure she would underestimate Martha Graham, Josephine Baker, and Donnie Burns. These were all pistol-imbued words toward parting shots, for her séance with her lethal recklessness. Who would Ms. Glinden promise the building to?

Richard continued, “Ms. Glinden, we do not simply provide community theater style and while your personal preference is noted, we deliver an established artistic profile.”

He stood up. “Certainly, you and I are far from well-acquainted, as acquainted as you may be with buyers on the market. I’m not sure how the board of directors will take this news. I can assure you that our community has showered us with love and with hopes that there are many seasons to come. I assume that you may be pricing the lease differently moving forward, however, we would consider how best to tap our donor bases or meet with agreeable terms with you in our negotiations to reissue the lease.”

Brenda stood and stared at Richard, “Business is neither your forte, nor your line of work. The computer repair store interested in this space may be willing to wait until your season opener is performed, but it would appear to be misleading to our community if you present an opener and then move your company to a new building. Consider your patrons, Richard. A new building may very well be the best opportunity that you’ve had all day. Spreading your wings may be a good thing.”

With that, Brenda placed her card on the table, “Let me know what you decide, Richard. You may be ready for the big leagues from what you’re saying. Maybe 50 miles away.”

Richard defended against her cold shoulder, and let her suggestion linger in the air like an approaching storm. Suddenly, Richard defended against her suggestions.

“The big lights can be fundamentally attractive on our street Brenda, while the commonplace lights from many broken computers don’t belong in here. It would diminish the opportunity that some in our community have discussed about making this area an arts district. Needless to say, I have negotiated labor contracts and our operations terms for our company for years and our attempt to secure this building last year was meant to be agreeable both to you and our future partnerships in the community.

Future seasons will propel your realty company as we promote a brighter arts district without diminishing returns. The rigor associated with disciplined artistic work will in turn bring Maplefire more long-term possibilities. Certainly, the business model for arts that we apply is successful and no less valuable than the short sales and resales that you conduct.”

At first blush, Brenda appeared to reject his words given how many times she’d heard tenants grovel. Underneath, Brenda felt impressed momentarily that Richard was making an offer, although it was one that she could easily dismiss, given her low vote of confidence that an arts district would be of any use.

She felt mildly uneasy, thinking of different artists involved in the community. It didn’t bring wealth, and she had rarely felt comfortable in the company of an artist. She wondered if at any time he would realize that the only way to get people interested in an arts district would be to incentivize it, maybe by buying their affections, but even then, who had the time or patience for art, plays or ballet?

Richard noted her silence, interpreting it as a potential opportunity to warm her pebbly gaze in future community outreach. “It’s possible to provide you with advertising in our programs at either no cost or a low cost. Some of the finest people from around the world come here. Wouldn’t you agree that your community would benefit from your local handshake with those who witness international or regional successes? Look, consider a counter-proposal I will give to you tomorrow. I would like you to meet with some of our head dancers, especially Stella. She too has a stake in this and I believe it would be useful to you in your outreach. You may be aware that our dancers are absorbed by Maplefire’s charm and hospitality.”

Brenda displeased now that she was running late to get to her shop and regretting not having written a letter, snapped, “I can assure you Richard that it won’t be easy to outdo the offer that is on the table, however, to honor your attempt, I will meet with you and Stella. Say tomorrow at 11?”

Richard said, “Yes, Stella will be practicing at that time. Say, at noon?”

Brenda accepted. She told him, “You should get used to starting over. I can really lift you out of this place and give you a fresh start.”

Richard seemed so impressionable to Brenda earlier.

Chapter Two – Stones and Glass Houses

He hadn’t been raised in a glass house. His self-entitlement had been in check a few times when he’d had to defend interests that verifiably were at odds with doing the right thing. Like that time when he had to stand up for his brother at a dinner party for loudly announcing that the common thread between everyone at the party was that all of them had hoped for a much better time that evening but the host was within earshot.

Certainly, he’d learned a little bit about being humble in the face of adversity that time when he had to compliment the host a number of times and explain that his brother had been mildly bored with everything lately, so he was actually just in a mood and it wasn’t meant to represent the great time everyone else was having.

Or the time, that he had to represent the interest of his overbearing neighbor who decided to replace the perfume in his wife’s bottles with orange juice just to see if his wife would notice the color before she sprayed it on herself. She did notice, while she sprayed herself and threw a screaming fit filled with expletives and screeches, because she thought she had poisoned her skin with a toxic faded chemical that should have been replaced.

Richard had to give his neighbor a little couch space for about a week. He shuttled between the two of them explaining that sometimes it’s best to get out to the movies a few times a month to give the poor guy some better ideas to work with than freak his poor wife out by messing with her toiletries for a little drama. He’d been known for spoiling for a fight from time to time, and Richard had wondered if being his neighbor was such a good idea.

Richard did however often feel entitled to go wherever he wanted, and he wondered how Brenda was going to affect the company and his decision to have the company move to Maplefire in the first place. Maplefire wasn’t the only town that the board had considered. In fact, they had boiled it down to two places. The board members relied on Richard for the deciding vote as executive director of the company. His criteria? It was close to the airports, wonderful towns and art-loving residents.

He hadn’t worried that it was too risky, until now. Maybe they should have picked Stones Range or the vibrant Brick Harbor. He hadn’t taken the decision lightly, but in the end Maplefire seemed like it would be better long term. Now this? How did this Brenda manage to completely lead their plans adrift? Housing a dance company in a building as if she had been holding the seat for someone else? How inconsiderate. He felt like driftwood. At moments throughout the day, he felt like a bowling pin. By evening, he felt like he’d just had a one-night stand without the benefit of a dance, sex, batting eyelashes or even a fancy bar in an elaborate derby room, or a spiritual awakening. Hell, he didn’t even find a hors d'oeuvres toothpick accidentally in his pocket.

He was sure that the feeling that was supposed to accompany feeling used was feeling discarded, but instead he felt like he’d stumbled into the bargain basement and found a real size cut-out of him with tacky lights surrounding his neck as he pointed to the daily special. Was this some karmic vengeance for all the times he’d helped people with their computers?

Brass could be cleaned with vinegar, but how do you shine up a realtor filled with vinegar? She couldn’t have possibly imagined that a theater company could establish itself if it had to move every year.

Suddenly it dawned on Richard. She wasn’t a supporter of ballet. He thought back to the way she presented herself as “known to love traditional ballet amongst my clients and friends,” which she awkwardly volunteered. Then within the time it took Richard to start considering where this conversation was going—maybe she’s a donor, maybe an advertiser, or maybe she wanted season ticket—wham! She slammed the company as “this parade of community theater style” and that it was not her bag and “yet, of course I love ballet.”

What a heap of pedestrian drama! Didn’t she say that she believed that she saw a ballet here and that it was possible she might even still have the ticket stub at the bottom of some purse? As if he would call her on producing the ticket as evidence? What sort of low-life did she see him as? If her purses were as ugly as the one she brought to the surprise meeting, the ticket stub may be the only glossy thing in her wardrobe.

He didn’t want to disturb Stella with details because it might interfere with her concentration during the rehearsal that evening.. Richard spoke to her about meeting Brenda the next day. He contacted one of the board members, John Tantch, to go over the recent complication. John told Richard to avoid being bowled over by Brenda. He was sure that there was a reasonable explanation.

John Tantch had himself recently spoken with someone in the merchant’s association who informed him that the ballet was a great addition to the community and that it’s success would prove successful for many of the local businesses. John thought there could be an open letter written on behalf of local merchants who could line up to show their support for the theater.

Brenda wasn’t acting in the better interest of the community. A computer store could easily find an old mall shop or a store on a different street. It didn’t need foot traffic to gain business. John stopped short of calling Brenda himself, finding it ill-advised. He may very well insult her inappropriately for not negotiating with them.

It was inconceivable of her to simply show up with a decision that had serious consequences on everyone involved in the advancement of the company. This was a decision that wasn’t hers to make alone. However, John did assure Richard that he would talk to the rest of the board in the meantime to start planning on how to secure the theater for the long term.

“If I could keep a perfume factory running for 20 years in a town that smelled more like sewers than the faint smells of rose petals, I can figure out how to deal with a cold hearted double-dealer,” said John as he hung up the phone and wished Richard a pleasant meeting playing hard ball.

Richard told John, “We’re not a fly-by-night operation.” John hung up.

Richard headed over to his favorite market, bought a few ingredients to make himself a fine dinner in the best seat in the house—his table that overlooked a small grove of trees surrounded by the music of towhees and warblers.

He wondered if there was going to be talk among the board members about a lawsuit if Brenda pursued this any further. It wouldn’t surprise him. This was such a shock and a disruption to their operations. Whether Brenda was just playing politics or hadn’t been challenged by previous tenants was still a huge unknown. Mooring a dance company to a leased building was starting to make buying the building a more viable possibility.

Richard left the store, after some small talk with the clerks and a few people he recognized who had been to the theater.

He walked the two blocks home and opened the door. He demanded that the comfort of the night envelop him. He could secure a better deal than the one presented to him with the kindness and expediency of a parking enforcement officer. He was tired of thinking of Brenda. He tried to get her off his mind.

He diced some eggs, onions, bacon bits and his favorite lettuces up into a chopped salad, throwing on some pecans and cranberries before adding a spoonful of his favorite herbal dressing. He’d made this salad forever now. He was comforted by how he could throw it together and not have to think a thing about it. He didn’t notice that at times, he wasn’t that enthusiastic about it. It was something fast and easy.

When Richard was growing up, Richard’s mother Kathy rarely cooked. She made fun of people who participated in culinary arts. Frankly, she thought why would anyone put that much effort into making a meal when it would be gone shortly? Kathy was too busy all the time to understand that food wasn’t just about gender or just to keep you going between meals, it was an opportunity to try different smells, tastes and cuisines and learn more about how they affect us. It was also a lot of fun to try different recipes.

Richard sometimes wasn’t even sure what she was busy doing, but it was usually some personal matter that she had complicated, frankly, by the sounds of it. Richard had often heard Kathy say awkward inappropriate things to other women in the neighborhood about their husbands or other people’s pursuits, always comparing herself to everyone.

She was more comfortable in the fog of impropriety than pretenses. She’d experienced people stepping on her toes all her life. For Kathy, life wasn’t an art, it was a potential insurance claim so she figured the less approachable she was the more likely people wouldn’t run into her.

Subsequently, he grew up with macaroni and cheese and TV dinners. He’d promised that he’d learn to cook someday, but not under the nose of his mother who couldn’t bite her tongue. She hovered over him, even when he tried to boil water and found something wrong with even the simplest of tasks. He needed space to think. He’d given himself that in this job as the executive director of the ballet company. His previous experiences had been mixed. He sometimes cooked, but whenever he found himself completely at the mercy of boxed lunches, he’d recalibrate. Surely, there were plenty of wonderful dinners provided at ballet events, but a quiet home let him put his smiling face away and just be.

Taking a bite of his salad and his pasta, he wondered how he could ever explain to the dancers that the opener wasn’t exactly going to be an opener any longer, but a finale! That would not go over well. He would look like a fool, as would they.

Richard needed to get going on developing a proposal for Brenda to have in front of her during their meeting. He resented that he had to miss watching the rehearsal. He sat down and started to write his proposal, calling on his network of ballet directors around the country to pick their brain on best solutions and viable options. Some of them had experienced the very same treatment and had been able to reverse the negotiation to their favor. Some had to arrange legal resolutions.

He went through his notes. He was positive they had discussed entering at least a 10-year lease for the space upon renewal with the option to buy, if the area attracted enough theatergoers. He pulled out the contract. He found a provision for possible extensions. What was Brenda’s problem?

Maybe she had gotten the theater confused with another business? It had been discussed in good faith, that given the renovations, the community-building and the seasonal programs that at least the company expected to renew the lease every year, until a longer-term lease could be sufficient and negotiable.

They were building a scene for theater enthusiasts and with each passing production a more thrilling atmosphere to attract the best ballets and dramas available in the West. It was to become a landmark. There it was! Right there staring right back at him was the provision for possible extension for at least another year. Richard would be glad to present 10 years! He’d run it by everyone before he met with Brenda, but he wrote it into the proposal.

He was having the new marquee installed next month! And it was such a beautiful building. He seemed sure that Brenda labeled anyone in the arts as “not workers.” It seemed only fair then to consider that realtors weren’t really working either. All they were doing were playing phone tag, showing houses and reading and signing forms. Nevertheless, he was sure that if he went in to give her an attitude adjustment, he’d blow the deal.

As enticing as it sounded to figure out why Brenda picked this building of all the buildings to offer to a new business, it needed to be shelved. Still, in the back of his mind, he kept wondering what had gotten under her skin about ballet in her past.

As Richard sat and renegotiated a better offer than the one he’d been handed, Brenda was going through her routine in her neighborhood of feeding all the stray cats. They used to strut around and beg at the front doors of the condo complex. Brenda figured that if she attracted all of them to the back woodsy area, they could get fed and would end up a little less annoying to everyone on their way home from nagging bosses and difficult coworkers. Many of her neighbors appreciated it.

Afterwards, she called the recycling clothing company she dealt with to let them know two new donation boxes were filled with slightly worn shoes and she would have them in the mail later in the week.

Hungry, Brenda sat down at her table, but couldn’t make up her mind on what to eat so she grabbed her coat and headed around the corner for a chicken sandwich at Pat’s diner. Her mind wandered to Richard and the dance company after she’d given her order to the server. The owner didn’t want the dance company there any longer. Sometimes being an intermediary was easy, other times it made for hard days. Today was a hard day.

Brenda looked outside to check if the bar was opened across the way. She’d dump her story on anyone willing to offer a shoulder, since she didn’t have time to get on social media to bellyache again about another thing that was bugging her about modern day inconveniences. Richard hadn’t even broached the subject of why the owner wasn’t interested in releasing it to the dance company.

She didn’t really care about Richard’s feelings anyway. He looked like an ostrich when she first walked in. He was nothing short of a snob. He probably dreams about ballerinas all night. The owner didn’t suggest he was open to negotiations. Greg wouldn’t need to fight his feelings He had already made up his mind..

Brenda decided she needed to update the owner. The owner wasn’t amused. Greg Reedy was more familiar with getting his way and pouting and throwing fits everywhere than he was with the art of negotiation. He wasn’t one to appreciate the arts, because he got uncomfortable sitting in any one place talking about any type of art.

He was humorously gruff and jaded. If looks could be deceiving, he was as tall as a gorgeous room divider in a small hotel room in an off-the-beaten-path hotel in Paraguay, although he rarely kept anything between himself and any of his associates. He spoke his mind even when no one wanted to hear it. His roughly kept hair made it seem like he was waiting for someone to push the hair out of his eyes, but something told you he planned the tension.

In most interactions, he felt conned somehow right from the start. Any feelings from his life or memories that materialized weren’t welcome. For him, there was a reason why the past should stay in the past and not resurface just because he was looking at a painting that triggered a memory. Mental strength at all costs.

Greg generally expected that he would excel very quickly to the head of the class within a short period of time when trying just about anything. He’d never felt a

single urge to tackle his feelings and wring them out on a canvas or live vicariously by watching a play.

Occasionally, he went to a movie, but the first impression that hit him after the story was over was usually how long he’d sat in a dark room with strangers. The plot and the story would escape him and he couldn’t wait to drive by properties he’d flipped. Even when he got a thank you letter from a happy buyer from Brenda, he rarely found it very heartening, as it was intended.

Greg however loved hearing from Brenda. She was his storm trooper, he certainly didn’t need a hermit Obi-Wan or a Luke or Leia. She wasn’t emotional and that was a good thing to him.

Why would the ballet need to stay in that space? They hadn’t really established themselves yet and could easily explain pick up where they left off. Additionally, Brenda hadn’t really pushed back and must have had enough insight into the community and how it was embracing the ballet in town. Maplefire was less of a ballet town, she said, and more of an innovations town.

People tired of these playhouses given that there were easier forms of entertainment nowadays. People were stimulated by quick anecdotes from local politicians and successful business people who often shared their wisdom and the irony of their experience. That’s where the stories came from. He had a great story that he was about to share with her when he’d answered the phone. It would have to wait now that she was informing him that the executive director of the ballet wished to meet with her today to discuss the lease further. She wanted Greg to be aware of it, but that she hadn’t encouraged the meeting at all.

Greg wondered if he’d forgotten anything about last year’s agreement. Suddenly he had doubts about how much Brenda told him. Brenda hadn’t spent any time reviewing the contract given Greg’s resoluteness. Now, he wondered if he should have asked a few more questions rather than come across so firmly, even though he was looking forward to flipping the property. He rarely backtracked or spent time backtracking for the sake of a relationship. People needed to understand the world of business wasn’t always easy.

He asked Brenda, “Do you need me to be there? Did the contract mention anything about a possibility of extension?”

Brenda answered, “I suppose it might have, Greg. If so, I’ll listen to what they have to offer and convey it to you. Such theatrics! They’re not spinning in a jewelry box, they’re standing on your property and it’s yours.”

Greg paused for a moment picturing his daughter’s jewelry box with the mechanical ballerina. He blistered from the memory since it interfered.

“Let me know what they have to say,” Greg said. “Brenda, wait, before you hang up, what was the name of the executive director and the company name?”

Brenda said, “His name is Richard.” She paused to look up his last name. “Richard Blend. The company is called Impression Repertory.”

“Thanks,” Greg hung up. His glasses needed cleaning and the smudge was bothering him endlessly.

Chapter Three - Restraints

Brenda’s top sales award glimmered above her desk as she sat down pouring over the contract signed by Impression Repertory last year. Indeed there was a provision to extend for at least a year. In the file notes, it was clear that the conversation and what sealed the deal for the company to choose Maplefire had a lot to do with this very provision. Shit, she thought. She didn’t feel so good suddenly.

It was truly unlikely that Richard and his board of directors weren’t well aware of this provision at this very moment. She had underestimated the obstacles and had jumped out the gate too soon. Now, she was wiping some mud off her face. She figured, everything in her path was an opportunity to best someone.

The world was filled with bad and pain. In the case of the ballet company, it was clear to Brenda that they were a painful reminder to the community of old times that had nothing to do with current community needs that involved needing more innovation. Ballet was hardly innovative. It was at best archival, maybe even bordering on preservation or a living mausoleum as a nod to traditions that rarely anyone over the age of 12 still appreciated.

At least she had stopped at her favorite store yesterday and that had turned out well.

If she strongly encouraged Richard to tell his board that while the owner was aware of the provision, no wait! She would do what she told Greg. She’d just listen. Hear Richard out. That would give her some time and at least give Richard the impression that she did consider them business-oriented. She reserved the right to continue to laugh at his bad taste in art on his walls.

Then, she would consider it, pass it by Greg, and once again stress that she’s heard many people wish for a computer store nearby so they could drop off any of their multiple handheld devices quickly. One of her customers even suggested that a computer store should work like those one-hour photo finish processing centers. They would bring so many smiles to everyone along Devant Avenue.

She ran to the gym. She had about an hour to kill and a few new properties to show a little later on in the day after meeting with Richard. He would pick noon wouldn’t he, like high noon. Figures.

To Richard, Stella might help buffer the tension. More importantly, he considered that it was possible that if Brenda saw one of the dancers who would be affected by the end of the lease, she may reconsider her position.

Stella’s long lean arms and legs were features that helped her gracefully stand in positions that seemed unnatural. They were unnatural in the sense that she

had to do endless toning to achieve the lean look that poppies in a field display ceremonially without having to practice squats. Stella’s presence at times helped tremendously at events and Richard felt like he needed her there for this meeting.

Stella wanted to make sure that she didn’t give Brenda mixed messages, because she was sure that she could speak on behalf of all the dancers to convey that this had become home. To lose it would disrupt so much of their lives. There were no good theatre spaces nearby. Stella would have noticed porticos with marquees. One place had been abandoned and turned into a clothing store, but that was over 30 miles away.

The thought of having to recreate the company was scary and worse she was sure that all the work that they had done on this theater would not be reimbursed. It had been done with long-term conditions in mind. Things happened, and Stella was familiar with having to change courses, however, this wasn’t an act of nature or an emergency. This was just dishonest brokering on the part of the realtor. They had sacrificed so much and the company was gaining a lot of credibility both in the community and in dance magazines and national circles.

Stella thought that maybe Brenda had just had a bad day. She decided she would bring pictures of the last season’s performances and maybe ask Brenda her thoughts about the upcoming production of “Giselle” and if she had seen other companies and their treatment of the story.

She figured Brenda was unhappy. Brenda might not be a lost cause.

In the meantime, Brenda finished her reps. Seconds later, the workout machine was taken. The guy looked like he could bench press park benches. He also looked like the utility reader who came by her house last week, but she’d have to hear his gruff voice and the ease with which he cursed loudly no matter where he might be to confirm it. He didn’t act like he recognized her.

She cleaned up and grabbed her gym bag. Her cell phone had a few messages she’d have to listen to after meeting with Richard. Heading to the theater, she couldn’t wait for this to be over.

Richard had tailored the office with flower bouquets from the florist down the street and was dressed in a three-piece suit. Dandelions, carnations, roses, and magnolias sat on each surface. No one ever wore vests, why would he do that, Brenda noted as she shook his hand. She noticed that she was a little uncomfortable. , She didn’t want to feel pitiful. If Richard conned her, she was definitely going to have a difficult time retaining Greg. Greg figured everyone had a story, and, pitying was bad business.

She started to feel overwhelmed. When Brenda wanted a piece of someone, she didn’t come bringing flowers. She was fighting her feelings and they were putting stupid thoughts in her head. Part of her success was staying emotionally disconnected with others or in situations. The flowers smelled lovely. Her roses had never grown this year. She figured she had either used the wrong fertilizer or as is typical her detachment from them made her complacent at the first sign of dying.

She had even bought rose clippers to look so sophisticated, but then barely used them. Too much mind clutter and it wobbled around in her head while she clipped roses like a dedicated ring tone for a caller who always nagged her. Her attempts at solitude were absolutely flawed by the very nature of what solitude could never unravel, the lack of things to disapprove of.

It was as if her mind trained itself on itself and rotated in circles when she was alone. When she had some material to work with, she could find the weakness in a anything and drive a stake into it.

There was Richard’s weakness right out on the open. Richard had an annoying body language, but today he seemed to try to appear larger than life. Like he had played with some personal version of Photoshop and made his pixels appear larger. The way he stood on one leg then shifted to the other regularly yesterday had disappeared. In terms of his personality, he was way too protective of the dance world.

Did he really think she was going to be easily swayed? Brenda figured that if she wanted to she could stare at him unblinkedly and get him to choke. Those are the types of moments Brenda loved. If she got bored, she’d give him all she had to try to throw him off.

Brenda saw right through Stella. It made being in the presence of Brenda for anyone who knew her very unpleasant. People skills meant guaranteeing her upper hand, even if others felt coerced. Brenda could easily start leveraging her strength in the situation. She saw Stella as perching herself as the gargoyle for the dance company, the gargoyle with the long neck, swanlike arms and strong legs that could ease in and out of situations.

Not very threatening. Brenda preferred hard and fast fighter moves, jabs, kicks, strikes, throws, takedowns and flicks. This was going to be a long meeting.

“Hello Brenda,” said Stella. “I’ve heard wonderful things about your business and how charming Maplefire’s buildings are to many who have travelled through our beautiful home. You must be so proud of each parcel of beauty that you present! Welcome to our home,” she gestured her arms around the building”

Why did Brenda feel lonely all of a sudden? She was painfully aware of the feeling, which was rare. Stella seemed for a moment to remind Brenda of a stray cat and Brenda felt partially responsible but not that concerned. Was mercy erupting inside of her? Brenda must have been anticipating the feeling that Stella hoped would emerge in Brenda, because it wasn’t her own genuine feeling, but she couldn’t help being proud of her mind for throwing her a bone in guessing what was expected of her.

She didn’t deliver. Instead, she replied detachedly, “You must be Stella.”

Richard stepped in for a heralded rescue, “Yes, Brenda. Let me introduce you! The two of you must get acquainted. Brenda, you may well know from our local write-ups that Stella has done a fantastic job every season in bringing not only the discipline of ballet into the hearts of our shared community, but also being our

creative vane, if you will. Her movements have attracted much acclaim over the years! She is absolutely thrilled to bring her talents to Maplefire.”

Stella smiled. Brenda recoiled inside but hid it well. She wasn’t used to such shared open admiration., When could she fit in her cutting remark? She swallowed it back down like an acid reflux.

Brenda rambled, “I will have to see one of the performances. I have been known to occasionally buy season tickets, although it’s been so busy lately, I’m afraid. You know some dancers make it look so easy to stand on their toes, but I would assume it must be much more painful than it looks.”

Stella smiled, but didn’t feel comfortable answering the question. Discussing pain for the sake of discussing all the work it took to be able to accomplish some of the demanding choreography was a long conversation. It detracted from the purpose for the meeting in the first place.

Stella replied, “The demands of the work are outweighed by the moments when it falls into place. I can imagine that it feels a bit like selling a house finally, that when all the pieces come together, it is a wonder that it is now a reality!” Stella paused the continued, “But I would love to tell you a little about Giselle!”

Richard offered a tea or coffee. Brenda accepted a tea and hoped that this meeting wouldn’t take all afternoon. She was doing everything in her power to stay in the moment, but her mind continued to wonder about the lack of design and lack of taste this office displayed.

Brenda sat down with her tea. Richard sat behind his desk. Stella decided that this might be a good opportunity to very briefly show Brenda some highlights from the past performance.

She mentioned, “There was a bit of press coverage and some community members spoke proudly of ‘their’ theater here in Maplefire. We like to foster a sense of pride and ownership by the community as members of this prolific community.” Stella finished by describing what the story in Giselle was and why it was one of her personal favorites. “We’re looking forward to more press since many love Giselle!”

Brenda looked at Stella for a moment and realized what it was about dancers that made her uncomfortable. She couldn’t stand the idea that somehow her posture was being judged or that she was suddenly more self-conscious about herself. Brenda was never a good student. She felt too vulnerable, too much like putty for someone she doubted from the start knew how to help her achieve the knowledge or understanding she was seeking. She always felt better than the teacher.

Although Stella wasn’t a teacher, Brenda felt like a student again. Once that feeling hit, it was just a matter of time that she would infuse bad chemistry into the interaction with a potentially well-meaning person. She liked to see them squirm. She didn’t like people to get too close to her, but she did like to test people around her. Mild-mannered people often made her jumpy and almost instigated arguments with her. Brenda found herself exhausted. She was spending so much energy resisting her urge to take over the situation.

Brenda could never tap into people’s emotions, but she closed deals. She was one of the top sellers in the area and won several awards. She felt no attachment to Richard as he struggled, with absolutely no appreciation of what the company would have to go through. She was preoccupied with Greg’s property. She started imagining how the computer repair store would use the space. She found her addiction to work most rewarding especially since it provided her with an endless array of tasks.

Richard watched Brenda as Stella pointed out photo after photo and explaining the way that the space played a role in the success. He pegged her as a fish out of water. Dancers all over the world hoped to get this much time with a dancer of Stella’s caliber to share how they felt during and after a performance and to consider how they could dig deeper to achieve greatness. Brenda looked like she was being put out and bored. He felt sad suddenly for her.

She appeared to be a glutton for punishment in her mannerisms. Momentarily, Richard stacked his papers on his desk together. Something in Brenda’s body language and lack of verbal exchanges with Stella told him that Brenda had similar habits to Richard’s mom who found little to appreciate but mounds of ways that she herself could improve everything they did. Despite the fact that if a mirror was held up, she would likely realize how much easier it was to criticize than it was to execute..

Richard’s mother could never come to any of the ballet company performances that he worked for, because she felt that he left himself to easily open to her barrage of input that would pick apart even the most amazing of artistic experiences. He had stopped inviting her years ago, hoping that someday she would herself attempt an art form and tap into her own emotions rather than stay so argumentative, cerebral and forbidding.

He moved his hands away from his papers and interrupted Stella, “Brenda, certain people come into our lives and awaken us, stir us! That is our Stella. She is unabashedly open to the rawness of our lives and our experiences. I am eager to see you at her performances so you can witness her passion which comes across nonverbally in her movements, both technically and soulfully. I’ve found myself at times completely speechless.”

Richard suggested that they consider discussing the proposal he had developed as a counteroffer to yesterday’s insensitive offer. He pulled out the contract first and pointed out what Brenda already knew. There was a provision to renew. He attempted to set a very pleasant tone, although by all outward appearances, Brenda would have been more comfortable in a loud room with a lot of distractions.

Brenda responded, “I would love to hear your proposal so I can share it with the owner. I often throw it to the hounds, but I appreciate Stella’s sharing her experience with me. If there’s something you can do for me, I will let you know. How you and I want things may not matter, but I’ll have to ask the owner how he’d want me to proceed in this situation after I’ve shared your proposal with him.”

Richard said, “I would like you to be comfortable with the thought of us staying in town. Next month we have the new marquee being installed and I would love to have you stand underneath it welcoming us into your fold.”

He handed her the proposal. “We propose a 10-year lease as our minimum extension with the option to buy later. I think you would want us to be as successful as you are in your market and knowing that these rooms would look lonely and lifeless filled with computers, I can assure you that I too know of some properties in the area that may be better suited for your computer repair store client as well.”

Brenda held the proposal.

Stella walked back in right then. Richard excused himself for a minute. Stella spoke, “Brenda, you could see an increase to your business as we move forward. I know that you may be second guessing me right now, but I hope you take a moment to consider that while some businesses that support us are featured in our programs, we invest in our community. You have invested a great deal into our community and to keep the stage up in our town could be another one of your investments.”

Stella didn’t get a response from Brenda, so she continued. “When you get that feeling that there is only us, the sky and rarely a star for us to reflect upon our souls, or the possible depths that we never reach in our daily lives, we have to tap back into our collective expression. Everyone rushes around, and here they get a chance to catch their breath.

We walk through our lives performing our basic requirements, then we wonder why we are desperate to experience desire, despair, mortality, pains, and wonder just so that we can feel again. We can feel! When a feeling goes both ways, suddenly we can find ourselves lost in a story, outside of our experience and on the stage together. We take these voyages into our imaginations.”

She paused to see if any of this was affecting Brenda, but Brenda didn’t let on. Brenda was uncomfortable with this conversation and where it was going. She said, “Stella, you would be noticed by the likes of me if you performed a dark role on this stage. As you’ve described Giselle to me, who understands the plight of the villager anymore in these prosperous times? You should play an heiress with the keys to every place in town that escapes her life of poverty. Wishful thinking in a girl like Giselle is just too fruitless. My two cents? If you found something more interesting, I might be more supportive and obliging.”

Stella felt the brittle from Brenda’s presumptuous attitude and suggestion. “Stella, please tell Richard, I will present this to the owner and return to discuss all of our ideas further. Consider how much better performances that focus on the more exciting elements of our society would be! The unleashed lions, the wheelers and dealers who don’t pity Gisselle. Your sadness at possibly losing this place, now that’s a story!”

Brenda thanked Stella for the tour and stood up.

Stella asked, “Interesting, although Giselle is well-loved and withstood the test of time. Do you know when you might speak to the owner? Although our artists do not work on commission or compromise the artistic integrity and artistic freedom that is associated with the success of our company and elevates our artistic profile worldwide, we do care about preserving this theater. My sadness isn’t the interesting part of the story. Us staying and staging more great works, now that’s an interesting story. By the way, Brenda, there are wonderful ballets that celebrate the black swans. It’s possible we may explore them down the road.”

Stella sensed how Brenda fetishized her own pain and suffering right under the surface of her words. Her desire to restrain Stella and Richard was palpable. Brenda wouldn’t probably even try ever to lift herself above and beyond the shackles that bound her if they did replace the intended ballet to be performed with one that suited her taste.

Brenda replied, “Do you think any of the singers you hear on the radio are given artistic license?” She paused. “Stella, you are passionate about your art that I give you. The higher ground sometimes can be lonely though! It might not give you the best vantage point when considering why theatres need to be rescued when “artistic license” is more important than prudence, economy and competitive edge. But your plea is touching.” Brenda added, “Honestly.” Then she turned to leave.

Stella said, “We protect that which we do best. There is something tragic about the possibility that you entertain so lightly, but it is food for thought, not for the stage, but in life. If we don’t represent what is precious and most vulnerable in the world, we only parade a small sliver of the world. That deadens us to that which we may not be exposed to. Brenda, believe in us.”

With Stella’s hand on the door, Brenda walked out under the portico and looked up to see whether the bird’s nest had been rebuilt. Nothing. Brenda’s thoughts were clouded a bit. She didn’t like this feeling at all. She considered how she could shake it.

Chapter Four – Tormented

Her car wasn’t a place of comfort anymore. Brenda wondered what had taken Richard away from the table. Maybe he was smartly bracing himself for the inevitable. Suddenly, she was overcome with how he traced the outline of his papers on his desk, which seemed so suggestive and sensual to her right now, while at the time it entirely distracted her.

The owner would never renegotiate. He made up his mind. It wasn’t his style to reconsider. However, as promised, she delivered the counter-proposal to Greg. He didn’t answer the door. She quickly scribbled a note on top of the proposal, “Looks like they got creative. Let me know right away. I know you want immediate results. We could let them put on their opener as a finale to give them some time. I doubt the computer store has to move in right away.”

Banking on mercy turned her stomach. Stella’s illusions were innocent. Brenda had lost her ability to feel guilty about life’s blows long before she left home and headed into the working world. A better life didn’t always come from walking a straight line. Fifty miles away wouldn’t be so bad, she thought.

Brenda drove away, as Greg looked out the window at her departure. The phone call earlier with Richard was an unusual step he’d taken, but there was something nagging him. He wasn’t sure about it. He’d always loved Brenda’s immediate results, as did she. There was something so uncomplicated about the nature of keeping to business. Chi-ching. Bling-bling.

A sense of community was only window-dressing to evoke a temporary feeling that the neighborhood was sending out its welcoming committee. The status of her business weighed heavily on her. Greg knew that hung over everything. He had a feeling however that the dance company held the same amount of importance in their esteem. It was troubling him that Brenda was so quick to hustle this deal. It seemed a little different than the other properties and tenants, he had her handle.

Speaking to Richard, he didn’t try to go behind Brenda’s back. Instead, he simply said that he apologized for not having seen the provision for an extension in the first place and that he looked forward to reading the proposal as soon as Brenda brought it to him. That’s it.

Stepping outside into the cool breeze, he felt a warm feeling of euphoria hit him. He couldn’t put his finger on it. He grabbed the proposal, and sat down on his French country balcony. Greg stopped for a second and realized he hadn’t even seen the theater in over a year. He jumped in his car to drive by. He saw its potential as a great theater, but he couldn’t see it becoming a computer repair shop. Now he was even queasier about Brenda’s stand.

Brenda sat at home and the roses in Richard’s office came to mind. Brenda tried to clear her mind. What happened instead sent a chill over her. With her eyes closed, she pictured herself at 15 practicing and standing at the bar. Leslie, one of the girls that she was paired up with for stretches, had earned her first pair of pointe shoes and was strapping them on. Brenda tried to shake the memory.

Coming into that ballet room had been the beginning of a very long road of self-discovery. When she saw the pointe shoes, she determined ballet wasn’t her style. Over the course of the next 15 years, it turned out Brenda became very adept at figuring out what wasn’t her style. Staring at her plain walls and her crumpled up clothing on her barely comfortable couch, she remembered telling Leslie that it was neat that she had gotten her first pair of pointe shoes already.

Leslie had turned to her and said, “You probably will never know what it feels like, but when I decided it was time, well, here I am. Even though it was just a dare. I’m going to go try them out.” She had known the girl for years, but realized she was not interested in practicing on toe since it was just too composed.

Leslie’s mother would pick them up occasionally from dance practice or school and talk vibrantly about her daughter’s talents and asked Brenda almost

every single time she saw her, “Can’t you imagine Leslie on that billboard on that bus?” or, “Can’t you imagine Leslie in every magazine across the land?” Brenda wondered what if she had said no. Then realized that Leslie’s mom’s leading question was about as difficult to answer sarcastically as any she’d ever heard.

Leslie however had no problem dismissing all of Brenda’s ambitions when they practiced together. Not a word of encouragement came from Leslie. As soon as Leslie’s mom was there, it was expected that Brenda would nod approvingly of Leslie’s chances of getting on any billboard that they happened to see. Leslie’s mom never asked her what she was interested in or tried to get to know Brenda.

Brenda was immediately sucked into Leslie’s future in ways that meant that she was going to be considered simply a stepping-stone. If Brenda had at any point suggested how imposed upon she felt, it would have made her look disobliging.

Brenda and Leslie maintained a brief friendship as a result. Brenda dropped ballet. However, every attempt she made at trying anything new led to a new Leslie. The very thing she hoped to escape, she attracted endlessly. She was invisible in many situations. She was chosen to become more comfortable in the wings.

The entire meeting with Stella had tapped into some wounded memories for Brenda that she resented. Stella seemed a lot like Leslie, or Leslie’s mom, showing off pictures, asking for devotion to the dancers, ballet, and to the opportunity for the theater to blossom right here in Maplefire.

Here she was again! The building that she had already readied for a new tenant couldn’t become a smooth transaction, because she had to take care to nourish another Leslie.

Hoping to escape her memories and her mental review of the meeting, she grabbed one of her files and looked at another listing that needed her attention. She yawned and felt extremely tired. For the first time in years, she felt pulled in different directions. She felt huge regret for never trying pointe shoes to prove to herself that she could have done it.

Lying down, her coating of jadedness made itself known as if it had been a clandestine parasite. She had finally found her style. She wasn’t a complete skeptic, because she believed in the potential for infinite growth between the number of clients and buildings and potential sellers. It didn’t matter if she could find a way to express herself, even if it bothered her suddenly jut a little.

Chapter Five – Are Those Butterflies?

The seed grew in Richard. Hearing from the owner of the property and his apology made the potential of staying root itself into his gut. His breath got deeper, if only for a moment. He couldn’t let his composure slip, even though he had been completely involved all of this time with making sure the company was a success.

Everyone he met in town who frequented the theater loved escaping the mechanisms and routines of life when they got caught up in the stories that unfolded on the stage. It helped them sort themselves out. Indifference toward a character or frustration showed a lack of passion or patience within. At the end of a show, people might ask themselves what will bring them more satisfaction, fill a void, or present them with more enthusiasm and determination.

Brenda seemed to be dialed into being inconsiderate and hiding behind threats. How deep were her wounds? Why was she so willing to traumatize people?

She was someone who learned way too young to hurt others and enjoy it. A perpetually bruising person testing everyone’s limits before either bracing or throwing a curve ball, smiling to ward off retaliation, was now in a key position in his life.

She had thrown him into a flux. Now he needed to find a way to open her heart. He saw the effect of the roses register briefly in her expression. What could get her blood flowing again?

He didn’t need Brenda as a challenge right now. He wasn’t looking for this. She stumbled into his theater and threatened to take it all away.

She was here for trouble and he was here to give her an opportunity to show him her better side. The saxophone was limp in the corner and there would be no music, just an overwhelming feeling of being a cold sold theater with no soul to search and filled with machines.

She was now signed on to be his biggest experiment. He had nothing to lose and it all started with the roses. She had to have gotten some warm feelings from Stella, but the way Stella described it, Brenda actually wanted to challenge the artistic director on his choice of productions! Well, for mercy’s sake! He figured that this wasn’t a novelty for Brenda. This was her relied upon exploit.

Move into a town and next thing you know, there it is, you might be expelled from the theatre only to find out that if your star dancer would play the unleashed lions, the wheelers and dealers who don’t pity Gisselle, you might be permitted to stay!

That boiled Richard. It was too calculated. Richard was sure she was numb. Richard was sure he could help her feel and become sensitive again. However, Richard feared being abused again in the process. He wasn’t going to deliver to his board of directors a destroyed concept.

With no phone call from either the owner or Brenda and valid concerns for his incredible dancers, Richard made some quick adjustments to the draft of the programs.

He added, “Ladies and gentlemen! As we’ve just recently learned our season opener may be our last performance. We ask that if you are planning on purchasing tickets beforehand, you help us save the theater in any way you can. We have proposed in response to stay here at least ten more years to live together with you

in this community to together appreciate the beauty of the stage and appreciate each other in our communities. We see you as our partners. This performance is dedicated by one of America’s finest dancers Stella Tilashey to our kind hosts who have generously helped us fall in love with this theater in the last year. Please help save our theater. We look forward to spending the next decade with you at the very least!”

He was going to challenge Brenda on the validity of her claim that Greg and the community were willing to see them go. They just might not be informed is all, seeing beyond her cruel resolve. It was going to be a night that no one would forget, but for him it was going to have to feel like he was in the company of a calloused zombie, if she accepted his invitation to attend.

Richard thought he’d hold off on printing the programs until tomorrow when hopefully Greg called him back. The phone rang. Brenda was on the phone.

“Richard,” Brenda said.

“Yes Brenda,” said Richard.

“Hi Richard, well Greg is reviewing your proposal and wanted me to thank you for writing such a thorough request. While he is reviewing it, he has insisted that I let you know that your performance can move on without any concerns about the space. We can continue the discussion after the performance so that you do not have any awkward moments disrupting the performers and your outreach efforts. He is aware that this would not look good for the company, and he certainly wouldn’t want to compromise the company’s artistic profile or leave you with a bad impression of the theater.”

“Brenda, I appreciate it. We will in the meantime also ask for community support in our effort to preserve our lease for the long run. I think you will be impressed as will Greg.”

“Richard, I appreciate your effort, certainly, but it’s just business, so…,” Brenda was saying when Richard cut her off.

“Stella wanted me to inform you that the performance of Giselle will be dedicated to you as a kind gesture to you since she anticipated that you would want nothing less than a superb performance. I would love to have you come as my guest. You would get a taste of the ballet that maybe you have never felt! I hope you will accept. I know it is sudden, and I personally and professionally don’t like to put myself out there for a rejection. But I won’t take no for an answer from you! I will gladly pick you up, or you can come pick me up.” He smiled.

Brenda fell silent. She hated to be on the spot and she hated surprises. She could find a way out of this, but should she? She realized that maybe, for the time being, there was no harm in it and she could at the very least show up, even if she figured she would find the story clichéd. She could at least see Stella dance and, put in a good word for her, as she secretly rolled her eyes. Déjà vu.

“Sure. Sounds alright, Richard. I would be flattered. I’ll have to brush up on my elbow rubbing, but that’s nice of you. I think Greg has mentioned that he might take in the show also.”

“I have already left him complimentary tickets at the box office.”

“I will convey that to him.”

Suddenly, when Richard said, “Goodbye Brenda,” Brenda grasped that this was just the beginning, but she wasn’t prepared for this and she was certainly not interested in a man with bad taste in art. Something about him not rushing to get off the phone provoked her. Brenda shook her head to clear the thought. He just wants his theater badly enough to throw in a few perks.

But why did this perk feel different to Brenda? She found herself tucking a strand of her hair back from her forehead behind her ear. Richard wasn’t her type. He was just smooth. Greg might end up liking him.

Chapter Six – Dimming the lights

Did waking up thinking about Richard the day of the performance constitute some sort of longing for Richard? She hoped not. She was steadfast only to herself and her accounts, in a somewhat laughable way, since she spent more of her time picking out their vulnerabilities. Richard was too impressionable and Brenda was too isolated. Why was she suddenly bracing herself?

Annoyed with herself, she figured she hadn’t had enough romance in a while and that the timing of possible hypnosis by Richard was as insipid as a squirrel staring down from a tree. She felt remotely run down, tapped by Richard’s request, and desperately wondering if Greg would permit the theater to stay.

Sliding through the day on a barrage of memories about Leslie and dancing, she counted the number of years she had avoided any musical events or any attempts to be friends with artsy types. It was enough to call in tomorrow for a mental health day. She was panicking. Her mind was racing. Why the entourage of Leslie in her thoughts? She told herself it was possible that Stella could be a lot less like Leslie than she was anticipating.

Her limited experience with dance could be coloring her attempt to have a good time tonight, even if Greg did eventually pull the plug on the lease and the company had to move. It made no difference to her. Or did it?

They were a world of their own in the little town and most people had too much drama in their lives to go see it on stage, she believed. Except Brenda rarely admitted when she was wrong. Now, flooded with injury about Leslie intermixed with some remorse for not speaking up to Leslie and her mother she was unraveling. She should have tried pointe shoes. She needed to stay disconnected with the ballet’s success or failure. It was a deal.

They always tell you not to get emotionally involved in business deals, because anything can happen and it’s important to be prepared for anything and not have your heart set on any outcome. Nice in theory. Right now, it was like sitting in a room full of high school students once again, and feeling their insecurities wrestle with each other, manifesting in the next popularity contest, or way to decide who was the coolest.

It was the same feeling she had when she was in a hurry and two people who knew each other were in a long conversation at the checkout counter, totally oblivious to the need of the person to get going. Or the feeling of being on a bus, and it didn’t even occur to a young teenager to get their feet out of the aisle so she could pass to get to the next available seat.

She wondered how she was going to get rid of that constant gnawing feeling to run as soon as she sat next to Richard during the performance. She figured that people would start wondering who Richard had brought as his date. Well, let them. It mattered little to her. Nothing had told her she needed to close down when Leslie was feeling so supported. It was always a decision to connect for Brenda and if she remained aloof, even better. Her real mistake with Leslie was to think she could nurture Brenda.

Her plan was to resist his charms even if it meant resorting to business mode whenever necessary.

She dressed in her best long gown, and then thought a smart pant suit would work much better for her. Then, she switched back to the gown. Why was this getting difficult? She put in her stud earrings, threw on her shawl, a little bit of makeup and figured she better check the time. Richard was expected any minute. She had passed up the chance to pick him up. She figured it was best that she not start considering that his house might be on sale shortly depending on what Greg decided.

The doorbell rang. Richard walked in. He looked absolutely stunning to Brenda standing in her doorway. The door seemed to frame his body in such a way that made his office seem like a room put together by someone in a bad mood, but only temporarily hideous to her. Richard saw her black velvet in a new light. She looked ravishing. He’d found her attractive the first time that he’d seen her step into his office. She’d lost much of her appeal the minute he heard her suggesting that the town was rejecting him and his ballet company for a computer repair shop!

“Thanks for the invitation Richard. You look nice.”

“You look stunning Brenda. I doubt I’ve ever seen black velvet look that good before. It suits you.”

“Well, thank you, Richard.” Brenda was doing everything possible to avoid standing quietly with Richard for too long. She distracted herself with looking behind Richard and asking about the weather. “Maybe I should bring a coat?”

“You might be cold and although the theater is warm, it can get drafty at times.”

Richard mentioned, “Well, we should get going. I wouldn’t want to be late. Oh by the way, I’ll have you home at a reasonable hour just in case you need to let anyone know.”

Brenda blushed, with absolutely no control over the heat in her face, she turned her face downward unbearably anxious about how sensations she hadn’t felt in years enveloped her and made her step outside of herself. Uncomfortably, it felt like her cheeks were standing on a cliff and her mind was summoning an emergency crew to get her cheeks to get back inside.

She caught her breath and laughed, “I’m sure my dog Jenny won’t turn into Cujo if I walk in a few minutes too late.”

Richard resisted asking her if he could meet Jenny. The thought crossed his mind that maybe he’d meet Jenny when he brought Brenda home, although he was open to the possibility that she would leave him at the curb and wave a good night. It was just a thought. You could throw most thoughts away.

Brenda couldn’t remember the last time someone was waiting up for her. She often jumped when people touched her arm nowadays, so used to her own space. She wondered who was waiting up for Richard. She went on a date last year, and it turned out absolutely appalling. It had been a blind date and when she got there, her date seemed to think that the best way to intrigue her was to talk endlessly about electrical sockets and how difficult they are to install.

She locked the door, and they walked to the car. One of Brenda’s neighbors did a double take in their direction, but kept walking. Richard wondered about it, then let it go.

He opened the door for her. If she stared out the window the entire time, she would look absolutely childish. She refused to shut down. This was complicated. How could she manage new emotions? How could she be finding him appealing at this time? She’d been told many times not too plan that far ahead, and there was Richard planning that far ahead. He was a dreamer. He was too entranced with what he wanted. It was too easy for her to strip it all away.

Richard had assumed they would listen to music, but now the idea of talking to her about anything but the lease was more attractive.

Richard said, “Music? What station do you like?”

Brenda said, “I’m not too keen on any one of them. In fact, I always have cds in the car, but I do listen to books on tape. You?”

Richard responded, “I love jazz. Ella Fitzgerald. Louis Armstrong. Oh, and funk. Absolutely love it. Especially Sly & the Family Stone. Sometimes I feel like I could explode with the intensity of their sounds. They were so alive. We look around the world today and it feels at times like there is an unspoken contest of who can be the least alert, engaged and ignited. But Jazz! That’s my favorite. Although, I absolutely love salsa music.”

They sat quietly for a moment and Brenda felt unprepared. She suddenly realized she had rarely even listened to music in the most recent past. She couldn’t think of a band’s name or any song. This could be embarrassing. Finally.

“Sometimes I listen to classical. It lets my mind wander, and it seems to relax me. Did you study music in school?”

Richard said, “No, I haven’t. I have simply appreciated it all of my life. I listen to some beautiful classical music. You will probably love the music from Gisselle. Adolphe Adam composed the music and my favorite, although it’s difficult to pick, is the Dance of the Willis when the Willis appear, but then again the entire composition leaves you in suspense. It is extraordinary. But, you will have to see and hear it for yourself. I hope you will share with me afterwards how the performance touched you. And by all means, not everyone can verbally express it, as I’m much more in tune with dance and non-verbal communication myself at times.”

“Well, here is the theater,” said Brenda. Listening Richard talk about music made her painfully aware of how much more comfortable she was with work than in her social efforts. Suddenly, she felt sure she needed to spend a little more time paying attention to the music that grabbed her.

As they entered the theater, Brenda laughed out loud. There on the very opening night of the ballet, was a half-unfinished nest above the marquee. Richard saw it and blanched, his jaw visibly dropped only for a moment. They were early, so at least he had time to deal with the nest. Walking inside, he escorted Brenda to their box and asked for her forgiveness, but that he had to take care of a few delicate matters then he would return and introduce her to folks as they arrived.

She grabbed for her cell phone, then realized she could look around the inside of the theater. It reminded her of those times when someone says ‘Call if you need anything’ but they don’t really mean it. She remembered a friend yesterday who she had run into at the pet store that said that when she had to leave. Could she call her right now and ask her how a building that was this beautiful had survived the bulldozers all this time?

She had never seen the inside. She was impressed with the décor. She had seen Greek revival before, but never filled with copper and brass jugs, statues, terra-cottas and detailed tapestries of dancers alternating with gilt-edged mirrors. Hundreds of lights sparkled off the chandeliers in the terrazzo floored main lobby. Fantastic myths were captured in enormous paintings that hung framed in elaborate frames before the entryways to the auditorium. She was getting back in touch with herself, but far too quickly.

Suddenly, in a completely different environment, the world around her was flooding into her and she could barely sit still. She wondered if she might not look like she was flushed or jittery. It was possible that to a casual observer, she was completely calm and perfectly still with only a hint of rose on her cheek.

Her absolute terror of looking flustered for potential clients or recent clients or to anyone she might stumble upon in Maplefire taunted her like a tassle on a skirt might tickle a calf.

She had been so used to calculating wins and losses, escrows, and permits that she had forgotten how to loosen up. Sitting there, she resented her newfound feelings. Yesterday, she felt on top of her game.

Her pulse raced. Richard approached and Brenda jumped. He apologized for startling her. He asked her to join him and meet a few people he knew. “Although I’m sure that you may surprise me and show me that you already know them through your efforts in Maplefire.”

He couldn’t stand looking at her thinking she would still try to destroy him and the company after tonight. Even if Greg made the final decision, he was sure a lot of it had to do with Brenda’s misconceptions and recollections, but once she got to see with her own eyes, he was sure she wouldn’t fear the ballet and all the mysteries that surround it. Maybe she would realize that the only reason she became devoid of emotion had to do with some propensity to fade away when things got uncomfortable or overwhelming. For anyone in her presence, this would appear to be rudderless or laconic, or worse they might see her as closing down to protect herself like into a shell.

He reminded himself as they walked up the aisle, many people fear performers. It was worth making her more comfortable and he hedged his hope desperately. He wanted to understand, although he feared he might himself find out a little more than he bargained for if he pressed too hard. Maybe there was some grief there or some painful experiences.

Greg had arrived and somehow, although Brenda thought his arrival would ease her torment, it in fact exacerbated it. He looked dashing and he looked ready to have the time of his life. He turned toward Brenda and waved. He must have loved the proposal. He must love the attention and being invited as first class by the ballet’s executive director.

He approached Brenda and Richard with his date for the evening. “This is Amy. She’s a stewardess. Not in town much, but she loves the ballet and couldn’t refuse when I asked her to come.” Brenda and Amy shook hands. Brenda noticed that she wore too much glitter around her eyes. But Greg might luck out tonight. She looked at Richard, and thought, he might luck out for the next ten years.

There was something else though. Brenda recognized a different look in Greg’s eyes, as if he found her to suddenly be too uptight, given recent events.

She decided to speak, “I can see how the theater has been well treated with your personal touch Richard. Excuse me.” With that, she walked toward the bar, and ordered a vodka martini. Richard spoke with Greg and Amy chirpily.

Brenda’s mixed feelings took her to a new place as the bartender mixed her drink. Despite the fact that she had started on such a reckless foot with Richard, she hadn’t gotten too emotionally attached to them staying or leaving and the computer

repair store could easily be housed elsewhere. She just needed to know where, when and if Greg would sign the papers with Richard.

She returned with her cocktail. Richard had asked Greg and Amy to sit with them during the performance. They had accepted. He asked Greg what he thought so far and Greg said, “By far, one of the best events in town. I’ve caught a glimpse of people here that I haven’t seen in years. This is going to be a great performance.”

He had seen the program and noticed the plea to the community to help save the theater. He asked Brenda if she had taken a look at her program yet. She hadn’t. She opened it and saw that the performance was dedicated to “our kind hosts who have generously helped us fall in love with this theater in the last year.” She felt like a queen who suddenly had to rearrange her fake emeralds, because she’d thought someone might steal the real ones if she had worn them. She read further.

They had asked the community to come forward with their support to keep the theater open. She felt shame for the first time in years, but it was done so tactfully. It was one of those moments that reminded her of the days when her properties had various complications. The days had gone smoothly for a while now. She was used to routines, schedules, and no intimate ties. Now, anyone who knew who owned the theater or who managed the property for them would find the local drama enticing.

She wasn’t used to being at the center of any controversy, even though she’d been the first to tell Stella it would be far more interesting to her to see Stella’s sadness at the loss of the theater than be entertained by a play about Giselle and her improbable chances with a Duke. It was Brenda’s chance to speak up. “Thank you for appreciating your hosts. It is a beautiful theater to fall in love with, Richard.”

The lights blinked rousing everyone to take their seats. Richard gestured to follow him to the seats. The four of them sat down. During the performance, Brenda sat so entirely composed, she felt like the stiffness in her legs alone was going to tire her out. Why was it such an effort to be her usual self? She twirled her program in her hands and then realized it. She stopped. The dancing was breathtaking. She wound herself up and had to remind herself to breathe. She looked at Richard occasionally out of the corner of her eye. Richard looked ecstatic.

When the lights came up for intermission, they walked into the lobby area. Several supporters stepped up to Richard to inform him they were going to express their support to political leaders, business owners and local friends. To many of them, Maplefire couldn’t go on without this beauty and magnificence. Little did they know that they said it in the company of “the hosts” Brenda and the owner Greg.

It elevated her to a new level of appreciation for her community. How she could have missed the opportunity to know this side of so many people she passed on the streets of her hometown baffled her. They loved the ballet! She felt foolish. There was no reason she had to tell Richard that they couldn’t afford frankly to have him think that the dance company provided a big or relevant service to the community! She knew her cruelty had no bounds at times, especially if something stood in the way in her mind’s eye. This time though, it put her in a pickle.

“It’s possible that we would only want to stay here another ten years, but with our partnership to the community, I can see even longer if time and the community permit. The space has proven to be a boon! It’s brought out the best of our dancers and each day they look forward to rehearsing here! Thank you,” said Richard.

Maggie, who had lived in Maplefire since she was twelve years old, had worked on several community-building projects around town over the past twenty years and wasn’t just going to sit idle about the theater possibly closing. “It would be a crying shame to lose the dancers in this company. They are an asset to our community!”

Greg was beaming. He looked at his date, and Brenda, and then at Richard, assured that he could make this possible. He wondered if Brenda would try to bend him the other way even after this amazing turnout of support for the dance company. Brenda rarely corrected her own behavior, but dug her heals in further.

The lights dimmed. Everyone entered the auditorium.

Richard looked at Brenda out of the corner of his eye. She looked ravishing.

Brenda got caught up in the performance. She understood Giselle’s plight and sympathized, instead of coming in already to throw her to the wolves for listening to her heart. After the performance, Stella came out to receive her single roses and bouquets. Brenda sat transfixed wondering how she could ever move beyond her feelings about Leslie that she projected onto to Stella. Stella was a beautiful dancer and she had an amazing support network.

Was ballet really that spectacular, she thought. This time she caught herself before she acted on her negative emotions. Brenda realized she was so used to putting the kabash on everything or ridiculed others attempts at expressing themselves that the compulsive impulse came up with little time to shoo it away.

She was having a wonderful time! Why was this perniciousness so pervasive among everyone she knew? She couldn’t escape the habit! She switcher her attention to Greg and wondered whether this evening affected his decision. Would he say anything tonight?

In the lobby, Greg stepped toward Brenda after they walked up the aisle. He said, “Tomorrow morning I plan on telling Richard we must have misunderstood and apologize. There is no reason to turn this beautiful theater into something it wasn’t designed for. I hope you enjoyed the magnificence of this performance as much as I did Brenda. Let’s do this again!”

Brenda’s mind flashed with all sorts of thoughts of reasons to tell Greg that he would look terrible if he backed down, then realized she was once again about to see his change of heart as a display of defeat. She felt relief fill her body, but she was catching herself in her overprotectiveness.

Her social awkwardness and her shark style both needed a rest. She refused to, even though years of practice at being ruthless had her wound up ready to

catapult with a feast of delightfully snide comments meant to dampen or discount the change of heart.

As Richard walked towards them, Greg and Brenda reached out to him to tell him how moved he was. Richard wasn’t surprised by the appreciation, but he was cautious and almost afraid to take it seriously, assuming it might be just a ploy to appreciate the night with no immediate reassurance for Richard. Richard thanked both of them.

An awkward silence fell over them, and Brenda stepped in, “Richard, Greg will contact you tomorrow with some good news. Hope you haven’t started packing.”

Richard felt like picking Brenda up and kissing her. He figured Brenda would cry foul, so he didn’t, but his smile showed that he couldn’t wait to spend the next ten years looking at her face.

He composed himself, “You are in for some wonderful ballet over the years. Our commitment to the community is indisputable. I can’t thank you enough Greg and Brenda. We have much to celebrate! Are you free later tonight, or better yet, should we all meet maybe tomorrow night after we’ve signed papers?”

They agreed to meet the following night after the papers were signed.

Richard drove Brenda home. Brenda was eager to get out of the car, furious that it was so difficult for her to find a way to explain to Richard that the only reason she had resisted in the first place was to protect Greg’s interests. He must know, she figured.

However, she couldn’t find a way to start a conversation. They sat quietly, awkwardly. It was water under the bridge. There was a silent serenity they were both experiencing at the moment that Brenda was enjoying for the first time in a long time and she was exploring that feeling. Richard was ready to try just about anything, sitting next to Brenda. He felt ten feet tall.

As they pulled up to her door, he said, “Brenda, I can’t thank you enough! There are so many people who are going to be relieved when I tell them. You won’t regret it.” Then, before anything could go wrong, he said, “Say hi to Jenny. I’ve got biscuits at home she might like, but my dog is a little finicky. Jenny might not like them. Thank you for coming. See you tomorrow!”

Brenda said goodnight. A part of her was thrilled to be outside of the car. Another side of her missed the warmth of the car. The feeling that accompanied not letting herself feel defeated in the process of helping Richard and his company left her as soon as she closed the car door. She stood in front of her house in an unfamiliar state of mind.

Chapter Seven – Bound

As he pulled away, she saw the same beautiful red scarf that was in his office in the back seat. The scarf was no longer laying on the silver lined dish that looked like a sad tear, but in a fine line across where she pictured two laps could be wrapping themselves in it. She wondered whether he was going to give the scarf to someone special later on or just taking it home.

The diseased thinking of her work life imprisoned her mind and revolved like a broken pinwheel cutting into her every time it spun. She realized how far she had let herself become consumed with deals, rather than being in touch with her emotions and her own fantasies. The sensations that filled her overwhelmed her. If someone had asked her what her opinion was about something in the news, no sweat, quickly she’d be able to come up with her thoughts, but how she felt, it had been so long since she really had thought about it.

Back inside her home, she decided to take a bath. Soaking would help her sort through her feelings and the events and reconsider how she could avoid making the same mistake with a client, but also how she could also embrace the creative arts. The walls she built prevented her from getting to know the people from the company. They were strange elegant creatures to her.

She added lavender salts to the hot bath. She hung her robe on the hook and sunk herself into the water. It felt like what she imagined Richard’s fingers would feel like along the back of her legs and up her spine. When she let her headrest against the pillow, she imagined it felt like what Richard’s shoulder would feel like. As soon as a splash of water hit her neck, she imagined it felt like what Richard’s wet lips would feel like. She imagined he would be an attentive lover. One that would say little to set the tone, but would let the tone set itself through their eyes, their hands, their mouths, and their pursuing lips.

She wanted to erase the thoughts, escape her mind and get completely consumed by her body, let it feel and let it allow her to stop all the mental noise, but she had the most difficult time exiting her thoughts. Her mind didn’t trust her body. How would she know what to feel and what it was supposed to feel like? .She could rely on her mind to keep her in control, but she couldn’t rely on her mind to help her body talk in a way that didn’t feel jumbled and awkward. She was uncomfortable in her body.

She was so used to the bracing tones of men in her life that masked any desire for fun with sarcasm and quick jabs that reflected cynical lives and the protection of callous words. It was their way of bracing themselves and making sure that they could cut you down and take out their frustrations on you. The result might be that you would cower to them and their needs, putting off your own. Look how quickly you shrunk as evidence that they could dominate.

Richard was a rare find for Brenda and the first impression she gave him, must have showed him that she had been steeped deeply into shark-infested situations, with little tolerance for anything but biting off-putting comments.

Tonight she had worn a silver dress that shimmered and showed her normally hidden shape. Tonight, she felt like her body had surged and was demanding her attention. She wondered if it was really demanding Richard’s attention. Her attraction to him was filling her with despair and desire. Could she ever let him know that when she sat in the dark with him in the theater all she could imagine was what his hands would feel like on her leg? She had forgotten the power of touch. Now the lack of touch had this immense power over her as she wrestled with these thoughts and tried to pay attention to the ballet.

The moment her hand accidentally touched his when she went to put her arm on the armrest, she realized it had been so long since she had let a man touch her anywhere. She made herself completely available to her clients’ fantasies about perfect homes, buildings and lands, but she hadn’t fantasized herself in so long. She was just a servant to their dreams.

Why was it that she had chosen the theater instead of any other building for a new tenant? She felt slightly guilty and driven by her past. If it came up, she needed to shield herself from any reproach from other realtors who always turned properties with no regret and with unabashed ruthlessness.

Brenda looked up at the ceiling. It hit her. She was too absolute most of the time. She needed to get lost in her feelings like this and let the waves of urges, fury, lust, and cravings let her flesh tingle and buzz. Her hand tenderly rested in the water that was now cooling her skin much too quickly. Brenda stepped out of the bath and into her robe quickly as drops of water pooled on the floor.

For once, Brenda didn’t rush to soak it up. She left the water in the tub, the drops of water on the floor and found Jenny cuddled up on the couch fast asleep. She let her out for a few minutes, then locked the door and walked up the stairs with Jenny at her side ready to see what sorts of fantasies the night would bring.

She fell asleep only moments later. In the middle of the night, She woke up positive that she needed to find some ways to loosen up, even if Richard ended up being the unavailable unattainable catalyst.

The short drive with Greg to the theater was a little more silly than usual. Greg seemed positive that this had happened in the right time in his life. He had never really stopped dealing. Suddenly, he snapped out of it last night. How could he be so sure that he was doing the best for the community himself, if all he was going to do was limit the types of businesses he felt were best for it? He spoke candidly to Brenda. He sounded like a totally different person.

Inside Richard’s office, they breathed deeply after the papers were signed. They were ready to celebrate. A few doors down at the Italian café, they laughed about the number of times both Greg and Brenda had over the years looked forward

to seeing more shows not just at the holidays, but throughout the year. Richard seemed surprised.

“Really? How many times?”

Greg said, “None. That’s the point. It was just a building.”

Richard said, “I have a photographer coming from an architecture art magazine who is going to take a few photos of the outside and inside of the theater. We’d love to have you quoted in the piece if you’re interested, Greg.”

Greg said, “I love being a ham! Sure. Cheers to all of us celebrating ten more years. Thanks Richard for impressing us! We’re sometimes jaded and cynical. I thought I went to the chiropractor or something last night. I slept like a baby!”

Brenda said, “So did I.”

They finished their drinks and wished each other a great weekend. Greg and Richard arranged for a time for him to talk to the architecture magazine. Brenda told Greg she would walk home, she needed some fresh air and a little stroll couldn’t hurt. She wished Richard a wonderful weekend. She headed down the street after Greg drove off. Richard ran up to Brenda unexpectedly.

Since last night, sitting next to her, he could not believe the chemistry they had. Sitting next to Brenda last night despite all her nitpicking and discouraging language during his first impression of her, he could not believe that it was actually by sitting next to her that he broke free from his inhibitions.

Something inside of him made anything possible. She had that effect on him. He’d never felt that around any woman. She couldn’t have psychologically diminished him like she did that first day even if she tried. Their chemistry spoke in the dark. He wondered if he was imagining things.

“Look Brenda. I’m not that good at this. But, I’ve never felt so hysterical and at ease with anyone in my life. I sat next to you last night and all I could think of was that I didn’t want to be sitting anywhere else. Did you, I mean…”

Brenda started to interrupt him. She looked like she had won the grand lottery with millions coming her way. “I could barely sit still, but I couldn’t move.” He recognized the chemistry again and her reaction and he said, “I have a little present for you.” He handed her the beautiful scarf that Brenda had first seen in his office. “Oh and for Jenny.” He handed her a few dog biscuits.

She put the scarf around her neck and said, “It will keep me warm walking home.” Richard blushed. Suddenly, everything that had been building up the previous night flooded her as she began to imagine him in the bath with her massaging her back and finding curves that she had neglected. She imagined what it would be like if Richard sudded her with a soft cloth. He had seduced her and hadn’t even laid a hand on her yet. Then, Brenda said, “So will this.” She grabbed Richard closer to her and kissed him passionately. She was a closer after all!

Slowly, she let the hands she had only imagined last night awaken her senses, as she swayed, feeling thrilled in the arms of a partner that knew just how to get her to relax and set them both free of the chains of work, past traumas and fierce defenses that refused to fall off without a lot of molting and molten peeling away at the debris of life.

At moments she was thrashing inside for fear that she would appear to be suspended and showing a weakness by exposing herself to the risks inherent in giving into a moment of lust. Her abandonment with no concerns about tomorrow or two weeks from now consumed her. No memory reined over her and she knew that her body had held her in custody. She discarded her misgivings.

It didn’t need to mean anything. It was a perfectly strange feeling and she was wrestling it the entire time while in his arms. He was a very attractive man, and at this very moment an amazing fantasy that was feeding her every need to stop being ordinary and stingy, and more gracious in the community.

They kissed on the corner of Devant Avenue and Felsper Lane on a cool early afternoon in September embracing and fantasizing that the next time they saw each other they would have a little more privacy. Maybe Richard never needed to know about her ambivalence toward ballet, but Brenda was so happy that she had worked it out and closed the best deal of her life.