A Dance of Life

4

"Detective Russel?" I say, finally looking up.

"Ms. Allard, hi."

"You're my instructor?" I groan out.

"Yeah, I was surprised when I saw your name on the signup sheet, but I figured that since one has to be comfortable to learn, it would be better if you trained with someone you know," he tells me after examining my shocked face.

"That's very thoughtful of you, Detective, but I don't actually know you, so that statement isn't really true." I put my head back in between my thighs.

"You can call me, Nathan... or Nate, whichever you prefer but I'm not on duty so Detective feels... off. And are you okay?" he asks. I feel him sit beside me and it takes all of my willpower not to shift away; I don't want to call any more attention to myself.

"I'm fine," I lie, "Just dizzy."

For someone who valued the truth a lot, you've become an awful liar.

"Well... maybe you can rest for today and just observe the other students. I remember that you're quite an observant person."

I don't answer him, but I raise my head and look around the room. All the teachers seem to have different techniques for teaching, but at the core, it's the same lesson. D.R. looks like she wishes she were somewhere else.

The silence between Detective Russel –Nathan ­–and I stretches on, and I start to feel awkward. In my peripheral, I can see him tapping his fingers on his wrist in time with the tapping of his feet, and I wonder if it's something he does when nervous. My mind moves to analyze his shoes, but I shut it down and stare at the floor instead, making my thoughts blank.

"So... how was your ballet practice?" He finally says.

"What?"

"That day at the diner, you said you had a class the next day." I'm surprised at how steady his voice is, even though he's talking about a terrible event.

"Oh, wow, I can't believe you remembered that." I, on the other hand, do not possess said skill. My voice comes out a bit shaky, and I try to cover it up by clearing my throat. "I've had better," I tell him.

"You got home safe, right?"

Is this an interrogation or a conversation?

"Yes, I did."

He nods his head but doesn't say anything else. I tap my different fingers with my thumb in an organized sequence whilst trying to steady my now nervous breathing. Why did he have to bring this up?

"I'm quite observant too; it's one of the reasons I'm good at my job," he informs me, "And I can tell you're lying."

"I don't know what you are talking about," I say as calmly as I can.

He moves to sit in front of me, and I relax a little. "See," he gestures to my body, "I noticed that you tensed tense up when I sat beside you, but I felt that you might be embarrassed if I pointed it out."

He's right, I would have been.

I squint at him, "So why are you bringing it up now?"

"Because of the way your voice changed when I brought up that night, it gave me cause for concern."

I don't know if it's his unwavering gaze or the look of pure concern in his eyes, but I feel that maybe I can trust him.

You can trust him, Annelise, and you can trust Me too.

Unfortunately, trust has to be earned.

"I'm hungry."

His face scrunches up in confusion, "What?"