Facade (Romola 1)

76: Dance Class

Romola pushed the double glass doors open and limped to the centre of the cool dance hall. The air conditioners mixed with the sweet flowery scent of the air fresheners installed on discreet parts of the wall. Some of her students had formed a small group at one corner of the wood floor-boarded room. Chioma saw her first.

"Aunt Romola, you're back."

Romola spread out her arms and five children ran to embrace her. A part of her wanted to weep into their small shoulders but she bit her lips and waited for them to release her. Their hugs had been the closest thing to love she'd received in a week.

"Hey, I missed all of you." She smiled at them. She'd taught most of them contemporary dance for about three months now. "Who is that little boy over there?"

Romola crouched. Sharp pain shot through her legs but she remained crouching, so she was almost level with the children's faces as she pointed to a little boy with short dreads. He sat on the plastic waiting chairs where parents watched their dancing kids. .

"Oh, that's Andrew." Chioma rolled her eyes. "He's shy and he like to act like a mommy's boy. He can't dance."

"Well," Romola fought the tears that stung her eyes. "That's why we are all here. To learn how to dance."

At least the boy had a mother that cared enough for him to pamper him. She wiped her tears with the back of her palm. The dance studio was the one place where she could be herself without any expectation from others. She found peace here and she wouldn't let anything, not even the events of the past days, ruin that stability. She pushed all her thoughts to the back of her mind and forced a grin on her face.

"Aunty?" A pixieish girl with a bright pink hijab grabbed Romola's hand. "Why are you crying?"

"Nothing dear. It's just that I'm so happy to see you all again. Who taught you while I was away?"

"Sometimes, aunty Nkechi." Divine, the tallest boy in the class, answered.

"Her class is always so boring." Chioma added.

Everyone laughed and Romola shook her head at Chioma response. The girl often had something to say about others. They had a way of making her forget that she a life outside here.

Romola stood on her feet, ignoring the dull pain on her thighs as she searched of her boss. Nkechi and her bother co-owned the building. It was a Cinematography and dance studio. Nkechi owned the lower half, the dance studio, while her brother had authority over the upper half, the cinematography studio. Nkechi would certainly cut off her head. She'd missed three weeks of dance teaching as well as dance practice.

"Where is she?"

"She's talking to Andrew's mum in the office."

"Okay. Let's dance." Romola clapped her hand. "What did you learn last week?"

"We were trying to learn to split."

"Split? Already? Let's start with some warm up exercises. Andrew, join us."

Romola walked away from her students to the giant speakers in front of the mirror. Usually she would connect her phone to the speakers but her step father had confiscated it. She choose one of the instrumental songs from the CD set and placed in the DVD player. Nkechi insisted that the children danced to instrumental music only as the adults in the dance fitness classes- some of whom also brought their children along- argued that most songs were too sexually explicit for the kids. She was about to hit the play button when she heard a heavy thud reverberate in the room.

Her eyes were drawn to the direction of the thud. Andrew lay beside the chair. She flew to her feet and limped-ran to the boy just as Nkechi's door flew open. A woman with thick natural hair held in a simple bun and dressed in a leopard stripped track suit appeared at the door. Romola got to him first as he got to his feet and dusted his clothes.

"Drew, what happened?" The woman pushed Romola aside and picked her son off the floor.

"I tripped." The boy buried his head in his mother's chest.

The woman turned to Romola without a pause. "What kind of a careless trainer are you? You- Wait. No. No, No! My son cannot be trained here."

"Ma?"

Romola shrugged. She saw the question in her boss' eyes but she was sure that she had never met Andrew's mum before.

"This is our best teacher. She turn your son into Michael Jackson in just two weeks."

"I don't want. In fact, I am taking back my offer. You better fire her before she corrupts these children." The woman headed towards the door, then stopped, blessing Romola with a condescending look. "She has already corrupted them. See how they were laughing when my baby fell."

"Mrs. Eddo." Nkechi ran after the woman.

Romola's muscles refused to move. She didn't even understand how the woman knew her or why she would make such vile accusations. Her mind tried to process where she could have met such a woman but the only place could have been Olumide's house warming. Her heart sank to her knees. The dance studio was the one place where none of her façades existed and she had hoped to keep it that way.