Acacia: Acacia

Chapter 20: Dance and decaf

- 113 AfewweeksafterSahararealisedIwaspregnant ,Iwenttothedancestudio to thank him for what I considered his divinely appointed intervention. I had been too vulnerable to call or see him before that. I timed my visit so that I would catch him just as one of his classes was ending,and waited for his students to clear the studio before I approached him. “Acacia!” He smiled cautiously when he saw me. “Hey, Sahara.” An awkward pause. “You okay?” he asked, gently squeezing my shoulder. “No. Not really,” I smiled weakly. “But I promise not to have another nervous breakdown,” I joked, to lighten the mood. He laughed shallowly, not at all convinced. “I wanted to call, but I also didn’t want to intrude.” He refused to take my lead into jocular chitchat. “I’m sorry I scared you.” “Not at all,” he lied. I flickered another smile but was defeated by the effort. “By the way, thank you for the pregnancy test.You were right.” My voice was shaky. Other than Mum, he was the first person I told. “You’reprobablynotreadytohearityet,sopleasefilemycongratulations away for later.” He was so sweet. So sensitive to what I was feeling. “And not that my opinion counts for anything in such matters,but I think you’ll be an awesome mom.” “Thank you,”I mumbled.He was right.I wasn’t ready to hear it.“How’d - 114 you know I was pregnant?” “It was pretty obvious, DrWolf.” He was the first person to call me by my new title. His tone was teasing but careful. He was a man walking in a minefield, afraid to trigger an explosion. Already I felt strangely lighter. Only superficially, of course, but lighter nonetheless.Was it the dance studio? Or Sahara? Or both? I was about to excuse myself, disconcerted and pained by the twinge of happiness that was assaulting me. “How about a cup of coffee?” Sahara pursued, fighting to draw me out of my maze of horror, to prolong my good humour for a few more minutes.“Decaf, of course.” “Ugh! Decaf is of the devil. Stained teeth without the benefit of a temporary high.What joy is mine!” He laughed, heartily this time, relieved that I had at least retained my sense of sarcasm. “So how about it?” he persisted gently. “Thank you. But I’m not going to be very good company. Perhaps some other time?” “Okay,” he nodded, not wanting to push me too far. Then, unexpectedly, he furrowed his brow in a way that made me smile, and his face lit up as if he had just had an epiphany. “Hey, come by the studio, whenever. Even if it’s just to sit and watch a class. Let dance work its magic!” “I’ll think about it,” I muttered noncommittally. “Thank you again, for everything,” I added with a little more heart. “Take care of yourself,lady,”he advised,tilting my head so he could look into my eyes. Surprisingly, I didn’t cringe from this intimacy. From the first time Sahara broke the touch barrier correcting my body alignment in his class, there had never been any duplicity in his touch or cunning in his eye.A texture of truth. I trusted him. “Don’t make me have to force-feed you broth again.You know I’ll do it,” he warned lightheartedly. His pride and my humiliation! - 115 I blushed.“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” “It’s pretty much front and centre on your wall of shame.” “Oh great.A whole wall!” “But seriously, take care,” he reiterated.“It’s not just you any more.” I nodded,my eyes welling up.My vagabond emotions were calamitously unpredictable.At a loss as to how to stabilise the ruckus,I gave him a quick peck on the cheek and hustled out of the studio before the floodgates opened. I was a mess. Every day, I was undone by conflicting emotions about my pregnancy. Joy and sorrow. Dread and expectation. Newton’s cradle. Back and forth. Back and forth.Wishing I could trade my baby’s life for Taylor’s, and yet, at the same time, knowing that having Taylor’s baby inside of me was my salvation. I was stuck in a stalemate between the joy of knowing that, in my baby, Taylor would always be with me, and grieving for my husband. Fortunately, in our love for Columbia and...