The Dance

“I cannot believe you let this happen.” She had stopped crying, only a small tick in her voice remained. She turned her back towards him, folding her arms across her small chest.

He took a step closer, sighing. He could make this right again, if she would just give him another chance.

But he knew if he were to say what he was about to say…

He said it anyway.

“I didn’t. You know I did not let this happen.”

Turning back towards him, slowly, with the grace of a dancer, her dark green eyes stared through him. The morning rays of the sun penetrated the soot smeared window, creating a yellowish orb that danced around her face.

She was so beautiful. The red swollen eyes, the too expensive mascara streaking her high cheek bones, the anger revealed by a small twitch just below the corner of her mouth, none of these could conceal the beauty he had loved for so long.

“You,” she pointed a slender finger at him, “stood there watching them!”

He loved her. He hated the finger. The one annoying habit she had…well the one that bothered him the most. He had once thought of biting it off when she had drawn the appendage from a virtual holster, pointing it at him, making it jump with every…word…she...said!

“I wasn’t there.” He offered quietly.

“That doesn’t matter!” She screamed. “You knew who they were! You knew how they are! And you… (finger shake) let… (finger shake) this happen! (two rapid finger shakes.) She turned back towards the window, arms again crossed in defiance.

He paused, remembering, I can make this right again.

He didn’t pause long enough.

“You’re wrong. I don’t know who you think I am. Why you would believe that I would let this happen. Why you would think that I have any measure of influence over what they do!”

“You mean you’re not their boss? Their beloved leader?” She said to the window.

“That has nothing…”

“Don’t you dare say what you are about to say! It has everything to do with it! You live for that place and those—those people. You never stop being a boss. Even when you are at home. Boss, boss, boss. Well congratulations, you’re the boss!” This time her pirouette was not slow or beautiful. She pushed by him, “Until you needed to be their boss. Then you just stood there and let them destroy everything!”

He took her place in front of the window. Dark gray clouds were moving across the sun, pointing malformed fingers at the man in the window, “Don’t say it.” They warned.

“They haven’t destroyed anything. You are overreacting.” He didn’t heed their warning.

It wasn’t words that came from her. The sound could only be described as lethal. The small twitch could no longer be described as such. He thought her mouth may leap from her face, splattering on the tiled floor.

Incredibly he continued; looking around the penthouse, “And being the boss has made life rather easy for you. How much did we pay for the dance lessons?” Making no attempt to hide his sarcasm.

If he had in mind a desired effect, he concealed his disappointment when instead she sat on the beige sofa, folding her hands and resting them in her lap. She waited.

Her unexpected reaction drained his momentum. He turned back towards the window, looking at the growing clouds. The stubby, pointing fingers, long gone. Now just a massive, unshaped monster that would soon clap thunder and cry rain. He touched the glass; twenty-four floors above the busy streets of Manhattan, it felt cold to his touch.

“It’s not destroyed.” He whispered to the pale reflection.

“Yes, it is.” She said.

He shook his head against her words. It can’t be. So much time. So much work. They had done it all together. From the beginning, he knew there would be challenges, pitfalls, and doubters. But he had set a course against all of that. He was very good at what he did. He knew how to put contingencies into place. He knew when to take small steps and when to take giant leaps. And they had done it. He had done it! How could she believe that it was now all gone? How could she blame him?

“I have to go.” She said.

“No, don’t go.” He knew it sounded pitiful. She would like that.

“There is no reason to stay, you know that.” She had a small golden compact in her hands, the powder providing a curtain to hide behind.

“Please, give me another chance to prove to you that nothing has changed. Nothing has been destroyed.” He had arrived at whatever place comes after pitiful. He walked over to where she sat, “And if it has…if it has, we will start all over. We can do it again.”

She smiled. The place from which all her beauty began. Large drops of rain were hitting the soot stained windows; but the filth would not surrender that which belonged to a world high above the city. From the land- far- away, he could hear the sirens cutting their way through the clogged asphalt.

She stood. Pushing up with the powerful toes of a ballerina, she kissed his smooth cheek.

“I love you, Daddy.”

Gone.