All That Jazz

Harold shifted, trying to get comfortable. The hard seats in the auditorium made his hips ache, and his ears were ringing. The ancient speakers alternated between blasting the music at top volume and descending into a painful screech. His wife Mavis nudged him hard with her elbow.

“Harold, stop squirming. What is the matter with you? Do you need to go to the bathroom again? I've told you to get your prostate checked, but you never listen,” she said in a stage whisper.

“Do you think you could say that just a little louder? I think some people in the back row missed it,” Harold muttered, mortified. Fortunately, all heads turned at that moment as a tall thin woman with bobbed maroon hair bounded onto the stage, beaming manically in the spotlight.

“Welcome, welcome, one and all, to Lola’s Dance Academy’s annual recital. I am Ms. Lola, the owner and director of the Academy. Our theme this year is ‘Reaching for the Stars’. We will start with our littlest dancers, the Twinkle Toes. Aren’t they just cute as buttons!”

“I’ve never known exactly what is cute about a button,” Harold said as the curtain jerkily opened to reveal a row of little girls in pink tutus accompanied by one little boy in a tuxedo.

“Hush,” said Mavis, entranced. “They’re adorable.”

The ensemble tripped their way through a rendition of ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’. The little boy had evidently been appointed as lead dancer, a responsibility he took very seriously. He herded the group through their routine, shooing the laggards into line with ferocious concentration. There was a minor altercation as the last little girl objected to being pushed into place, but this was hastily quashed by Ms. Lola before any harm was done, and the group exited the stage to applause amid the flash of cell phones. Ms. Lola skipped back into the spotlight with a flourish.

“Moving on up, we will now have our next group, the High Steppers.”

Harold jumped as the opening bars of 'Oklahoma' blared out. A group of girls in prairie dresses enthusiastically leapt on stage followed by boys in dungarees brandishing pitchforks.

“So that’s how they got those lads to dance,” he said under his breath. “Gave them weapons. Mind you, they’d better be careful or someone’s going to get poked in the eye.”

He tapped Mavis on the shoulder.

“What time is it?”

She turned, frowning.

“What’s the problem? Aren’t you enjoying yourself? You always ask me what time it is when you’re trying to slide out of something early. You do remember we’re here to see our granddaughter’s performance? She’s been rehearsing for weeks, and her mother was up all last night fixing her costume.”

“I know,” said Harold. “We’ve had the wee ones, and these kids look like they’re about eight. Cathy’s sixteen. How many levels do we have to sit through before we get to the teenagers?”

Mavis squinted at her program.

“The senior dancers will be on after the intermission,” she said.

Harold sighed.

“I think I will make a pit stop after all,” he said, ignoring Mavis’ exasperated look. “Sorry, but it can’t be helped. And don’t start going on about my prostate again.”

He levered himself upright with effort, glad that he was sitting at the end of the row. Leaning on his cane, he carefully navigated his way to the exit. Blinking in the glare of the lobby, he began searching for the bathrooms, threading his way past frantic parents doing last-minute costume adjustments, admonishing their offspring to stand still, as bored siblings ran around. He was about to return inside the auditorium when a large and officious usher stopped him,

“Sir, we prefer you not enter while the performance is going on,” she said. “It’s very distracting for the dancers. Can you please wait until the intermission?”

“I hate to miss any of the show, but I quite understand,” Harold said, trying not to grin. “I’ll just have a seat outside. If my wife comes looking for me, please tell her where I am and that I didn’t want to break the rules.”

He went outside. It was a beautiful, mild spring evening and Harold sat down on a bench to watch the sky change color as the dusk began to fall. It was a much more comfortable seat than in the auditorium and he felt himself getting drowsy. He almost nodded off, startling awake when someone sat down beside him.

“Granddad, what are you doing out here?”

“Cathy!” he said, beaming as he saw his granddaughter. He looked at her and blinked.

She was wearing a short slinky black dress with fishnet stockings and her auburn hair was held back with a diamante headband. Long sparkly earrings glittered as she moved her head. Her lips were scarlet against her pale face.

“My goodness. Where did my little tomboy go?” Harold said. “You’re not my little granddaughter anymore. You’re a right grown-up woman.”

Cathy leaned against him and laughed.

“It’s just a costume. We’re doing ‘All That Jazz’. I’ll always be your little granddaughter. I’d give you a big, old hug right now except I’d smudge my makeup and then I’d have to listen to Mom and Gran going on at me.”

“I know what you mean,” Harold said with feeling.

Cathy looked at him, biting a fingernail.

“Can I tell you something?”

Harold looked at her cautiously.

“Not boyfriend trouble, is it?”

Cathy shook her head.

“Don’t have one. No, it’s something else. I hate dance. I mean, I loathe it. I detest it.”

Harold stared.

“But, but …all these years, and all that time…”

Cathy shook her head.

“I didn’t mind it at first, but then Mom got so invested in it and guilt tripped me every time I wanted to stop. How hard it was for her as a single parent, how much it cost, all the sacrifices she made. This is the last show I’m going to do. Will you stand by me when I tell her?”

Harold sighed.

"Your mom would have loved to have done this at your age, but we never could afford it. But that doesn't mean you have to fulfill her dreams."

He held open his arms. She hugged him fiercely, sobbing.

" You’ve done your part. Enough is enough," Harold said.

He patted her on the back until she calmed down. She suddenly straightened up.

“Goodness, what time is it? Look, I got makeup all over your shirt. I’ve just got time to fix my face before I must go on.”

She sprang up and kissed Harold on the cheek.

“Go inside,” she said. “It’s my farewell performance and I don’t want you to miss it.”

Harold watched her scamper off, his heart swelling with love and pride. He made his way back into the lobby where Mavis pounced on him.

“Harold! Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere.”

“I’m afraid I had to enforce the rules, ma’am,” said the usher, winking at Harold. “He had to wait outside.”

Mavis sniffed.

“Typical. Wait. Is that lipstick on your cheek? What’s going on?”

Harold took her arm.

“I’ll tell you all about it later. Let’s go and watch Cathy.”