Spinning at the Seams

After school I stopped at my home to change into my ballet leotard and slippers. I left a note for Marc reminding him where I was, because apparently the fact that I had ballet once a week on Mondays at five, had never stuck in my brothers mind, even though I had been doing ballet on Mondays at five since I was three. I shook my head as I locked the door to my house behind me, typical boy; forget all dates and times unless it concerns some sort of sports game. Those he could name off the top of his head, but ask him where I went every Monday at five, and all he could do is stare at you blankly.

When I arrived at the Park District Mallory was already there. She worked as secretary/children’s class organizer. Her mom being the Park District President had helped us get our jobs. I now taught three to thirteen year olds ballet three days a week, while my dance instructor taught fourteen to twenty-one year olds the other three days a week. Mallory waved me over and I checked the clock, I had time.

Mallory was on the phone with someone, and based on the way the conversation was going, I’d say the person on the other end was a very irate parent.

“I’m aware of that, unfortunately,-“

“No, I really can’t there is-“ Mallory rolled her eyes at whatever was being said.

“Look, I’ll see what I can do, unfortunately based on current class sizes, I really can’t promise anything. But I will see what I can do.” At that she said goodbye and hung up, burying her face in her hands, muttering something as she shook her head. I waited for her to say something.

“I hate parents who think that their kid is better then any other kid. You remember that class for young writers?” I nodded, I remembered her telling me about it, it sounded like something Di and Olivia would do. “Well, I had ten too many kids sign up. The teacher will only accept a max of 30 for one class, something about how any number above that will take away from the individual creative attention some children need. So I asked if we could have a class of just 10 and she refused saying she would teach no less then twelve. So then I had to call parents of the ten who signed up last, all of whom are mad because their kid is getting cut, and wanted someone else to get cut. And I refuse to argue with the teacher cause she’s old and scares me.” I bit back laughter, Mallory scared of some old lady, and I never thought I’d see the day.

“Well how about I sign up Olivia and Di for it? It would help my scheduling conflict, but you’d have to be willing to let Julia stay in here with you during the class.” I watched Mallory consider this then nod.

“Anything to get that angry mother off my back, and I love your little sister, spending Wednesdays with her is a blast, I wouldn’t mind spending Monday with her as well. Which is when the class is by the way, Monday’s at 5:30 till 6:30, and yes I will keep and eye on the Double Mint Twins for you till their class starts.” I nodded relieved; this ended Marc having to watch them when he got home from football practice at four. I hated leaving them with Marc; he could barely take care of himself, let alone my three sisters for any period of time.

“So what did Adam ask you about? I saw him whisper something, and then I couldn’t get your attention after class, so I asked Hunter and he said he had no idea, only that you tensed when he said it. So what did he say?” Mallory looked at me expectantly. What was I supposed to tell her? If I told her the truth then she’d be suspicious that I was hiding something from her. If I lied she’d know. I’m a well-known horrible liar.

“Only something stupid about how I was different and he was going to find out why.” That was half true, he had said something about me being different. Hopefully the fact that it wasn’t a complete lie wouldn’t make her suspicious. It failed; she looked at me confusion and skepticism evident in her face. I was saved from whatever question she was about to ask by a friendly voice behind me.

“Miss Antonia! It’s nice to see you here early, I wanted to discuss this year’s recital with you.” I smiled as I turned to see my dance teacher, her hand on the door leading to the dance studio, multiple keys in her hand. She taught dance at multiple Park Districts, so no doubt those keys each opened a different studio. Her gray hair was curled around her head, and her brown eyes held delight. She was wearing a purple leotard and tights, and her ballet slippers were black compared to the white ones her students all wore. She had taught my dance classes since I was three. She was forty something then, and was fifty something now, but she still taught dance.

“Hi Mrs. Connors, I actually came early to talk to you about my ideas as well,” that was a lie, I’d come early because I had wanted to stretch, but Mrs. Connors didn’t need to know that. I watched her nod, as she opened the door. She waved me in, and I turned back to Mallory. She still looked doubtfully at me, but her hand was reaching towards the binder in front of her, probably writing my sisters into the class, and noting to deduct their class fees from my paycheck. I waved and walked in to the room Mrs. Connors had just opened. Mrs. Connors just talked about the recital and I gave my input here and there, not really paying attention. My mind keep replaying my conversation with Adam over and over, like a CD skipping. Finally Mrs. Connors stopped talking and began class. I walked to my spot besides Quinn. Quinn was tall, her blonde hair was in a bun that was held at the nape of her neck, her pink leotard looked natural against her peaches and cream complexion, and her green eyes were closed as she stretched.

“Hey Quinn,” I greeted. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked at me, a smile spreading across her face.

“Hey Tones, I have a new neighbor.” I looked at her surprised, Quinn lived in one of the richest neighborhoods in town, the houses were all century old mansions and the one next to her had been vacant since before she was born, at least according to her.

“Really, wow, are they going to your school?” Quinn went to a private school on the north side of town. I went to the public school that was smack dab in the middle of town; most of the kids who lived in Quinn’s neighborhood went to St. Claire’s College Preparatory Institute. I watched her shake her head looking annoyed.

“No, they go to the public school, I have no idea why, seeing that St. Claire’s is closer to us, but their choice I suppose.” Quinn was a little stuck up, but she was usually nice.

“Oh, cool what’s-“ I didn’t get to finish that thought as Mrs. Connors began class with our typical warm ups, which required total concentration. Apparently the human body does not willingly want to be bent as though it’s a rubber band. I had to rush home after class to start dinner, so I never got to finish my conversation with Quinn, I’d find out soon enough though.

“Marc, I’m home! Come help me with dinner!” I screamed as I walked through the door. If Marc was grounded he was helping me with dinner, and he knew if he didn’t I’d complain to Mom, who would then extend his grounding. It’s not that I’m a tattletale, just that I don’t like doing all the housework when I have a brother, with two very capable hands and nothing to do. I ran up the stairs to change into jeans and pounded on his door as I passed it. “Now Marc! Dinner needs to be ready by seven, so I can have Julia’s bath by 7:45 and her in bed with a story by 8:30!” I yelled at his door, which still didn’t budge, “If you’re not down by the time I’m done changing, I’m putting red dye in your whites!” That wasn’t a bluff, I’d done it before, and Marc had to wear pink shirts under his uniform for 3 weeks till Mom finally had time to take him out to get new ones. I heard footsteps on the other side of the door, and I assumed he was up, so I ran to my room and changed out of my leotard, and into a sweatshirt and a pair of comfy jeans, before racing back downstairs.

Marc was standing there, looking none to happy. “Remind me again why I have to help you with dinner, I was in the middle of a very important conversation with Rick.” I rolled my eyes, Rick was his best friend, and the biggest jerk ever. He was well known by freshmen as the “Atomic Wedgies”, and loved to annoy me in anyway possible.

“I doubt you could have any kind of real conversation with him, he can barely string a sentence together, let alone have any serious thoughts that warrant conversation material.” Marc just rolled his eyes, and went to the fridge.

“So what are we making then,” he asked looking over his shoulder at me, I thought about it for a minute.

“We’ll do spaghetti and meatballs, with garlic bread and a salad, it’s quick and easy to make.” Marc nodded and started grabbing ingredients, when I realized something. “Marc where is everyone,” He looked up at me, and then pointed a finger, which was more of a knuckle considering his hands were full of salad ingredients.

“Upstairs, the Olson twins are doing some writing thing, they claimed they had a ‘sudden inspiration’, and Julia is at her play group, she’s coming home in a half hour, just in time for dinner. Don’t worry, I think Mrs. Jameson is driving her home.” I nodded, I had a feeling Hunter had wrangled Julia to stay knowing my worry about her left alone with Marc.

“Okay, good, then lets start shall we? Why don’t you chop the vegetables while I start the spaghetti and meatballs.” He nodded and I went to the pantry to grab the noodles, and canned sauce.

We worked in silence for a while when Marc’s voice suddenly pierced the silence.

“It’s true, she is pregnant, and it’s still not mine.” I spun quickly to look at him, shocked he had told me, he’d never told me these things before. I recovered and nodded waiting for him to continue, this never happened, so I didn’t know how to go about this. “I don’t know whose it is, she won’t tell me. But I’m not going to break up with her over this.” He hadn’t turned around the entire time he’d been talking, and his back was still to me.

“Why?” I didn’t think it necessary to point out that if she’s pregnant and if it’s not his then she must have cheated on him.

“Because we all make mistakes, and she made one, she probably slept with the guy in a drunken stupor, and I can’t bring myself to hate her for that. I’ve made out with other girls while drunk, and she didn’t break up with me when I admitted that, so I can only return the courtesy.” I blinked shocked, that was the worst logic I’d ever heard. How many times had he hit his head being tackled?

“Marc, you didn’t have sex with those girls, there’s a big difference between making out and hooking up. And drunk or not she still betrayed you in a way that is much worse then the way you betrayed her.” He still didn’t turn around, so I gave the spaghetti and the sauce each a stir, before coming to stand at the counter next to him.

“I don’t want to be dad,” he said quietly, I reeled in shock at that. He wasn’t becoming Dad. Dad left after getting someone else pregnant, he left a family who needed him, and kids who were to young too grow up, and were forced to anyway. Marc wasn’t dad, he wasn’t perfect, but he wasn’t as bad as dad. I put my hand on his back lightly.

“Marc, you are not dad. Dad left us, we were his flesh and blood and he left us. He left us for another family. He left the two of us, who weren’t ready to grow up and needed to be to handle this. He left Olivia and Di, both of whom were not old enough to even understand this, without feeling like it was their fault. He left Julia, who doesn’t even remember him. He left Mom, who did nothing wrong to be left. Marc you would never do that. And breaking up with Tiffany for betraying you does not make you dad, it makes you human.” I watched his face as I said this, at the mention of Julia and Mom, his face had gotten an odd look on it.

“Dad didn’t leave just because Nina got pregnant, he left because he doesn’t think Julia’s his child.” He said it so quietly I had to lean in to hear him.

“What? What are you talking about? Julia looks just like us.” Marc’s face was unreadable as I said this.

“Julia looks like a young Grandma Marilyn, mom always said that, and I heard mom and dad arguing a few days before he left. He was saying that Julia’s birthday and conception dates didn’t make sense, Mom said they did, but he didn’t believe her. He left a few days after that argument.” He had gotten quieter as he said this, but I refused to believe it. Mom wouldn’t cheat on dad, and even if she did, that didn’t excuse his actions.

“Marc listen to me carefully, even if that’s true, we, you and me, are still his, and he left us. He walked away from our lives, and left us to pick up the pieces that shouldn’t have fallen in the first place. He walked away without a word of goodbye, he walked away without telling us why. We had to find out at school remember?” Marc nodded, his face in pain at that memory, it was something we tried to block out. “Marc, Tiffany can’t force you to raise this child, he needs his real father. Even if it happened one night, it still happened, and he has a right to know his child. Marc, if you want to stay with her don’t let the baby be the reason. Imagine if she’d told you she’d slept with some guy and hadn’t gotten pregnant, whatever you would do then, do now ok? And if you want to remain friends with her and help her raise the child as a friend or boyfriend, then do it, I’ll support you either way. But don’t let her force you into anything, you have no legal claim or responsibility to the child ok?” I patted his back and went to stir the noodles, before straining them. Marc still hadn’t moved, the knife he’d been holding was sitting on the cutting board, not moving. I was about to say something when suddenly Julia burst into the room and came running right at me, latching her arms around my leg. I looked at Marc, who had turned at the sound of the door opening and was looking at Julia’s arms on my leg with hurt in his eyes. It was gone in an instant though as a male voice floated into the kitchen the sound reaching before the person.

“Toni, please tell me I can stay for dinner, my mom’s making meatloaf and I’m too nice to tell her that I hate meatloaf.” Hunter walked into the kitchen then, and stopped short at the sight of my brother, who seemed none to happy to see him. This was going to be interesting.