Dimitri stood in front of the wall of windows overlooking the lake. He jumped in a perfect stag leap—front leg bent, back leg extended behind him. For a moment, he looked as though he were floating in air. He landed, perfectly, on the pads of his sock-covered toes. He hadn’t brought ballet slippers, and street shoes were not permitted in studios. Hard soles scuffed floors. Nia fiddled with the computer on the wall. A gentle waltz slipped through the speakers. She twirled into him. He grasped her waist. She rose to the tips of her satin-wrapped pointe shoes and, facing him, extended her back leg into arabesque. He rotated her sideways and slipped his hand beneath her raised thigh. She readied to fly. He lifted her high above his head. She bent her knee and pointed her foot to her thigh, confident that the movement wouldn’t upset his hold. After a moment, he placed her pointed foot back on the floor. He stepped to the side, hand still outstretched, offering his physical support for whatever she wanted to do next.
