It was a long shot at best, but I was hoping that maybe, somehow, he had forgotten all about what had happened that night—what he'd seen. Since it was apparent that wasn't the case, my immediate reaction was one of confusion. What had occurred in the past two or so months that made him forgive me? Or want to be near me? I needed to know the answers, but I was so overcome with joy by his return and the feel of us dancing together that I stopped caring. For just that one night, I wanted to pretend that everything was normal. That I was normal. An hour and a half into the class, we had learned a large portion of the piece. It was time to break into partners and practice an intricate and somewhat dangerous lift section that Pam had devised. If executed properly, it was simply stunning. If not, it was an ER trip at best, and a hospital sleepover at worst. We watched it several times, noting the hand and leg positions and watching how our body weight and momentum could be counterbalanced.
