“Daddy, Daddy, dance with me!” Elise shrieked, running in circles around Eric, her chubby toddler legs pumping furiously.
With a smile, her father scooped her up, as she squealed with delight. He spun her through the living room, music playing softly in the background.
“You dance wonderfully, Elise,” Eric told her.
Elise giggled. “Thanks Daddy. I want to be a ballerina when I get big.”
“And you will be an amazing ballerina,” Eric said to her.
“The best ballerina?”
“The best ballerina.”
*****
“Dance with me Daddy,” Elise pleaded, fiddling with her long blonde hair. Eric sighed and turned away from his computer.
“I’m working sweetie,” he said wearily. “Can you be a big girl and wait to dance?”
“But-”
“I don’t have time for this Elise,” Eric snapped
“It’s my birthday Daddy,” Elise told him. “I’m eight today.”
Eric blinked. “Oh, well, in that case. . .” He closed his laptop and took his spot as her dance partner.
“Sorry, sweetie,” he murmured. “I promise I’ll start spending more time with you.”
Elise bit her lip. At age eight, she was old enough to know that the promise wasn’t true if it had to be made more than once.
****
“Dad! Dance with me!” Elise yelled.
“Elise, I’m busy.”
“Come on, we need to celebrate. I got accepted into the ballet academy. I’m the only girl under sixteen who was accepted.”
Eric turned around to stare at her, confused. “You applied to the academy?”
“Yes,” Elise replied.
Eric began to get very red. “I told you not to. I told you not to waste my hard-earned money on something so frivolous.”
“But it’s not frivolous. I want to be a dancer. This is going to be a huge asset to my career. I thought you’d appreciate how proactive I was being when I applied.” Elise said.
“A huge asset to your career?” Eric asked, incredulous. “Sweetie, you need to grow up a little. The dancer thing was cute when you were little, but it’s just not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“How do I put this? You’re not exactly professional dancer material. It’s a competitive atmosphere, and I just don’t know that you can keep up.”
“That’s not what my instructors think,” Elise told him.
“Well, if you’re so intent on this, then I’m sure you can come up with the money to pay for the academy.”
“I will, Dad.”
****
Dance with me Daddy, Elise thought. But she didn't say anything. She didn't tell Eric that she was the top in her class, that she already gotten offers from preforming arts colleges across the country. She didn't tell him that she had picked the school of her dreams in New York, or that she wanted to celebrate with him.
Eric sat at his computer, clicking away on the keyboard. He was unaware of the thickness that permeated the air, made of years of unspoken words and forgotten promises and encouragement.
She’s worse than her mother, was all Eric bothered to think of his daughter. She left me to deal with all the problems, and Elise is even worse because she only cares about her stupid fairy tale dreams. She doesn't care enough to help me take care of what’s left of this family.
Elise quietly gathered her things and slung her bag over her shoulder. She didn't disturb her father. Under her breath, she said four words. Then she walked out of the house and pulled her car out of the driveway. She looked back at the house only once before it slipped out of sight.
****
One calm summer morning, Eric got up, and moved through the quiet house, retrieved the newspaper from outside, and sat down at the table. The house was dead quiet.
“It’s almost as if I’m the only person in the universe,” he said to nobody.
The newspaper had nothing he found interesting in the headlines, so he flipped to the sports page, hoping to check the baseball stats. A picture of Elise, her long legs stretched out in a leap, her hair pulled away from her face, stared up at him.
“Honey,” Eric called, “you’re in the paper. They featured you for your dancing, I guess.” There was no answer. “Honey?”
The house was silent. Elise wasn't there, because she was dancing on her own.