8.14 Part Two: Recital Night and Harbor

At the recital...

   I held onto my glass of nonalcoholic grape juice, as I sat at one of the small tables that was on the balcony overlooking the ballet studio's performance area. Marlo's performance had just finished and now she was being forced to follow her instructor and the studio's owner around, telling everyone who had shown up to the recital slash open house about how the studio has made her life so much better and how every kid needs the exact same experience. If you had children, you needed to sign them up for top notch private lessons that cost a pretty penny and if you were childless you needed to donate money to the studio so they could higher more instructors and expand and maintain the facilities. I thought the studio was great; Marlo seemed to love it, but you would have thought that at the cost of the lessons they could have bothered buying better quality food and some alcoholic beverages.
   As terrible as it sounds, I was partially grateful that Maya hadn't shown up. I felt terrible for Marlo, but if she had come the night would have been turned into an awkward act of avoidance and me wish that the studio served vodka and cranberry juice. Dealing with Maya was difficult to do when sober, not impossible, I did it all the time, but extremely difficult.
   "Hey, man." I heard a voice behind me say.
   "Yeah." I said, as I turned to see a man with a Rolex and polished, leather shoes behind me. "Um, hello."
   "Hey, I just wanted to say congratulations. You're daughter's the skinny little thing that did the solo, right?"
   "Uh, huh. Marlo." I proudly nodded.

   "She did great with the dancing, as well as the salesmanship. She's highly convincing; I've been on the fence about getting lessons for my kid, they're so damn expensive and with my eldest's tuition I wasn't sure, but after she did her pitch, I'm in."
   "Ah, well she defiantly gets the convincing part from her mother." I chuckled. "I'm Harbor Janes."
   "Walter Wallace." He said, as he stuck out his hand, which I gladly shook.
   "So, you've got a daughter?"
   "Son, actually. He does football and the coach suggested he try ballet to help out during off season. The wife decided since I was the one who got him into football, I was the one who had to come tonight. I see you got forced into it, too."
   "I'm actually part of the middle aged divorcee crowd. The ex is a bit flaky and head strong, so I'm usually the one who has to come to these things."
   "Ouch. Sorry, man."
   "It's fine. We called it quits a few years ago, at this point I'm use to it. The kids are the ones who suffer."
   "Woman." He said, shaking his head. "Some of 'em are blessing, some of 'em are curses."
   "I feel bad for the next generation who finds that out about my daughters."

   "Ha, really! I got myself an eighteen year old, she's off at uni and starting to date, I'm telling you. She's a sweet girl, but incredibly detail oriented, which is great considering the fact that she'd studying maths, but for her boyfriend not so much."
   "I've got two girls, my eldest just entered high school... I'm dreading the day she discovers boys, or even girls for that matter."
   "Eh. I learned that you can try to protect your baby girl as much as possible, but eventually you just gotta let 'em make their own choices and trust 'em. They'll get hurt, you can't stop that, you just gotta be ready to comfort 'em."
   "Good advice... thanks."
   "No problem. I wish someone had told me it four years ago, might as well pass it on."
   "How old's your son?"
   "Eight. Lemme tell you, kiddie sports has gotten much more competitive since we've been kids."
   "Let's see... I was never the athletic type, but for me that was about two and a half decades ago."
   "You're kidding, right? Twenty-five years ago I was twenty-three."
   "I was nine."
   "And you're calling yourself middle aged?"
   "I am, in a way. I got the cruddy office job, the ex-wife, the two kids that are almost teenagers, if I had the mid-life crisis I'd be set."

   "Oh, no. Man, wait until forty. That's when everything starts falling apart. My back, my allergies, my hair started thinning. Forty-five is when the wrinkles and graying and need for reading glasses started; the really middle aged is in your early forties, not thirties."
   "I dunno..."
   "Trust me, the forties is middle aged. In fact, the wife and I decided instead of sports cars or new homes or some insane criss purchases, we'd each take separate vacations. She's going to Paris, France with her book club and I'm planning on Vegas, baby."
   "Vegas, huh?"
   "You ever been? The only time I've been was for my bachelor party and with my frat to celebrate the fact that we'd all made it through college and earned our LL.M. degrees." He's got a degree in law? I've got my measly high school degree and he's got a bachelor's degree and a what, Juris Doctor Degree, and an LL.M.?
   "Um, yeah I've been once. Didn't end well."
   "You should go sometime."
   "I don't know, with my job and having to plan everything and the kids..."
   "Don't you have a girlfriend who can watch the kids? Or couldn't your ex?"
   "We'd have to change t he custody plan, she'd never agree and there isn't a girlfriend."
   "I'm surprised, there's got to be a single ballet mom who's got the intelligence and kindness to go along with the looks you could convince to give something a go."
   "I've been focused on raising he girls properly and my job." I shrugged. "Dating hasn't been a priority."
   "You know what, my trip's booked for three weeks from now, why don't you come along? Do Vegas right, maybe find someone who can help you get back in the game."
   "I don't know... my job, the kids-"

   "Look, if it's money, the thing's already booked and we've payed for it; it won't cost you a dime, other than the gambling and food. My friend's had to drop cause their kid's going into the military and that's the last weekend they have together, but we still have two hotel rooms booked. It'd be us and two other guys from my office. We're all happily married so we can't party and we need a single guy to live vicariously through."
   "I appreciate the offer, honestly, but I'm not a party guy, I wouldn't want to ruin your mid life crisis trip. Also, we've just met, how do you know I'm not some effed up creep?"
   "I'll take my chances. Besides, if you're in your early thirties and have a high schooler, you probably haven't ever got the chance to party properly. When else are you gonna have the chance to get to go to Vegas for free, while you're still young?" He did have a point, as much as I hated to admit it. Besides, I hadn't had a break from parenting in so long, it couldn't hurt to have a bit of relaxation.
   "Fine... Okay, I'll discuss with Maya tonight when I drop the kids off at her place and if she agrees to watch Phoebe and Marlo, then okay."
   "Great; I knew I could convince you. Trust me, we'll show you how to party right... Reasonably, of course."
   I had come to the ballet studio expecting to be over eager for the recital to be finished, but instead I ended up enjoying myself, made a new friend, and am going to Vegas. Not bad.