He mixed up left and right.
He nearly toppled over whenever he tried to spin.
More than once, we ended up laughing so hard that we couldn’t continue practicing.
But he never gave up.
One afternoon, while we were practicing in the school gym, a few parents stopped to watch.
Some smiled.
Otros parecían confundidos.
One father even applauded.
Dad simply kept trying.
Even when he looked completely ridiculous.
A few days before the performance, one of his biker friends came by the house. His name was Rick.
Los dos se pararon en la entrada hablando mientras yo estaba sentado en el porche cercano.
When Dad mentioned the performance, Rick shook his head.
“You’re seriously going on stage doing ballet?” he asked.
Dad nodded.
“You aren’t afraid of what the guys are going to think?” Rick asked.
Dad just shrugged.
Rick stared at him.
“¿En serio?”
Dad looked over at me.
His expression immediately softened.
“Seriously.”
For some reason, those words made warmth spread through my chest.
Maybe it was because I understood how much the club meant to him.
Father’s Day arrived faster than I expected.
I felt nervous from the moment I woke up.
My hands wouldn’t stop trembling.
Dad seemed nervous too, even though he did his best not to show it.
Backstage, he adjusted the costume shirt my ballet teacher had talked him into wearing.
“I look ridiculous,” he muttered.
“You do,” I agreed.
He laughed.
“Thanks for the support.”
“You’re welcome.”
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