Neighborhood Steele - Part One
She lifted her arms, stretching up far over her head, growing miraculously taller as her rib cage lifted. One hand swept downwards. A swift, fluid motion brought it back up, accompanied this time by a foot. She paused, leg held straight in a pose that looked equally painful and graceful, defying the confines of physical ability. She released the leg, brought the other one up, and froze once again, the only movement that of her abdomen expanding and deflating as she breathed.
She can’t possibly take it any further.
She began to rise. It was so seamless at first that an onlooker might have thought it was merely her spine lengthening a tiny bit more. But the foot remaining on the floor was slowly unfolding, until, with a tiny hop, she was supporting herself on the very point of her toes. She remained that way for several seconds before releasing the leg above her head and coming down fluently onto two flat feet.
Unbelievable.
Laura turned around, breathing heavily, and smiled at him. He was sitting up in bed, staring at her as though she’d just sung the Queen of the Night’s aria while standing on her head with her nose plugged.
“What?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Was that as painful as it looked?”
“Probably,” she grinned.
“Do you always do this in the morning?”
Laura blushed. “Most mornings. It gives me time to think before the day starts.”
“Have you been doing it for the last month?”
“Usually before you’re awake, I guess.”
Steele frowned. “Is it something I’m not supposed to see?”
“Of course not!”
“Then why have you been trying to hide it?”
“I haven’t, it’s just…”
“What?”
She sighed heavily. “Just private, that’s all.”
Steele sighed too, but in obvious frustration. Issues like this had been a growing problem since they’d settled in to life together. The problem is that we haven’t settled, he thought. At the office, Laura continued to be her usual, workaholic self, absorbed in their cases, and happy to be in control of every situation. At home, however, she danced around him as though on tiptoe, cautious about everything she did in his presence. She would only play the piano while he was in the shower. If they watched a movie, she invariably insisted that he choose it. Now he found out that she only did ballet while he was asleep. In short, she was becoming unbearably accommodating, and he felt as though he were intruding.
Laura looked at the ground and said, “We promised that realtor we’d meet him at 9:30. I’d better take a shower.”
“I’ll make breakfast,” Steele answered, watching ruefully as she turned her back to him.
What am I doing wrong?
She can’t possibly take it any further.
She began to rise. It was so seamless at first that an onlooker might have thought it was merely her spine lengthening a tiny bit more. But the foot remaining on the floor was slowly unfolding, until, with a tiny hop, she was supporting herself on the very point of her toes. She remained that way for several seconds before releasing the leg above her head and coming down fluently onto two flat feet.
Unbelievable.
Laura turned around, breathing heavily, and smiled at him. He was sitting up in bed, staring at her as though she’d just sung the Queen of the Night’s aria while standing on her head with her nose plugged.
“What?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Was that as painful as it looked?”
“Probably,” she grinned.
“Do you always do this in the morning?”
Laura blushed. “Most mornings. It gives me time to think before the day starts.”
“Have you been doing it for the last month?”
“Usually before you’re awake, I guess.”
Steele frowned. “Is it something I’m not supposed to see?”
“Of course not!”
“Then why have you been trying to hide it?”
“I haven’t, it’s just…”
“What?”
She sighed heavily. “Just private, that’s all.”
Steele sighed too, but in obvious frustration. Issues like this had been a growing problem since they’d settled in to life together. The problem is that we haven’t settled, he thought. At the office, Laura continued to be her usual, workaholic self, absorbed in their cases, and happy to be in control of every situation. At home, however, she danced around him as though on tiptoe, cautious about everything she did in his presence. She would only play the piano while he was in the shower. If they watched a movie, she invariably insisted that he choose it. Now he found out that she only did ballet while he was asleep. In short, she was becoming unbearably accommodating, and he felt as though he were intruding.
Laura looked at the ground and said, “We promised that realtor we’d meet him at 9:30. I’d better take a shower.”
“I’ll make breakfast,” Steele answered, watching ruefully as she turned her back to him.
What am I doing wrong?