There we are. All three of us. Lined up like little ducks. Holding onto the ballet barre for dear life. Practicing en pointe. None of us has much business doing this but we don’t care. It’s still a free country, isn’t it?
Kristin stands next to me with a large grin on her face. Thin and smooth, with neat, quick feet and graceful arms. A lawyer for a Human Rights nonprofit of some sort, Kristin was born to be a swan. To my left, Monique. Platinum blond, former professional dancer, dressed in a black silk ballet skirt and dusty pink tights; Monique is now the mother of two small girls, and she can do a triple pirouette without thinking.
I’m in the center. Average height, average weight, average looks. Flanked by greater talent, greater beauty . “If Patty can do it, I can do it! “my two comrades think to themselves. I have this effect on people sometimes.
“Is there free healthcare yet?” Mikhail the Russian asks. His hand is out, looking for a government freebie, and who can blame him? Teaching pliés to beautiful and compliant adult women can be almost as monotonous as the constant sunshine and cloudless skies of LA.
“Nothing is for free!” I laugh, sneaking a glance at Kristin.
Kristin seems to unfocus her eyes as I look at her, and she manages to somehow shrink her head. She looks out-of-focus and fuzzy, her body distant and faraway. ”Universal health care is social justice. Health care is a right,” she says.
Suddenly, there’s a lot more room at the barre. Where did everybody go?
I try to explain, “But the government has no money…”
Monique bends down to tie her already tied ribbons on the left pink toe shoe. A cold lonely breeze blows upwards towards my reddening face.
“The country is 1.2 trillion dollars in debt…” My words bounce off empty walls, and fall, alone and rejected, onto the well-worn wooden floor.
“We can’t afford it.” I say to no one in particular. “The country can’t afford it!”
