Page 43 of Mr. Principal

“You’re not the Grouch, you’re more like Elmo… or Big Bird.”

“Thanks, Carter. I appreciate that. Such a sweet compliment to be compared to a giant yellow bird.”

“Well, you are sort of on the tall side,” he said, and I swatted him with my menu. He caught my hand and held it. We stayed like that with our hands linked until dinner arrived.

The restaurant had a seasonal menu which meant it was limited. We ordered whatever our hostess recommended which for us was almost everything.

“Oh my God, that was so, so good,” I said, patting my stomach an hour later as I sat back against my chair. I was stuffed and I didn’t even feel guilty about it. We’d had a mix of meat, rice, and veggie dishes. The ingredients were familiar but the spices and seasonings used transported me back to our Caribbean trip. Everything had tasted authentic and fresh and left me wanting more although I was stuffed.

“Any dessert?” Ann, our hostess asked us, as she brought us the bill. “Our baker is Cuban, and she makes the best flan in town.”

“I don’t doubt it, but I’m stuffed.”

She turned to Carter. “I’ll take one, but to go,” he said.

My eyes widened. “You still have room for dessert after all that food?” It was no exaggeration that every plate on our table was empty. We’d even eaten the vegetables that were supposed to serve as decorations on the plate.

He shrugged and gave me a smile. “I’m greedy and I have a sweet tooth.”

“Aww… I’d forgotten about the sweet tooth.”

We stood up and Ann mentioned something about dropping dessert off for Carter downstairs. I didn’t think anything of it and then he said. “I hope you’re ready for some dancing.”

I really didn’t think I was. My belly was too full, but dancing was my guilty pleasure while I’d been married to Tom. To relax or to feel happy, I would dance around our living room in my underwear. But dancing had always been my escape from a tense household. Growing up, I’d participated in all the free dancing gigs that I could.

In college, I’d been part of an informal dancing team and had even flirted with being a dancing major, but my mom had quickly squashed that idea.

“We didn’t send you to college so that you could major in dance and be poor,” my mom had said succinctly.

And so, I’d just majored in marketing, but dancing had been my passion. Ironically, I hadn’t pursued my passion and I’d still ended up poor.

The music was louder now, and the band was playing classic Bob Marley. The dance floor was filled with couples having a great time and we quickly found ourselves doing the same.

Even though Carter was a terrible dancer, I found myself laughing more that night than any other night I could remember. Carter was a ball of energy so I could forgive him for all his really embarrassing NSYNC and Backstreet Boys moves.

No wonder no one bought his reggae album, I thought to myself with a giggle.

I tugged on his arm and shouted over the music, “I need to get some water. Let’s take a break.”

He nodded, grabbed my hand and we made our way off the dance floor.

“You looked great out there. I guess you never lost your touch in the dance department.”

“I stayed up to date by watching YouTube and dancing around my house when Tom was at work and Meredith was at school.”

“Sounds like a good use of time to me,” he said non-judgmentally as he reached for a bottle of water and handed one to me, as well.

“I probably should have been cleaning or cooking... you know, actually being productive at the time. No wonder I was such a crap housewife.”

“Hey, remember the rule, no negative talk.”

“Fine, fine,” I said. “You were always annoyingly positive. Always being nice and trying to save the world.”

He nodded. “That’s me.”

“I’m joking.”

He looked at me and smiled. “I know. Someone had to be positive in our group. Piper always had her head in the clouds, you were always moping, so I was Mr. Optimistic by default.”