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The house was loud.
Admittedly, that was how you liked it – all giggles and stomping feet and the occasional fight – that’s just the price you and Elliott paid for living with two teenage girls. But ever since the valley got better reception, suddenly TockClock music and dance trends were all the rage.
You found Elliott at the desk in his office, leaning over a blank piece of paper with a hand balanced against his temple. He wasn’t writing, merely existing in the same space where his ideas once resided. All the while, joyous noise rolled through the house in bright peals of laughter.
“Did you know,” he begins, a look of warm affection on his face, “That they have been singing the same four lines over and over… and over again for the past hour?”
With a chuckle, you cross the room and slide into his lap. He’s more than happy for the reprieve, opening his arms and folding you into them with a sigh of frustrated relief.
“They’re trying to get a dance down so they can post a video for their friends in Grampleton,” you explain. “Something about first to go viral wins.”
Elliott shivers playfully. “A virus? Sounds dreadful. I’ll happily remain a Luddite and refrain from any TickClocks or whatever it’s called.”
The two of you joke around until you hear the girls barrelling down the stairs like a stampede, before living room furniture starts scraping across the floor.
“Perhaps we should investigate?” You say, standing with a stretch. Elliott follows close behind, the two of you peeking at the organized chaos within.
“We could do it in front of the fireplace. It carries a certain ambience,” Elora at 15 says – always the dreamer – sounding so much like her dad.
“Yeah, but then we’d have to balance the camera on the coffee table and it wouldn’t be a good angle. Let’s stack books.” Elonie at 17 says – ever the problem solver – directing her younger sister to the shelf where the large art books are kept.
“Or you could just ask your mother to hold the camera,” you say, as the girls notice you and Elliott huddled on the stairs.
You’re expecting a long, drawn out “Mooooooom,” but are met with thoughtful stares before an excited Elonie practically manhandles you into position, thrusting her phone into your hands.
Stars, you don’t know how you lucked out in the daughter department, but they were just so damn good.
“You know how to work that, right?” she asks, all practical as usual, just like you.
“Of course she does. It’s dad who’s a smidge behind on technology,” Elora chimes in, blushing furiously as Elliott joins everyone in the room to watch the show.
“Sorry dad,” she murmurs softly under her mess of dark chestnut curls.
He just shrugs jovially. “No apologies needed. I recognize and embrace my shortcomings.”
They finish setting up, take their positions, and instruct you when to hit record. Elliott stands over your shoulder, hands clasped behind his back, leaning forward. At first, he watches the screen, but technology only holds his interests for so long. Eventually, he’s more curious in the dance his daughters are attempting to perfect.
The moves are on the complicated side, but you and Elliott both recognize the song. It had been extremely popular nearly twenty years ago. Actually, right around the time you first met. He had danced you through the kitchen one stormy evening. It was the night, you realize with a smile, that you found out he knew how to dance.
By the fifth frustrated attempt from your daughters, you could tell they were starting to get discouraged.
“It’s the dip snap I keep messing up on. I’m not using the correct foot as I jump up.” Elonie grumbles, too critical. You thought she looked fine.
They go on for a few moments more, lamenting and feeling sorry for themselves before Elliott kisses you quickly on the cheek and scoots past.
“It’s not the moves that are the problem, you’re just not putting enough hip into it,” he says matter-of-factly to two very stunned girls.
“Daaaaad?” Elonie says cautiously. “What are you doing?”
Elliott turns to you, pointing at the phone in your hand. “Record me so I can demonstrate the part they’re having difficulty with.”
The girls step off to the side, giving him the floor. They’re not quite sure what to expect, but you can pretty much guarantee, it isn’t this.
Even though you’re both older, Elliott is still graceful. Bending and snapping back up, his hair flows in an arc of red and silver before falling back over his shoulders. He turns to you – and subsequently the phone – with a smirk. Briefly, you wonder if he realizes just how good in front of a camera he truly is, but it’s less about the performance and more about making his daughters happy.
His daughters, - you notice with a thrill of mirth – who are both staring, open mouthed, as he completes the routine to the end with a final low flourish and a pop of his hips. By the time you stop recording they’re screaming, unsure whether to race to the phone or their father.
“Oh. My. Yoba. Where did you learn do to that?”
“Dad, you were actually cool?”
“HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT DANCE?!? WHAT AREN’T YOU TELLING US?”
To be honest, you’re not even sure who is shouting what, their voices syncing in an eerily high-pitched tone that’s light on the spirit but sharp on the ears.
“Oh, that? It’s nothing,” he says with a dismissive but pleased wave of his hands. “Didn’t your father ever tell you he could dance before?” He asks his daughters sheepishly.
They grab the phone from you, surrounding their father as they play it back for him.
Elonie lifts an accusing brow at him. “You said you could ballroom dance. This isn’t ballroom!” She sputters incredulously.
“Well, there are aspects of the Paso Doble incorporated into some of the finer details… as well as the mambo,” he says rather shyly, a smile twitching on the corners of his mouth.
“Dad, we thought you knew how to waltz. That’s what you would do with us as kids!” Elora laughs, tapping play on the video once again so the trio can watch in wonder.
You smile at that, sneaking in under Elliott’s welcoming arm to join in the delight. Elora was correct. You do remember him letting them stand on his feet as he slowly waltzed them around the kitchen as children. They just had no clue what other dances ballroom entailed.
And this man – this wonderful man – actually blushes under the praise of his two teenage daughters. Preens at how, even after all this time, he still effortlessly manages to be the centre of their world.