“Could you use some help?” she asked, as she took one of Sarah’s hands in her own.
“What do I do?” he whispered.
“Come on.” She nodded her head toward the bathroom.
Brody stood outside while the Elizabeth went in with Sarah. He wrung his hands together until they came out about five minutes later. Sarah’s tears were dry and her frown was replaced with a half-smile. He bent down to her level.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“I told those stupid girls you had bought me this dress and the pretty clips in my hair and everything else and they said that it didn’t count because you’re not my real dad.” She sniffled.
“Oh. They were just being mean, Sarah. You know what the difference is between those ‘real’ dads and me?”
“What?” She asked as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cotton handkerchief and handed it to her. She blew her nose loudly and gave it back. Brody took it and put it back in his pocket without saying a word.
“The difference between them and me is those dads are here because they have to be here. And me?” He patted his chest. “I’m here because I want to be here.” He smiled at her.
Her face lit up like the Fourth of July. She grabbed his hand and led him back out onto the dance floor, with him laughing all the way behind her.
They danced almost every dance, drank punch with no spills and Brody could honestly say it was one of the best nights he had passed in quite some time. Sarah was a charming child. She was smart, thoughtful, independent, adorable, and a free thinker. She was quick to laugh and even quicker to make someone else laugh with her.
Sarah was exhausted when the dance was over at nine. Brody danced the last dance with her against his chest, her head on his shoulder, and her feet not even touching the ground.
The night had not been a disaster. I actually pulled it off and had a great time doing it.
Her breath blew against his chin as she raised her head. She grabbed his face in her two small hands and looked into his eyes. “Thanks, Brody, for taking me to the dance. This was the best night of my life. I’m really glad your mom made you do it.”
Brody chucked lightly, slightly taken aback by her candor and the serious look on her face, her two hands commanding his full attention. He bent and put her feet on the floor. He bowed low before her and said, “The pleasure was all mine, my lady. Are you ready to go home?”
She nodded her head, “Yeah. I just need to go to the bathroom first.”
Brody looked around and didn’t see Elizabeth behind the punchbowl.
“I’m old enough to take myself to the bathroom, you know,” she scolded, her eyebrows drawn together, terribly affronted by the fact he might think she was a baby.
“I know you are, Sarah.” Brody looked around and saw many of the parents were leaving. He walked with Sarah to the ladies room and stood outside the door. “Go ahead. But come straight back out.”
Sarah rolled her eyes dramatically and went through the bathroom door.
Brody stood outside the door for a moment, tapping his foot with impatience. He jumped as a hard edge of a table pressed into his leg.
“Hey, you,” one of the dads called out. “Grab the other end of that table for me, will you?”
The slightly overweight father was huffing and puffing while rearranging the tables, so Brody grabbed one end and lifted. “Where are we going with it?”
“Just over by that wall.” The dad pointed with his chin in the direction he wanted to go.
Brody walked backward until he was told to stop and deposited the table on the other side of the room.
“Thanks, man,” the hefty father said.
“No problem,” Brody replied, turning to walk back to the bathroom. Just as he reached the door, Elizabeth walked out. He stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Do you know what’s taking Sarah so long?”
“Sarah?” Elizabeth questioned. “There’s no one else in the bathroom, Brody.”
“What?” Brody barked as he pressed by her and barged his way into the room. He pushed open the stall doors, one by one, the noise bouncing off the walls of the small room like gunshots.