Soundtrack:

All songs by Stevie Wonder,

1. Sir Duke,
2. Superstition,
3. My Cherie Amour,
4. Higher Ground.

This wasn't quite what you had envisioned for your life. The laundry basket was heavy and balanced just on your hip and you gripped the tiny hand of your 6 year old daughter tightly with your other hand. You had only been living here for a week and a half, and the one thing you hadn't quite taken into account was managing the four flights of stairs with a clean load of laundry fresh from the first floor dryers.

The place was cheap enough for you to afford the two bedroom unit in a safe part of town and still be able to afford certain things like food and electricity on your income. Nari’s dance lessons came out of the support you received from your ex. You swore to yourself that no matter how tough things got, you would let her stay in the class she loved so much.

“Nari, stop jumping up the stairs, just walk normally.” You could feel your palm getting sweaty and you wanted to switch sides, but the girl was selective in her hearing. If you didn’t use your ‘mom voice’, she usually just did what she wanted.

The landing at the top flight of stairs was wet from that morning’s dew and you held her hand tightly as she jumped up to the final step, singing some song you hadn’t heard before and you sighed in a deep breath to finally see your front door fast approaching.

You folded clothing and put items neatly away, half paying attention to the noisy kid’s show on the tv, half paying attention to the time on the clock that told you Nari had only forty minutes before dance class and she hadn't yet had a bath or lunch.

Baths and lunches were a necessity for Nari, yet a luxury for you.
She was squeaky clean and well fed and you hastily tied up your wet hair from the quickest shower of your life into a messy, wet blob on top of your head and grabbed a random t shirt from the stack of clean clothes and pulled it over your head. The cut off crusts you shoved into your mouth as you made her sandwich would have to do for nutrition. You simply didn't have time for anything else.

“Mommy my tights are itchy,” she complained from the backseat as she raked her nails over the clinging fabric covering her thighs and you pulled into the parking lot of the dance studio.

The clock in your car told you that in some surprising personal record, you were only five minutes late.

Nari jumped and bounced her way up the driveway, through the front door and down the hallway to the dance room where the sounds of children’s laughter and movement filtered through the closed door.

Through the door she bolted, disappearing into a small crowd of kids.

You stood, just inside the room, lingering just long enough to catch the instructor before the lessons began. You needed to make a payment for the last month of classes and you had finally settled the matter with your ex. You were eternally grateful that the old woman who ran the studio was willing to work with you until you could secure the payment.

The door behind you burst open and you moved to the side to avoid being trampled by a giggling little girl who seemed to be Nari’s age. The children parted and you saw your daughter embrace the newcomer in excitement.

“Nina,” a man’s voice shouted from the open doorway, “What did I say about running in here?”

You turned to the sound and caught his profile as he rushed through the door. You recognized the desperate look in his eyes. The look of a nagging parent needing to be heard by their misbehaving child and he clenched his jaw down hard as he scanned the room for the child.

“Of course she isn't listening to me. Nari is here. She never listens when Nari is here to listen to instead. Why do I even--” He caught you standing at the doorway next to him and his eyes widened in surprise, but his mouth kept running, “--bother?” The last word came out as a whisper.

An adorable whisper dear lord, who is this handsome man and why were you staring? You stared at his face for a few seconds longer because why not, you were already trapped by wide eyes and those pouty lips and broad, chiseled arms with, sweet jesus, muscles? Who even had muscles any more? What?

“Hello,” he said quietly and you tried to remember why you came.

You nodded your head.

Was that the best you could do? A nod? He didn't ask a question, he said hello you dummy. Who even had muscles like this? Why did he have them and why didn't he wear a real shirt that covered things like y muscles?

You instantly felt disgruntled.

“Uhh, I’m Mr. Kim,” of course he was Mr. Kim. The cute ones were always Mr. Kim. You angled your eyes at his now outstretched hand, as if taking it for a handshake was somehow admitting just how y this man was.

“...the dance instructor, are you one of my parents?”

One of his? Were you his? He was the teacher here so yes, you must be his.

Oh no, he was still waiting for you to act like a normal person. You shot your hand out and grabbed his too hard and too fast and he seemed to flinch in surprise at your sudden movement. Maybe he was just jumpy but the small blush you saw on his pretty face, impossibly, made him look less like a y beast, and more like a cute little puppy.

“Yes, I’m Nari’s mom. I have to make a payment.” You held up your checkbook with a small smile and he gripped your hand and shook his own up and down slowly as his eyes seemed to travel around your face. And lower, what? Where was he looking? You stiffened when you were sure you saw his eyes down on your chest, was this man checking you out right now? In a room full of six year olds? With those muscles?

What should you do? This felt like a new situation to you, and you honestly were too stunned to move. Eventually the blatant staring he was doing right where your s sat changed and he narrowed his eyes to a squint and cocked his head to the right.

Okay that was enough.

Staring was one thing, but squinting? Who the hell did he think he was?

“Come into the office and you can make your payment.” He said with his eyes still no where near your face and when he looked up he probably noticed the very obvious heat that covered your face.

He was walking ahead of you and the noise of the children filled your head as you moved further into the room. There was a loud clapping of hands from the man walking in front of you and you watched in amazement as the mass of children disbursed into neat little obedient rows before your very eyes.

Even Nari, the least obedient of the children you were sure, fell in line when she heard that clap.

“Stretches!” He shouted at the group and they immediately bent down together, reaching for their toes.

You signed with a flourish on your payment, covering the next two months of classes as well as the balance due for last month and he hastily scribbled out a receipt for you. From the decor on the wall, you could see family pictures that you hadn't paid attention to before. The old woman who usually took your payment rushed you out quickly so you wouldn't be late for work and you hadn't a chance to actually see any of the pictures.

With him standing in front of you now, you could easily recognize the wide smile on the wall behind him. A picture, obviously years old with his smiling face, wide and beautiful, holding a small baby up for the camera to see. From where you stood it was clear to see that someone had been cut off of the other side of the photo, right after where the baby was shown. Someone with long black hair that made the picture now seem lopsided and off balance with her absence.

“Can I ask you why you are wearing my shirt?” Mr. Kim spoke up suddenly after you had tucked the receipt in between the pages of your checkbook and you looked down at the shirt you wore, confused as to why he would be saying such a thing when you had very obviously just gotten dressed at your own home with your own clothing fresh from the dryer at your new apartment building.

What the hell was this shirt? You looked up with wide eyes before you looked down again seeing very clearly that you wore a very soft, very worn in grey t shirt with what appeared to be a design for a 2008 Lifeguard Competition and the faded markings of where someone had written in a name with a big black sharpie. Barely legible from the years of washings you could make out the letters when you pulled the fabric away from your belly and stretched it out.

It was upside down, but it definitely read “Kim Jongin” and you looked back up into his questioning face with that feeling coursing through your head. You know that feeling...the one that feels like death.

“I--” your mouth was open and your lips were trying to speak but why were you wearing this shirt?

“Are you Kim Jongin?” You searched your memory of this morning. Rushing to get ready, reaching into the stack of freshly washed clothes you pulled out a t shirt and put it on without actually looking at it.

He nodded his head and the way he stood just behind the desk with his arms over his chest made his biceps pop and strain against the fabric of his shirt.

“I have no idea why I am wearing your shirt.” It was the truth. You didn't know how it got into your laundry and you definitely didn't know how it just so happened to be on your body right now without you even noticing for one second that you were wearing the very worn, very very comfy t shirt that belonged to this y man who was now chewing on his bottom lip as he looked through the glass window where rows of children stretched.

He moved from behind the desk and leaned through the doorway.

“Nari will you come in here for a minute please.” The children erupted in hoots and you watched as your daughter put her head down and made her way in between kids toward the office.

Her eyes went wide to see you standing at the desk and you saw the glance she made down at the shirt you wore.

Her wide eyes went to Mr. Kim’s eyes and you could feel your own heart pounding inside your chest and you watched the tall man as he slowly lowered himself down to her level and squatted on his heels.

You weren't sure what you were expecting as you held your breath, waiting for the man to begin speaking to your daughter.

“Nari, honey did you borrow something of mine again?” His voice was soft and he reached his hand out to hold on to hers as she bit down on her top lip and pouted her bottom lip out. She gave a tiny nod and looked into his eyes as he smiled a tiny bit.

“Remember what I said? You can borrow anything you like, but you should tell me about it so I don't worry that I lost it. Okay?” His hand rubbed lightly over her own and he reached out a hand to cup her face lightly. You saw the small tremble in her bottom lip and his smile widened.

“No no, you’re okay. Just tell me next time okay?” His eyebrows lifted with the promise and he held up his pinky finger for Nari to take. With a small sniffle she reeled in her emotions at being caught in her misdeed, and agreed with his promise.

You watched in awe. Your mouth might have even been open. There were no loud voices, no threats, no shouting, nothing scary that you might have heard from your ex husband in this situation, but somehow...this approach seemed to have a much greater impact on your daughter. She quickly turned and moved to the spot where the kids had their cubbies with various personal belongings and ran back to Mr. Kim holding a small toy in her hand.

She held it out to him and you recognized the pink frog that she often played with on your living room floor. You knew from the tantrums she threw when she accidentally left it behind that it was one of her favorite toys. The cheap thing must have cost a whole two cents to make, yet she had a strange attachment to things you would never quite understand.

“Here. You can borrow hoppy for tonight if you want.” She spoke in a sweet voice and Mr. Kim reached out with his mouth in an exaggerated surprised face as he picked up the tiny piece of plastic from her palm.

“Are you sure? What if I play with him all night?”

“He can take it. He's a good hopper.” And with that she was off, bolting through the children to take her place next to Nina and resume the stretching for the class.

He carefully deposited the pink frog onto the corner of the desk where you saw a cell phone and a set of keys sitting and you wondered if he would really take the toy home with him tonight.

“You can stay and watch if you want.” He paused at the doorway and looked back where you stood staring at that damn photograph on the wall. The one with the bright smiling face of Mr. Kim Jongin and the tiny baby girl in a picture frame and the missing other half that, the closer you looked, you noticed the photo had the distinct markings of being torn out, rather than neatly cut with scissors.

When you turned away from the image that seemed to speak volumes, while filling your curiosity with countless questions alike, he was gone.

“Okay free dance time!” He shouted over the children's heads and they cheered as he trotted over to a stereo in the corner to turn on some music.

A familiar funky upbeat soul song (1) played over the speakers in the ceiling. A song you hadn't heard in years but always brought a smile to your face. Perhaps it was the sight before you that brought the smile. The children began moving their bodies, some very wildly like Nari swung their limbs and moved all over the place, others grabbed hands with classmates and danced to the beat together.

“To the beat! Listen to the song while you dance or I won't do it.” Mr. Kim shouted over the song. Some kids who had been moving too fast out of sync with the beat of the song looked up into his face and slowed their bodies, eventually nodding heads or kicking their legs as they found their own rhythms. The proud mother in you watched as Nari danced some unconventional jig exactly on beat to the song and despite the strange kicks and punches, she had a good sense of the beat.

Perhaps she got it from you. You nodded your head to the song as the children wound down some of their excitement of being free to express themselves.

The song ended and immediately after the track a new one started and the children all stopped in their tracks and turned to face Mr. Kim. You noticed they seemed to make a big circle as they watched him and you watched too, curious as to what they were waiting for.

“Okay okay, my turn.” He said with a wide smile that you caught just the edges of and something about the man who stood in the center of the room seemed to shift.

Their faces were glued to him and you didn't blame them. He changed his posture and lifted one hand to his hip, the other hand rose to snap to the beat of the song (2) that played and nearly instantly the change you saw in his countenance took over entirely. The song started with only a beat, and he felt it in his bones. You saw his head nod, his shoulders shift and sway and soon the rest of his body followed.

This...this person wasn't adorable blushing sweet Mr. Kim, not at all. His hips moved freely, his legs danced expertly, carrying his body along in smooth motions. Was his spine even connected to his body? How in the world was it possible for so much fluid movement from a real human? You stared, again probably with your mouth open. With each new beat of the song, you could practically feel in your chest the movements of his body, his arms, the expressions on his face that told a story, the way he slowed and closed his eyes and the fast spins as he moved through the room, eventually grabbing the hands of a few of the children to bring them along through the musical journey.

Your eyes widened further and you closed your open mouth when you realized that he was too close to where you stood like a statue at the back of the room, clutching your checkbook and your car keys against your chest for dear life.

His hands released the child he had in his grip and his eyes zeroed in on yours for exactly one second before you felt his warm hand grab yours and you yelped out in genuine shock.

You heard your car keys hit the floor behind you and your legs were moving whether you wanted them to or not.