My Million-Dollar Donkey Read Free Page A

joining us at movies or just hanging out at home. I never made plans for the family that didn’t include her, always paying the cost of the ticket or the experience for her so nothing would stand in the way of her joining us.
    Life had been satisfactory for everyone except Mark and me. Our customers adored us and appreciated the quality of our school. Our employees enjoyed good, steady jobs doing the work they enjoyed. Our kids felt safe and loved and their needs were provided for. Our families were involved in our lives. We had pre-paid college plans, a car for each member of the family who drove, and we made enough to take humble vacations now and again.
    The problem was, as parents and owners, we were burned out, tired, and our marriage was stressed to the point of breaking. Selfishly, we wanted to change things to put our dreams and wishes at the forefront of choices, because deep down, we believed everyone’s life was easier than ours. Everyone’s. And we were envious.
    “Maybe what we need to do is to realign our priorities, not change our lives completely,” I said, feeling guilty about everyone’s hysterical disappointment regarding our decision.
    “Realigning my priorities is why I’m ready for a new life,” Mark said.
    “We could stop micro-managing and travel as we always said we someday would. Maybe we should buy a different house, a bigger one; with a workshop so you can make art in your free time. We can buy a boat and spend some weekends involved in recreation that isn’t dance related. God, I’d love that. I’ll get my master’s degree and write something noteworthy. You can go to school to study interior design. You’ve always said you wanted to have a career in design.”
    I was straying from our initial enthusiasm and he wasn’t pleased, but I kept on. “I’m thinking we may be premature to retire while we still have a family to raise. Not like we can run off to Europe or live in the wilderness and do whatever we want while we still have kids who must attend school.”
    “The kids deserve a better life and they won’t get one here,” Mark said. “I hate Florida. It’s too hot and flat and there’s nothing here but malls and restaurants. Mostly, I hate the studio. I hate the people. I hate the dance profession.” Mark said. “And my body can’t take this work anymore. You know how bad my hips are.”
    Mark had been diagnosed with arthritis and his hips had caused him discomfort for years. Despite my frequent suggestions that he get hip replacements so we could both live a full and more active life, he refused. He didn’t believe in formal medicine, or so he said, and frankly, he wasn’t all that bothered that his physical limitations were the death knell to my yearning for active recreation.
    “If nothing else, you have to be proud of all we’ve accomplished over the years. We’ve created a fantastic school. We’ve trained great dancers and built an amazing facility. We’ve changed young people’s lives and contributed a great deal to our community.”
    He pulled away from me, the distance a reminder that if I didn’t give him what he wanted, I’d be treated to a painful dose of alienation, Mark’s usual weapon of choice. “Dance was never my thing the way it has been yours. I just went along for the ride, because I wanted to marry you.”
    In the beginning, Mark had been obsessed with dance, so his comment now felt like nothing but an excuse to get what he wanted. I knew he wasn’t happy. Mark was the kind of man who would quickly propose romantic and exciting ideas, regardless of the fact that they were totally impractical for a couple with kids and loans nailing their feet to the floor. I took on the role of the responsible one, always working ceaselessly hard - not because I was ambitious, but to alleviate his need to shoulder the full burden of raising a family. From the beginning, I always wanted to give him everything he ever wanted; I just wasn’t in a position