Boyfriend Shopping: Shopping for My BoyfriendMy Only WishAll I Want for Christmas Is You

by Earl Sewell

  As I look around, I see a flat-screen TV, a Wi-Fi connection and even docking stations with speakers for our iPods.

  “Seven dollars for a bottle of water?” Jade exclaims, rummaging through the fully stocked minibar.

  “Are you freaking serious?” I ask.

  “As a bad hair weave. And this itty-bitty bag of chips...it’s four dollars.”

  “Unbelievable! Well, just don’t eat anything in there,” I warn her. “Otherwise, we’ll owe the hotel tons of money by the time we’re ready to check out.”

  “As if all the money we paid to come on this trip wasn’t enough,” Jade grumbles, along with her stomach. I don’t blame her. I’m practically starving, too, and so ready for dinner. It’s a little after 3:00 p.m., so luckily we don’t have much time to kill before we head out.

  “Hey, Jade, come here,” I say, looking out of a large window that gives us a stellar view of Lincoln Center. “Get a look at this!”

  Jade joins me at the window and stares at the performing-arts center with admiration. It is so vast that it looks like it should have its own zip code. There are several buildings spread out on several acres, including The Juilliard School.

  “I had no idea it was so humongous,” Jade says dreamily.

  “Me, either, and I can’t believe we’re really here,” I say in a daze. “It feels like I’m sleepwalking right now.”

  “I know, but if we get into Juilliard, can you imagine what it’s going to be like to actually live here?” Jade, Olivia and I all met freshman year, and the one thing that instantly bonded us was our mutual goal of getting accepted to Juilliard. It’s the most competitive and highly esteemed college-level dance program in the entire world, so everybody wants in. Now here we are, three years later, so close to our dream we can literally see it and touch it.

  “It’s when we get accepted to Juilliard,” I correct Jade. “And when we do, we’re gonna turn this city inside out and upside down.”

  “Damn right!” Jade gives me an enthusiastic fist bump. “Watch out, New York City! Here we come!”

  * * *

  Jade and I are sitting at the vanity table in our hotel room, putting the finishing touches on our hair and makeup. We’re already dressed for the evening in our fanciest dresses. The one I’m wearing is a little black number, with gold accessories and funky heels. Jade is wearing a strapless navy blue dress, with a pair of killer patterned tights.

  A quick glance at my watch tells me we have only twenty minutes to go before we have to meet the others down in the lobby. I’m rimming my eyes with black eyeliner when Jade blindsides me with “So, Bree, what do you think about Jordan now?”

  “Wow, Jade.” I chuckle. “That was so random.”

  “Well, I’m just asking because the way you two were carrying on during the bus ride up here, I would have sworn you guys were a couple if I didn’t know better.”

  What do you think about Jordan now?

  With my kohl pencil in midair, I think Jade’s question over for a moment and then come to a shocking realization. “I like him,” I say. “He’s cool....”

  Jade pauses from taking Velcro rollers out of her hair and looks at me with misty eyes. “Aww, Bree, Bree! I knew you two were perfect for each other. I just knew it!”

  I give Jade a confused look. From the way she’s acting, you would think I’d just said that I want to marry Jordan.

  “Whoa, hold your horses, kemo sabe,” I say. “When I said I like Jordan, it just means I can tolerate him now. Not that I want him to be my next boyfriend.”

  Jade looks deflated, like I just let all the air out of her balloon. “Well, at least you guys are making progress. And I happen to know that he really, really likes you.”

  I look at Jade through the mirror. “How do you know that?”

  “Because Jordan and Tristan are sharing a room together, and Tristan just texted me and said that Jordan has been talking about you nonstop since they checked in their room.”

  Looking in the mirror, I can see myself blushing, which is so weird. How is it possible that my feelings for Jordan Patterson have gone from “loathing” to “like” in such a short amount of time? I can’t say for sure what’s going on here, but the universe certainly does work in mysterious ways.

  twelve

  We have dinner at a nice restaurant inside the hotel. All forty-six of us are seated at a large banquet table covered with a white tablecloth. There are place cards on the table with our names written on them in cursive. For some reason, Ms. Duncan arranged it so that all the girls are sitting on one side of the table and all of the boys are seated on the other side. I’m at the very end of the table with Kelly Baker to my right, and Jordan is seated directly across from me.

  My mouth waters as I look over the menu that consists of things like scallop ravioli, peppered tuna steak frites, blue-crab chowder and other dishes that sound as yummy as they are expensive.

  “So what did you order?” Jordan asks me as the waiters take our menus away.

  “The lobster roll and roasted baby-beet salad,” I tell him, spreading my cloth napkin across my lap.

  “Oh, that’s a great choice. You’re gonna love it.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “So you’ve been here before?”

  “A couple of times,” he says casually as if it’s no big deal. “When I attended the Fame school, my friends and I would come down to this part of town a few times a month to attend shows and just hang out.”

  There he goes with that bragging again! I think, only this time I finally ask the obvious.

  “Why did you leave LaGuardia?”

  “My parents got divorced, and since my mom is originally from Buffalo, that’s where we ended up.”

  “You said that like you don’t really care for Buffalo all that much,” I say. “Do you?”

  “I was born and raised in New York City, so this is definitely where my heart is, but Buffalo’s cool....”

  “So which borough are you from?” I ask.

  “Straight outta Brooklyn.” He beams with pride.

  Maybe it’s because of the delicate lighting in the restaurant, but when Jordan smiles I can see past the smart-aleck, know-it-all facade and tell there is someone good and kind inside. It’s almost as if blinders have been taken off of my eyes, and I am truly seeing him for the first time.

  * * *

  As we’re eating and enjoying our food, everyone at our table is all abuzz about the chef being someone who won a recent season of Top Chef. I can’t say for sure if this is fact or fiction, but all I know is that the food is fantastic, and I am a little sad that we aren’t able to take our leftovers with us. Ms. Duncan says that since we’re headed to the ballet after this, it would be rude to reek the place up with the smell of food, no matter how good it is.

  After dinner, our group takes a short walk over to Lincoln Center to finally see what we’ve all been waiting for, which is the New York City Ballet Company’s opening performance of The Nutcracker. As we’re walking, it feels like the cold November air is pulsating with energy. I take in all the activity around me, totally enchanted. I was captivated by the people, tall buildings and glittering neon signs.

  Inside Lincoln Center, I can hardly contain my excitement when ushers guide us to our seats in the orchestra section. Once again, I had hoped to sit with Olivia and Jade, but since we have to sit according to the seat numbers on our ticket stubs, we can’t just sit anywhere we want. Once we’re all settled, I realize that I am sandwiched in between Ms. Duncan and Jordan. Olivia, who sits a couple of rows in front of me, looks over her shoulder, gives me a sympathetic look and mouths, “Sucks for you!”

  I shrug and mouth back, “It’s okay.”

  For a few weeks, I have considered Jordan and Ms. Duncan to be my two least favorite people in the whole world,
but for some odd reason, it doesn’t bother me nearly as much today as it would have just a week ago.

  The houselights go down quickly, and— Boom! They don’t waste any time flooding the stage with a dozen beautiful ballerinas, who are dancing and twirling to music scored by Russian composer Peter Tchaikovsky. I am completely blown away by the live orchestra. And the dancing, the sets, lighting and costumes are all utterly incredible. In fact, every aspect of the ballet is so amazingly on point that I can’t help but to allow myself to be swept up into the magical fantasy taking place onstage. It is a rousing, high-energy show, with about 100 dancers, giant toys that come to life and a Christmas tree that grows up to fifty feet right before your very eyes. I look around me at my classmates’ faces and can see that they are as fascinated by the ballet as I am.

  Watching this performance, I feel a sense of pride in being a dancer. If I wasn’t one already, I would run right out and sign up for dance classes.

  Jordan nudges my knee when the Snow Queen and King begin to dance for Clara and the Prince. I pay very close attention to the female dancer’s movements, the way she pirouettes and dances on pointe so effortlessly. And especially the way she pushes off the floor with the balls of her feet so that the Snow King is able to lift her as if she were light as a feather.

  It is six minutes of pure perfection, and to know that I have to do the exact same dance a few weeks from now excites and terrifies me at the same time.

  thirteen

  This is our first day back in the dance studio after our trip, and Ms. Duncan surprises us with the news that we’ll be doing a dress rehearsal today. Everybody is still on a high from our trip, but this news causes even more excitement. Dress rehearsals are different from the norm because that’s when we put on the actual costumes we’ll be wearing onstage and then perform the ballet from beginning to end. Right now, I’m wearing my Snow Queen outfit, which consists of a white bodice embellished with hundreds of shiny silver crystals, sheer white tights and a large white tutu.

  On the bus trip headed back home from NYC, Jordan and I sat together and discussed what we needed to do to perfect our piece to the level we had seen at Lincoln Center. We took lots of notes and then concluded that passion and precision should be the cornerstones of our performance. Today is a chance to put everything we’ve learned so far into action.

  Jordan walks into the dance studio looking regal in his all-white Snow King costume. Built more like an athlete than a dancer, Jordan has broad shoulders, nice strong arms, and his abdominal muscles are shredded into a very well-defined eight-pack.

  “Hey, B, you ready to do this?” he asks with all seriousness.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, giving him a fist bump.

  After The Nutcracker performance at Lincoln Center, Ms. Duncan took us backstage and introduced us to the cast. Everyone was supercool, and we took lots of pictures with them. The highlight for me, though, was when Ms. Duncan personally introduced me to Megan Anderson. Megan is legendary in the world of dance. She is young, but her résumé is long and impressive. Plus she had just smashed the role of Snow Queen like nobody’s business.

  “Megan, I want you to meet Bree Calloway,” Ms. Duncan said. “This is the young lady I’ve been telling you about.”

  “Well, hello, Bree, so nice to meet you!” Megan smiled brightly and gave me a warm hug. “Audra tells me that you are a budding little superstar, and that we should all keep our eyes on you.”

  I was flabbergasted. Ms. Duncan had actually said something nice about me to none other than Megan Anderson?

  Okay, I can die now! I thought. Megan was gracious enough to spend several minutes giving me pointers on doing the role. I hung on her every word and took mental notes. Megan Anderson’s last words to me were “Break a leg and do me proud!” And I promised her that I would.

  * * *

  Now it’s time to see if I really have the goods. Jordan and I stand together on the sidelines, watching Olivia, Jade, Tristan and our other cast mates. While we’re waiting, I stretch to stay loose and limber, and I feel anxious like an athlete who can’t wait to get in the game. When the time finally comes, all eyes are on me as I strike a pose and pirouette my way out to the middle of the floor. As I’m dancing, I remember all of Megan Anderson’s pointers and every correction that Ms. Duncan ever gave me. Jordan joins me. He looks at me lovingly and holds me carefully around the waist as I execute a flurry of piqué en arabesques.

  When I look in his eyes, a current that feels sort of like electricity runs through my entire body. I’m guessing it may be the chemistry between us that everyone has been saying was there all along, because I suddenly feel more in sync with Jordan than ever before, and I’m finally comfortable enough to totally trust him with my body. As a result, all the moves that I had previously struggled with come out right for the first time ever, and it’s almost effortless. When we’re finished, Jordan and I move off to the side to let the other characters play their parts.

  “You were pretty good,” he tells me, taking a swig of water.

  “Thanks,” I say breathlessly. “And you weren’t so bad yourself.”

  Ms. Duncan comes over and pulls me aside. “Bree, that is exactly what I’ve been trying to pull out of you for the last few weeks,” she says tearfully. “If you think I’ve been hard on you, it’s only because I knew you were capable of giving so much more to this role, and now you’ve finally reached the pinnacle of what this character is all about.... Good job!”

  “Thank you,” I say, a bit surprised at how nice she’s been to me lately. Talk about a one-eighty.

  Ms. Duncan pats me on the back and returns to scrutinizing the rehearsal. I grab a towel out of my dance bag to dry off.

  “You have another one of those?” Jordan asks me.

  I always keep at least three clean towels at all times, so I throw him one. Jordan dries himself off, but when I gesture for him to give the towel back to me, he holds on to it. “Let me keep it for now, and I’ll give it back to you on Saturday when we hang out.”

  “We’re hanging out on Saturday, as in a date?”

  Jordan shrugs. “If you don’t mind....”

  I look at him closely and realize that his whole vibe is different to me now, and that’s a good thing. My first impulse says, Just go with it! So I decide to trust it.

  “Sounds like a plan.... Saturday it is.” I smile, thinking that it’s funny how we don’t appreciate some things until they’re gone, and then there are other times when we don’t know what we want until it sneaks up and catches us by surprise.

  fourteen

  “Hang all the mistletoe. I’m gonna get to know you better...”

  I’m singing along to the radio as I drive back home from the grocery store. I had to pick up a few things because Jordan is coming over to my house this evening to bake cookies, watch movies and chill. We aren’t boyfriend-girlfriend just yet, but I can say that we have come to a point where we appreciate each other’s company.

  As I’m driving, I’m also checking out the festive decorations and Christmas displays that I pass on the street. Buffalo is such a beautiful place during the holiday season. When it snows, which it did the other day, everything looks like something straight off the front of a Christmas card. I love seeing snowmen in people’s yards, the way icicles sparkle on the tree branches and the beautiful glittering lights that brighten up every house I drive by.

  Speaking of Christmas lights. Every year, my parents go completely nuts when it comes to decorating the house. They always do it big from top to bottom, inside and out. One of our many family traditions is to drive around checking out the Christmas displays in different neighborhoods. Now it has gotten to the point where strangers drive by our house to see our Christmas decorations.

  My mom kicks off the season by dragging dozens of bins out of storage.
When she’s finished hours later, the interior of our house is transformed into a magical wonderland filled with all types of Christmassy things, like lights, wreaths, poinsettias, centerpieces, stockings, throw pillows and even paper towels, dishcloths and a teapot shaped like a snowman.

  While Mom goes crazy decorating the inside of the house, Dad joins in on the fun when it comes to decorating the outside. Dad loves to do this, not only for our enjoyment, but also because he has a reputation to protect. For the past three years, my father has been in direct competition with our neighbor Mr. Parker, who happens to be retired and has nothing better to do than think of ways to one-up our outdoor Christmas display. At least that’s what my dad says.

  The first thing my father does every year is set the life-size nativity scene in the yard, along with the giant candy canes, blow-up Santa Claus, reindeer and Frosty the Snowman. Afterward, he spends the whole day hanging thousands of lights on the house, around the trees and hedges and down the driveway. This isn’t necessarily a good thing, because my dad refuses to wear his glasses while he’s doing it because he thinks they make him look old. As a result of not being able to see well, Dad gets clumsy and he always has an accident or some sort of mishap every year. One year the ladder fell while he was on the roof and he was stuck up there in cold temperatures for hours before anyone thought to look for him. The year after that, he slipped on the front steps and threw his back out, and just last year, he accidentally electrocuted himself and had to be rushed to the emergency room.

  When I get home from the grocery store, my parents are arguing about this very topic.

  It’s a freezing-cold Saturday afternoon, but for some reason Dad is itching to get outside and do his thing.

  “Earl, why don’t you save yourself the trouble and just hire a team of professionals to do the dirty work for you?” Mom asks.