Lost

by Nadia Simonenko

  “Oh come on,” I mutter. “You called me five times, and now you don’t answer?”

  The phone clicks as he finally picks up, and I suddenly don’t know what to say.

  “Hi there!” says Owen across the line. His voice is perky and happy today, and I feel warm just from hearing it. “What’s up?”

  “Um... well, just returning your call,” I stammer. Where did all my words go? Why do I always lose them when I’m talking to him? It’s just not fair. I have so many things I’ve love to tell him, and I can never get them out!

  “Oh, right!” he says. “I wanted to see if you’re up for going out tonight. The grad-student union is open late on Fridays, and they’ve got something pretty neat going on this week.”

  “Sure! I’d love to!” I answer excitedly, my heart doing a joyful somersault inside me. “What’s going on over there?”

  “It’s swing dance night!”

  My heart trips over itself and falls flat on its face.

  “I... I can’t dance,” I stammer.

  “Neither can I,” answers Owen. “They do lessons for free, though. If it makes you more comfortable, you could invite Tina and Craig.”

  I can’t bring myself to say anything. I’m nervously imagining myself standing out on the floor in front of everyone. They’re all watching me as I stumble around with Owen. I know he said he can’t dance either, but in my mind, he’s a graceful, professional dancer and I’m a clumsy klutz.

  “Please?” begs Owen after a long silence, and I feel my resistance crumble.

  I can’t say no to him—not when he asks me like that—and I think that maybe, deep down inside, I really want to say yes. I’m nervous and scared, but I’d be with him! We’d be dancing together, and even if I’m terrible at it, the idea sounds wonderful.

  “He went snowboarding with you even though he was bad at it,” my brain pipes up to remind me, and that settles it. If he can be brave, so can I.

  “Alright, I’ll go,” I finally answer. I hope I don’t regret it later tonight.

  “Great! I’ll meet you there at eight?”

  “Works for me!” I say, and then I hang up and go to check on my incompetent freshman underling once more before I head home. I haven’t heard anything break in at least five minutes, so she must be getting into trouble.

  ––––––––

  “Hey Tina! Are you home?” I call out as I open the front door. The apartment smells like buttered popcorn.

  “Sssh! We’re watching a movie!” hisses Dinah from the couch. She and Lacey are sitting with an enormous bowl of popcorn, a tub of ice cream and a box of tissues. I groan as Leonardo DiCaprio’s pointy-chinned face fills the screen. They’re watching Titanic for probably the tenth time this year.

  “You know he’s almost forty, right?” I ask as I take off my shoes and coat.

  “That’s what the tissues are for!” answers Lacey, and she sticks out her tongue at me. I burst out laughing, and then I run upstairs to Tina’s room as Dinah shushes me again.

  “Hey Tina? You in there?” I ask, peeping in around the half-open door.

  “Well hello there, lady-face!” she answers, tossing down her textbook and hopping off the bed. It should be illegal for any bedroom to be as pink as hers is.

  “Owen invited me out to swing dance at the grad union tonight. Do you want to come along?”

  Her face lights up at my question, and she hops up and down excitedly.

  “Can I bring Craig?”

  “No,” I answer, rolling my eyes. “You have to sit in the corner and be miserable the whole night. Of course he can come!”

  “Then I’m totally in!” she answers with a wide, excited grin. “I can’t believe it! You’re going out dancing!”

  She practically leaps around the room in unadulterated glee before suddenly zipping back to me from across the bedroom with a serious look on her face.

  “Okay Maria – what are you wearing?”

  I groan and shake my head. Not this again.

  “I’m not wearing a...”

  “Yes you are, Maria,” she hisses, and I shut up instantly at the intensity of her retort. She looks ready to strangle me.

  “Dates are one thing,” she tells me, her voice low and determined, “but dancing has rules. This is swing dance, and you have to wear a dress!”

  “Then I won’t go,” I answer flatly.

  “Maria!”

  “I don’t want to go back to that! I don’t want people looking at me like I’m... like I’m a piece of meat,” I stammer. She stares at me as if I’m insane.

  “Tina,” I whisper, “the last time I wore a skirt, my brother’s best friend raped me. I still have just a little bit of baggage around the whole thing. You know that.”

  “You don’t want anyone to think you’re pretty?” asks Tina calmly.

  I shake my head.

  “Not even Owen?”

  I... well, shit. I do want that. Now what? I look silently down at my socks, not sure what to say next.

  “Come on, Maria,” pushes Tina. “You’re going to show up in jeans and a sweatshirt, and Owen’s going to be dressed up all nice and look really handsome. How will he feel then? He’ll feel like you didn’t care about him.”

  “That’s really mean, Tina,” I scold her. I hate it when people play guilt games. They always work on me and I don’t know how to defend myself against them.

  “It’s true, though!”

  “I don’t even own a dress,” I counter. That should get her to shut up.

  “Then get your coat on, because we’re going shopping,” exclaims Tina triumphantly, and she runs to the closet and starts hunting for her boots.

  “Alright... I’ll wear a dress,” I surrender. “I’m holding you responsible if I have a panic attack, though.”

  “I’ll take that risk if you will,” says Tina seriously, and then she shoots me a wide, manic smile and races downstairs to grab her keys.

  Friday, March 8 – 5:30 PM

  Owen

  I groan in embarrassment for probably the tenth time this hour and put my head down on the table again. I’m probably bothering everyone else in the library right now, but I really don’t care.

  I can’t believe I asked Maria to go dancing with me. I don’t know how to dance! How am I supposed to dance with a broken hand, anyway?

  “What a stupid idea,” I whisper, looking down at my cast. It used to be white, but now it’s covered by a rainbow of colorful, childish doodles—a product of boring classes with too many markers. I’m not much of an artist left-handed.

  Maybe I can back out of it. I could say I’m too busy. I’m sure Professor Meador has some extra papers that I could grade. It’s cold season—Maria wouldn’t question me suddenly getting sick, right?

  The idea of chickening out tugs at me and whispers for me to give in to it. I could skip all the embarrassment of stumbling around the dance floor like an idiot if I call her back and cancel the whole thing.

  “No,” I whisper to myself. “I don’t want to back out.”

  I really don’t. I don’t know why I want to go dancing with her, but I do. The second I read the weekend activities and tonight’s event schedule, I knew I had to invite her.

  I can do this. It’ll be fun.

  My phone rings in my pocket, and I grab it and head out to the lobby to answer the call. It’s Tina.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I ask, already regretting coming out into the ice-cold lobby. Why do they never turn on the heat out here? It can’t be more than fifty degrees!

  “Hi Owen!” she says, her voice as bubbly as ever. “I just wanted to let you know that if you don’t dress up nicely tonight, I’m going to rip your balls off. Okay?”

  “Holy shit!” I exclaim in shock. “Where the hell did that come from?”

  Maria warned me that Tina can be a bit vulgar, but I assumed she meant that the tiny, pink-loving girl swore a lot. It never once crossed my mind that she might one day threaten my manhood.
>
  “Seriously. Dress nice. Really nice,” she tells me. Her voice is soft, straightforward, and pleasant as if she was talking about the weather instead of about hurting me. “I’m a dead girl if you don’t, and then you’ll wish you were dead when I’m done with you.”

  “Why? What are you talking about?”

  “Just do it and trust me, okay?” she snaps at me, and then she hangs up before I can get in another word.

  I sigh and shake my head. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m kind of attached to my anatomy. I need to get home and change in a hurry.

  ––––––––

  “Little overdressed, don’t you think?” asks the bartender, grinning at me from behind the counter.

  “Oh shut up,” I hiss.

  Here I am at the grad union—the stupidly named Big Red Barn—in a sport jacket and slacks, and I’m the only person in the building tonight who isn’t wearing jeans and a tee shirt. I’ve had more than my fair share of stares already and it’s not even eight o’clock yet.

  “Hey Owen!” calls out Tina from behind me, cheerful and high-pitched as always, and I turn and hop down from my barstool as she cuts through the packed crowd with Craig at her side.

  She’s wearing a knee-length, sky blue dress with a shiny pink belt, and Craig is just as overdressed as I am. The look on his face tells me all I need to know: everything that happens tonight is totally Tina’s fault. At least I know he’ll have my back later when I kill her.

  Tina grins, winks at me, and then quickly grabs Craig and steps to the side. It’s all I can do not to let my jaw drop as I catch sight of Maria following behind her.

  Her long black hair is hanging free, and she’s wearing a stunning, calf-length black dress with wide straps that cover her shoulders up to the curve of her neck but leave her arms bare. Her skirt billows out just slightly from her waist, and some kind of white, lacy fabric barely peeks out from beneath. What’s that stuff called, anyway? A slip? A petticoat? I have no idea, but whatever it is, she looks gorgeous. I’m completely blown away.

  She follows behind Tina and glances nervously at the casually attired crowd around her. She shoots her diminutive friend a glare, and just as I think that she’s about to chew her for the cruel dress-up prank, Tina nudges her and points at me.

  The way Maria’s eyes light up when she sees me makes the whole night worth it.

  “Hi Maria!” I call out to her, and I race up to her and hug her tightly.

  She hugs me back and just when I think the night can’t get any better, she kisses me softly on the cheek.

  “You look really nice,” she whispers in my ear, and I feel myself blush. Her eyes are glowing with happiness tonight, and that—more than the dress, more than anything—is what makes her so beautiful to me. I love seeing her happy.

  “Thanks. You look... just amazing,” I stammer, and now it’s her turn to blush. I don’t have words for how beautiful she looks. I don’t know where all my words went, but I don’t have them anymore.

  “Hey! You grad students get to have a bar on campus?” cries out Tina in awe. She grabs Craig’s hand and drags him behind her to the bar.

  “Oh that poor bartender,” I groan, and Maria giggles. I wonder if she knows how beautiful her laughter sounds. It’s light and musical, and it puts me at ease no matter how awkward I feel.

  “Let me guess... Tina made you dress up?” she asks, and I nod and roll my eyes.

  “She threatened to do terrible things to me if I didn’t,” I answer, offering her my hand.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  A shiver runs through me as she takes my hand and wraps her fingers around mine, and we join the others at the bar.

  “Can you do Cosmos?” Tina asks the bartender excitedly as we sit down next to her.

  “Of course I can,” snips the bartender as if he’s offended that she even had to ask.

  “Oh kickass!” she shouts happily, and she orders two.

  Maria and I look at each other in bemusement. Tina’s way too excited about this.

  “Okay... a pair of Cosmos,” he deadpans, and then he turns to Maria and me. “What about you two?”

  “Can you do anything with pomegranates?” asks Maria, and she turns and smiles warmly at me.

  I’m completely speechless and as soon as she turns back to the bartender, I pull up my sleeve and pinch myself. I’m still awake.

  “Pomegranate Cosmo work for you?” he asks, and he glares at Tina out of the corner of his eye.

  “Sure, sounds great to me!” answers Maria.

  “That Cosmo thing really bugged you, huh?” I ask, and the bartender rolls his eyes at me before going back to mix our drinks.

  “Wow, what a stuck-up prick,” I whisper to Maria, and she grins and nods in agreement.

  Grumpy the Bartender returns with our drinks a few minutes later. I turn to Maria and raise mine to offer a toast.

  “To trying new things.”

  “To getting outside our shells,” she answers, and I know exactly what she means.

  I can drink to that.

  ––––––––

  I’m feeling a little wobbly as I head out onto the dance floor with Maria by my side, but the booze is the only thing keeping me from running for the door right now. I feel like everyone’s watching me and waiting to laugh when I fall on my face. I should know better than that by now, but I’m still nervous and embarrassed as the instructor tries to show me what to do.

  “Okay, you take her hand like this,” he says, placing Maria’s left hand in mine as we face each other, “and then put your right hand on her shoulder blade.”

  She smiles at me and squeezes my hand gently as the dance instructor forces us into the right positions, and then he starts to walk us through the steps.

  “Left, tap, left... right, tap, right... back, rock,” he calls out, keeping the beat for us as we shuffle awkwardly back and forth on the dance floor. I’m staring down at Maria’s black flats the whole time and still somehow keep stepping on her toes.

  “Alright, you’re getting there,” lies the instructor, and he stops us again.

  “Next thing you two need to learn is a basic spin,” he tells us. Maria smiles and I can’t tell if she’s nervous or excited. Maybe she’s both.

  “It’s the same timing, but now it’s your turn to get some special steps in,” he tells Maria as he walks around us in a circle. “This young gentleman is going to push you out under his left arm with his right hand, and...”

  He trails off as he sees the cast on my arm.

  “Dude, your hand’s broken,” he points out, as if I didn’t already know.

  “Oh my god!” I exclaim dramatically. “When did that happen? I never noticed the cast!”

  Maria giggles at my stupid act, and I feel like I’m the king of the world, broken hand or not. The instructor rolls his eyes at me.

  “All right, missy,” groans the instructor as he turns to Maria. “You’re going to have to grab his hand during some of the spins, so just make sure you get the tips of his fingers, okay? Stay away from the thumb.”

  “Got it,” she answers, nodding intensely as she takes in his words.

  A jaunty song blares over the speaker system, and the instructor grins at me and flashes a thumbs-up.

  “Okay, get ready, you two! And, one... two... go!”

  The only way I can keep the beat for even a moment is to count out loud, and when I finally look up from my feet, I’m relieved to see Maria doing the exact same thing.

  “One and two,” I mutter. “Three and four... back, rock...”

  Ten minutes pass as we go back and forth in place, and then suddenly it all clicks for me. It’s like when Maria showed me how to snowboard properly—everything just makes sense now.

  Now it’s time for some fun.

  Tina floats past us, completely ignoring the rule about the guy leading the way, and she sticks out her tongue at us as she pushes Craig around the dance floor. Maria and I return the g
esture in unison and then burst out laughing.

  “You hanging in there?” I ask, and she nods back excitedly. Her smile is radiant tonight.

  “Okay, then hang in there a little more!” I call out, and I send her out for a spin.

  Maria laughs as she ducks under my arm and spins out away from me. Her dress billows up around her and shows off her long, incredibly sexy legs. It’s all I can do not to stop dead in my tracks and stare. God, it’s hard enough to keep my hands off of her without seeing that!

  Excitement and longing flicker to life inside me as I reel her back in—her eyes glittering with happiness—and then send her out for one more gratuitous spin. My mind is filled with wonderfully dirty thoughts now, and it’s all I can do not to pull her back in, put my arms around her and kiss her right this second.

  Maria gets more confident as song after song flies by, and I do my best to keep up with her. As I pull her back in from a spin, she ducks under my arm and raises hers to push me out for a spin of my own. She’s picking up moves from other couples on the floor now—teaching me how to lead her into them—and I simply can’t get enough of her.

  I’m the worst dancer in the world—and I’m sure Maria’s toes would agree with me on that—but crappy, clumsy dancer or not, I’m with the girl of my dreams and I’ve never been happier in my life.

  Friday, March 8 – 10:45 PM

  Maria

  Never in my entire life do I remember being this happy.

  I’m not sure exactly when Tina and Craig left, but I know that Owen and I stayed out dancing long after they departed. Everything was amazing tonight, from the moment I first took Owen’s hand on the dance floor, to the first spin, to when I finally, reluctantly had to stop from exhaustion.

  I’m a sweaty mess now, but I feel like laughing in delight with every breath I take. I can’t stop smiling as Owen and I walk down the hill toward our apartment complex, and it’s as if I’m walking on air. My legs are so tired from dancing, but I feel like I could still find enough energy to jump for joy.

  What an unbelievable night!