by Maya William
When the chorus begins, the tempo increases, together with the difficulty of the choreography. Luckily, most of what we’ve been doing so far is ballet steps, so I’m in my comfort zone.
The romantic part comes easy. I find a lot of inspiration from Samuel and his sexy smile, both of which sometimes becomes a distraction, making me almost miss a step or two.
My honeymoon phase ends; the smiles, the touches, and the couple’s moves reducing. Now, most of the choreography is contemporary.
At the part of the story where the separation happens, the tempo of the music increases significantly, which makes it challenging to do all the steps while making sure I complete my lines while also maintaining the strength to hold each position before quickly moving to the next one.
Each step is a key one. Otherwise, I’ll lose step with Samuel. Our jumps need to be the same height, or our legs need to reach the same angle while the timing of the position being held needs to match.
Maria always reminds us that we won’t have any mirrors during a performance, so we should let the music be our guide. I let it lead me in hitting each step.
When the music reaches the lingering repetitive tempo while I face Samuel, his nod tells me we finished at the same time. His smile brightens my heart, giving me the extra push I need for the following part.
The subtle movement of his hand signals that we need to start swaying our shoulders to the music, following the tempo of the song. We circle each other as we near one another, never taking our eyes off each other, as if daring the other to be the first to look away.
With the beat of the drums, he pulls me closer, lifting me, not allowing me an opportunity to escape. I put up zero resistance, since this is what I want: a chance to be back together with him once again.
The boldness of the lifts, together with the speed of the dance, tells a trained eye a lot about us as dance partners: that we dance so well together, not only because we work hard, but because we have expertise, because we trust each other, and because we can communicate without speaking
This dance took us days to learn and perfect, so I understand Samuel’s need to brag to Monsieur Pietro. Just like an amazing painting being displayed for the experts to observe and judge, this dance is a piece of art.
When the song comes to an end, Samuel pulls me close and finishes it with our signature lift and dip.
Yeah, those still manage to steal my breath away; the surviving few after the dance, anyway.
“Wonderful,” Samuel murmurs between ragged breaths.
Nice to know the dance also managed to exhaust you.
He helps me up, pulling me into an embrace and kissing the top of my head.
A round of applause distracts me. I was so focused on the dance I didn’t notice the students gathered around the dance floor.
“And this is why you are my principal dancers,” Monsieur Pietro declares loudly, focusing his gaze on Anya, who glares at Samuel and me. “This dance speaks of dedication and passion for the art. Thank you, Monsieur Solis and Mademoiselle Melbourne, for showing it to us. You are dismissed from class. The rest of you, time to warm up,” he says, returning his attention to the rest of the students.
“Let’s go, beautiful,” Samuel whispers in my ear. “Vicente, Rodrigo, Maria, and Mom are expecting us.”
Did I understand right? Miranda is waiting for us?
My eyes widen, making him laugh. “Time to paso doble! Mom looks forward to teaching her nue—you,” he corrects.
Ha! You were about to say nuera.
Momentarily, I focus on my nickname, since it sounds like I heard it somewhere else recently.
N-U-E-R-A.
Ugh, it has the dreaded r in it. Maybe it sounds familiar because it’s on the spelling bee list.
I’ll steal a peek at it later to figure out the meaning of the word. Perhaps I’ll manage to find out what suegra also means.
We leave the studio, and Samuel hurries to my side, stealing my gym bag and backpack. At this point, I’ve learned to allow him; arguing will get me nowhere.
“Wow, Samantha, you did amazing!” he cheers, capturing my hand after placing the bags on his back.
“The choreography is amazing. I simply performed what you and Maria taught me,” I answer honestly.
He stops walking and studies me.
“The choreography is only a small part of it. When someone performs it well is what makes something ordinary, extraordinary.” He then pulls me closer. “And you are an extraordinary dancer.”
Tomato face ready to set in, in three, two, one…
On cue, my face turns a lovely shade of red. The worst part is, he captured my hands, which means I can’t hide it from him.
“Thank you for dancing with me, beautiful,” he says with a smoldering smile.
If he continues telling me such things while looking at me like that, my face will permanently change to this color.
“Why did you want to show the dance to Monsieur Pietro?” I change the subject, hoping my face and heart rate return to normal.
“Hmmm, I knew he would enjoy it,” he replies, “and to guarantee that I’ll still be principal dancer when I return.”
I scoff, laughing. “You were marking your territory?”
“Of course.” He chuckles. “Some of the male dancers will jump at the opportunity to dance next to you,” he adds, “and I don’t want to take that risk.”
Oh, really?
“Besides,” he continues, “some girls also need a refresher on why Monsieur Pietro assigned you as principal.”
A chill runs through my body as I remember Anya’s hateful glare. “I don’t want to be principal.”
His forehead wrinkles. “You’d rather see me dancing with Anya?”
No freaking way! If it were up to me, you would only dance with me.
Immediately, I shake my head, making him laugh.
“Good to know.” He stops in front of his car and puts our items in the trunk. “Your turn to drive.” He offers me the keys.
For a moment, his hand twitches when I reach for them.
“Just be careful,” he slowly adds before letting them go.
“Obviously.” I smile, take the keys, and go to the driver’s side while happily shaking them.
Freestyle
When we arrive at Miranda’s house, where we’ll rehearse today, Rodrigo and Vicente open the door, and my grin widens.
“Dibs on dancing with Samantha today!” Vicente shouts the moment he lays eyes on me.
On Tuesday, you avoided me like the plague, and now you call dibs on me? I guess you figured out I’m not Abigail after all.
“You plan to abandon me to my fate?” Samuel puts his hand on his chest as if hurt.
“I am leaving you in good and expert hands.” Vicente steps aside to allow me to enter.
“Rodrigo?” Samuel raises his eyebrows.
Vicente shakes his head. “Nope,” he answers with an evil chuckle, “your mom!”
“¡Mierda!” Samuel scowls.
“Language!” I complain, confident he said a curse word.
The kids in Spanish class might not be able to spell half the words on the list or roll their tongues, but they sure know how to curse in Spanish.
“I heard that!” Miranda shouts from the living room.
“Damn it!” Samuel whispers.
I give him a small slap on the arm, making Rodrigo laugh.
“And that, too!” Miranda calls. “Step inside before you finish corrupting Samantha’s ears!”
“What about our ears?” Vicente shouts back at her in an innocent voice, but his Cheshire Cat smile totally ruins the effect.
Miranda steps out of the living room wearing a black leotard and a long skirt with blue polka dots, her hand on her hip and an ugly glare in her eyes.
“You taught Samuel half the curse words he knows in Spanish,” she reprimands, making Rodrigo laugh. “Stop joking around and get back in here.”
Vicente and Rodrigo turn
and jump when they find her right behind them, then both run to the living room.
“Nuera, time to paso doble,” she says excitedly.
Snickers come from the living room.
She spins with a murderous glare in her eyes, ending their giggling.
“We should probably join them before Mom goes on a murder spree and ends Rodrigo’s and Vicente’s lives,” Samuel proposes, making me laugh.
As we enter the living room, my eyes widen. The furniture has been pushed to one side, and portable mirrors placed in front of the chimney recreate a dance studio inside Miranda’s house.
David slumps in one of the chairs, near a table, working on his laptop. A set of headphones hang from his neck.
“Hi, David!” I chirp while approaching him. “It seems so long since I last saw you.”
He glances at me and returns his gaze to the screen with a frown. “You missed last week’s family dinner.”
“Sorry. It won’t happen again because I learned my lesson about singing in the library,” I tell David, hoping to cheer him up.
He gives a brief nod but doesn’t turn toward me.
Samuel quickly walks over and leans in to whisper, “He’s in a terrible mood. He’s worried our dancing will disrupt the dinner schedule, plus Vicente and Rodrigo will also join us.”
“I’m not worried about that,” David lies. “Although, those two buffoons will likely cause some trouble.”
Samuel raises his eyebrows. “Well, then, what is it?”
“I would rather be in my room than here.” He clicks the mouse. “But I want to check on Mom.”
Samuel rolls his eyes. “Maria and I can keep an eye on her. If we notice any signs of exhaustion, we’ll make her stop.”
David shakes his head. “I want to observe what the bigger pills do.”
Samuel glances over his shoulder while Miranda discusses something with Rodrigo and Vicente. He then turns back to his brother.
“We already went through this, and we agreed all the pills are the same size, color, and shape,” Samuel whispers as he steps closer to David.
David shakes his head without turning his eyes from the monitor. “You agreed to it. But some are less than one millimeter smaller, and the colors vary from diamond white to chalk white.”
I wouldn’t be able to tell one from the other.
“The bigger ones proved to give her more energy, like today,” David continues.
Samuel shakes his head. “So today’s dialysis and eating a healthy lunch didn’t help at all?”
David shrugs and continues his work.
“Come on, Samantha. Maria and Mom came up with an excellent idea for the choreography, and we need to finish by dinnertime.” He raises his eyebrows, focusing his eyes on David, who nods in agreement.
Once we step out of David’s earshot, I ask, “What was that about?”
Samuel shakes his head and sighs. “Different points of view.”
We reach one side of the living room, where Samuel hands me the red skirt and the dancing shoes Maria loaned me two days ago. “I brought these from your house. Now time to suit up, Señorita Swann; we’re about to board the world of pirates.”
My head jerks back.
Wasn’t I supposed to be a dove, not a swan?
“For today”—he turns to David and eyes him—“we’ll be pretending,” he says, loud enough for his brother to listen in. “You’ll be Miss Swann, and I’ll be—”
Woah, woah, woah. Who is this Miss Swan?
“Captain Jack Sparrow.” He straightens and puts his hands on his hips while staring at…the window?
Big Guy, he’s losing it.
When I don´t respond, he peeks at me.
“Okay, matey, time for Captain Sparrow to teach you el paso doble,” he says with a strange accent.
“Who?” I point at our dance teachers. “Aren’t their names Rodrigo and Vicente?”
Vicente and Rodrigo laugh while Miranda and Maria—who just arrived—quickly shush them.
Samuel gasps. “You’ve never heard of Pirates of the Caribbean?”
“Uhm”—I eye the rest of them—“no.”
Samuel turns his face to the ceiling. “Ugh, you are killing all my jokes, Miss Swann!”
“Wasn’t I a dove?” I ask.
His hand flies to his forehead. “You know what? Forget it. It’s not funny if I need to explain it. What’s important is that Joy loves the movie, so that means she’ll love the dance. Now, prepare your attitude and your dancing shoes.”
Miranda turns out to be an excellent teacher; her son inherited her patience and, just like her sister, Miranda gives clear and precise instructions.
Or at least with me, she’s a darling.
Samuel, Vicente, and Rodrigo get the strict teacher. Their eyes constantly narrow at me when Miranda acknowledges my improvements, earning me the title of teacher’s pet. Vincente happily calls me that every time I get praise, while David reminds him that it’s against the law for a human to own another human as a pet.
We quickly work on the steps of the choreography. However, the “fine-tuning” takes longer. Learning to get the right attitude and posture proves to be the hardest task for me, and it’s the one, according to Miranda, that will make this dance a success.
“Samantha, your moves need to be sharp, precise, and perfect,” she explains, stepping up next to me.
With a quick and sudden movement, she demonstrates a move from the dance where she brings her arm up, and with controlled energy, comes to a complete stop, never hesitating, finishing the lines of her arms while keeping the Spanish style.
“Okay.” I quickly replicate the step.
“Better,” she says after a close examination of how I hold my arm. “But don’t hesitate.”
Studying my reflection, I channel my inner Abigail while replicating the move.
This time, I earn an approving nod from Miranda. “Now, add more passion to your moves. Imagine you want to stomp Samuel’s feet when putting your feet down.”
“Hey!” Samuel stumbles on the move he was performing. “Remember I’m your son and you love me.”
“Or”—she grins as she eyes him—“imagine you want to kiss the life out of him,” she chuckles, “when you step closer to him.”
This time, I stumble on my feet. Can she somehow sense my thoughts and dreams?
Vicente and Rodrigo laugh.
“Or, don’t just imagine it and just do it!” Vicente proposes, earning Miranda’s applause.
Oh, nuts!
For a moment, I can’t look at Samuel, as blood rushed straight to my face.
“The stomping or the kissing?” Rodrigo asks, making me feel even more awkward.
“Whichever gives her more pleasure,” Vicente chortles.
Oh, Big Guy? Really?
Maria shoots them both a glare. “He needs to work on the presentation, so please no stomping.”
Miranda claps her hands together, bringing everyone’s attention to her. “We need to refocus. I want to see heads whipping and backs arching. And no one getting stomped on.”
Thank you, Big Guy, for changing the subject. Maybe now I can stop blush—
“Samantha, hips forward and bring the girls out.” Miranda shows me, arching her back and pushing her breasts forward. “Display them!”
Well, too late. There I go again. But it’s good to know you have a sense of humor, I guess.
I thought el paso doble would be easy, but today proves me wrong. The controlled energy and sharpness of the moves require a lot of strength. A few hours in and my body demands a break; then again, it already put in a couple of hours of ballet earlier.
I walk over to David and watch the choreography, trying to picture how it will look when we add the costumes. Miranda explained she based this choreography on a dance she saw on a television show and thought it would be appropriate for Joy’s party.
Miranda comes and sits next to me while drinking a glass of water. She stares proudly at
her son dancing together with Vicente and Rodrigo, his moves almost as perfect as theirs.
“I believe we’re almost done,” she declares. “We can rehearse tomorrow for an hour before we get you ready.”
Oh well, a little more rehearsal won’t hurt. Plus, it allows me to skip Ballet and hide from Portia.
“Samuel needs to improve his lines. Vicente is usually half a second ahead of the rest, Rodrigo makes a strange move with his hips during the turns, and Samantha still needs to work on the attitude,” David points out, making Miranda laugh at her son’s super critical eye. “Aunt Maria, as expected, out-dances the lot.”
“Well, she has years of practice, darling,” Miranda explains. “With a few extra days, the choreography would be perfect. But this will do, hon.”
She turns and takes hold of my hand.
“You’re doing great, Nuera. I’m proud of you.” She gives it a quick squeeze. “That’s it for today,” she declares, raising her voice. “Time to shower. Maria and Samantha, you can use my bathroom. Vicente, Rodrigo, and Samuel, take turns upstairs and make it quick. I’ll order the takeout.”
While Maria showers, I help David set the table. Samuel, meanwhile, calls Oliver and Zach to check on some final details for the party.
Afterward, Miranda ushers me into the bathroom to shower before Vicente and Rodrigo steal all the hot water.
Once I shower and put my uniform back on, I feel reenergized; all the hard work we did makes my heart leap as I imagine how good this dance will look at Joy’s party.
When I arrive in the living room, Miranda is shuffling through the songs on her iPhone. Her face brightens with a smile, and she quickly connects her iPhone to the speakers and selects one. Her smile widens when the first beats begin to play.
Curious to know what made Miranda beam, I step closer to listen to the song. But when the Spanish singing begins, I know I’ve never heard it before.
Honestly, I should have seen that one coming.
The lyrics are a complete mystery, but the upbeat rhythm needs no translation. My feet and hips immediately want to join in, following the beat of the drum.
