by Tiana Laveen
“Arashi, I have a return receipt from the email I sent you. I know you’re blowing me off.
Well, are you coming tonight?” Morris demanded.
“Morris, I don’t have all the time in the world. I have a lot to do. Remember that Hopkins case? I’ve been subpoenaed for court. He wasn’t my client, but he was Lucy’s, and I covered a couple times for her while she was in Tibet. Since he has allegedly murdered someone and attempted suicide, everyone that he was in contact with, most importantly police, doctors, and the like have to testify. This has been very time-consuming for me and…”
“If anything, that’s a reason to get out and get some fresh air!
I’m coming to get you.”
“No, please,” Arashi begged. Morris hung up. Arashi turned back to his computer to read the rest of his emails.
To: Arashi Takahashi
From: Ryoko Yamamoto
Date: September 17
Time: 6:31PM
Arashi,
Please call me. I know you asked me to not call anymore, but I miss you, and I know you feel the same way. Arashi-kun wa, taisetsu ni shite-iru wa. (I love you.)Ryoko Arashi’s face became flushed. He stood up, taking off his jacket. He turned on his miniature waterfall and lit a linen-scented candle before finishing off his sushi from earlier.
Propping his size-ten feet on his mahogany desk, he let his head fall back. Layers of feathered, shiny, jet-black tresses glided in reverse, like raven wings. He drifted off into thoughts of tasks that needed to be handled before the end of the weekend.
“Purchase new trashcan for master bedroom – grocery shop –
plums on sale for end of season – call Mom and Dad – laundry –
ask maid to do windows over – take King to vet for exam – cut fingernails…” His thoughts were interrupted by his receptionist buzzing his phone.
“Arashi, sorry to bother you, but Morris is here.” Arashi slapped his desk.
“Damn it!”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing, Wendy – just send him in,” Arashi said in an irritated tone. When the door opened, Wendy, Morris, and many others in Arashi’s work circle were standing there.
“Come on, man!” yelled Morris, flashing the gap between his teeth as he danced towards Arashi. Morris pulled Arashi’s arms, coaching him out of the chair.
“Wendy, you set me up!” Arashi said annoyed. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
“Arashi, you have to get out sometimes. This ballet has been sold out for weeks. This dance troop’s incredible. You’re in for a real treat,” she smiled.
“I don’t even know what urban ballet is! I don’t even like ballet!” Arashi snapped.
“Man, you’re going to like this. I’m telling you!” Morris cheered. Arashi nodded sarcastically.
“Yeah, just like I liked the Jell-o shot party. Or how about the whiskey-from-around-the-world tasting you made me go to, and the waiters were ‘little people’ dressed in penguin outfits? The best one was the edible underwear meeting! It was actually a serious meeting where people were pouring their hearts out about the best edible underwear and why it was so special!”
Arashi rolled his eyes. Wendy held her stomach and laughed.
“Morris, you didn’t?” Morris looked around sheepishly, rubbing his thin pale fingers through his blonde hair. “OK, enough of this, Arashi. We have to get going before our seats are given away. Get your jacket on. Let’s hit it!”
The small crowd left Arashi’s office and approached the elevator while Morris dragged Arashi by the wrist, his jacket hanging half off his frame.
* * *
“This is amazing!” squealed Wendy as she scooted past a crowd of people in the theater. “Not only did we get free tickets, they’re second row!” Arashi rolled his eyes and followed her to the middle of the line. Morris sat by him while the others dispersed. Arashi looked around the massive auditorium. Not a seat was empty. There was moderate chatter. The chairs were unusually ornate, and the large scarlet velvet curtains were held with thick, twisted, golden ropes. The smell of violin resin filled the room. Arashi leaned over to Morris.
“You never told me what an urban ballet is. Never mind.
Don’t worry about it. I’m going to sleep. Wake me when it’s over.” Arashi laid his head back and yawned as ushers walked to and fro, assisting people that were in the incorrect seats or lost.
The lights began to dim, and the audience quieted down.
“Good, now I can really get into my nap,” Arashi said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Morris smirked and looked back towards the stage. Najee’s
“Tokyo Blue” began to play. The bassline carried sound to every ear and filled the auditorium with rivets of pleasing notes.
Arashi leisurely opened his eyes, still keeping his head tilted back. He looked at the stage. A lean and light-complected African-American man danced across the arena solo. He wore sleek black dance bellbottoms, no shirt, and his back showcased an assortment of tattoos. He raised his hands in the air, twirling on his toes, and bowing while doing large spins that took up the expansive stage. Arashi slowly sat up. Two more men came out, dancing in unison. A deep, masculine voice sang while the music grew softer in the background.
Your blues ain't like mine.
Your shoes I’ll not shine.
To the Indians, you gave tainted blankets and wine.
Told me I could serve you but not dine.
I’ll not sit in the back of the bus.
I’ll not pray to your ‘In God We Trust.’
You stole my people and turned our history to dust.
For our Black women, you did lust.
You broke up our happy home.
Forty acres and a mule was not even a loan.
Strange fruit I was, swinging from trees.
I won’t pray to your God.
I’ll not bow my knee.
You stole my diamonds and my gold.
I was in the tropics, now I survive in the cold.
How could you be so brazen and bold?
White man, you must go.
The stage went black, and a new song began – “Circumstance”
from Tisdale played. A woman in a sheer leotard appeared. Her hair was up in a braided bun, pinned with an ivory flower. A man came out from the opposite side. They stood looking at each other from afar.
Slowly they danced towards one another. The female dancer held an arabesque and waited longingly. She was scooped in the air and carried across the floor through various spins and maneuvers. They danced back and forth, imitating a mating ritual. Arashi was taken aback by the beauty and fluidity of their moves. He had never seen ballet dancing like this. He was now fully alert and leaned slightly forward in his seat. The two dancers finished by flowing into one another behind a sheer curtain which hoisted them into the air. The audience applauded as the stage faded to black.
New music cued – Timbaland f. Drake’s “Say Something"
played. Arashi and many others laughed as someone yelled out,
“Hell, yeah!” once the song started. Amethyst and emerald colors illuminated the theater. Someone in a dark gray hoodie and slim leggings with black ballet shoes slid across the stage.
She began to pop lock to the beat of the song. Applause broke out once the dancer stopped and executed a balloon followed by an elevation. The person transitioned into ballet in the middle of the tune so effortlessly. The music faded out and blended into a new song – “So Sweet” by Brad Young.
Sweet thang, sweeter than, candy – (candy).
When I taste your lips – on – mine.
Shoulders – golden brown – like – hon-ey – (yes it is).
So sweet – like candy to my eye.
The dancer slowly shed her hoodie, revealing a strappy, white, fitted top that compressed her small breasts. Her hair fell free in front of her – satin coffee brown ribbons of loose curls tumbling towards her knees, covering her dark chocolate, flaw
less complexion. She suddenly pulled her head up. Her hair swung, still blocking her eyes. Only a portion of her glossy lips and a long, elegant swan-like neck were exposed. She twisted her body effortlessly across the stage, hypnotizing the audience with each lean, tip toe, and shimmer. She flung her head back, causing her lengthy royal crown of glory to flow behind her like a cape. Swaying her arms, her hips moving from side to side, she glided to the front of the stage, turning seductively, looking over her shoulder, and smiling with her eyes closed. As the song came to an end, she opened her eyes, introducing protracted, dark lashes and an intensely captivating beauty.
Arashi’s lips slightly parted. He swallowed deeply and did not break his gaze. “She’s looking directly at me,” he thought to himself. Her beautiful, graceful, lean, elevated body waved in what appeared to be humanly impossible contortions. The music faded out, and the dancer turned slowly like a drill bit down to the ground until she was sitting Indian Style in a prayer position.
The audience stood up and cheered. Whistling soon followed.
Arashi snapped out of his trance. The lights dimmed, and the next dancer was on the stage, but he did not see him.
All he could think was, “Who in the world is she?”
* * *
“Arashi, I saw you, dude!” Morris jabbed him in the side as they stood up to leave.
“You saw me what?” Arashi raised his eyebrow.
“I saw you get into the ballet. I told you you’d like it!”
Morris laughed. Julia, Morris’s girlfriend, rushed over to them.
She was a full-figured, Columbian woman with beautiful, soft, dark, curly hair and a contagious laugh.
“Julia!” Wendy screamed and hugged her. “However you pulled this off, God bless you. It was great!”
“It was, right? Muy caliente! ” she teased. “Hey guys, there’s a little party backstage tonight
– invite only. I mustered up a few tickets if any of you’d like to meet the dancers.” She raised them up in the air. Arashi stood back and watched the ensuing frenzy. Morris managed to snag a ticket. One of his co-workers yelled, “Come on. My birthday’s coming soon!” Arashi so desperately wanted to knock them all down and take one to see the woman in the hoodie, but instead played it cool. Morris looked at Arashi while the vulturous frenzy continued, then whispered in Julia’s ear.
“Hey guys, why don’t we let Arashi have one?” Morris said.
“Two of us will be ass out. I think it should be me and someone else. I give my ticket to Arashi.” He walked over and handed it to him.
“Why would you think I wanted a ticket? You don’t have to do that,” Arashi said, hoping that Morris wouldn’t say ‘OK’ and take it back.
“You had a great time for a change! I want you to be able to meet all the people that entertained you so well. Look, I’m going across the street to get a drink and listen to some music. When you’re done here, come on over.” Morris walked back over to Julia.
“Come on, Arashi. Let me show you where they are.” Julia took Arashi by the arm and led him through the maze of people.
He stood there in line with Wendy.
“This is so cool, Arashi! I’m glad you liked it. You’ve been looking a little down. I didn’t want to get in your personal business, but ever since you and…”
“Yes, ever since Ryoko and I broke up, I haven’t been myself.
I know. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I really tried to make it work, but we were only together because of our families’
pushing it. She wasn’t what I wanted. We had nothing in common. I just couldn’t keep living a lie.” Arashi shook his head.
“Arashi, trust me. You did the right thing. I know in your culture it’s common for parents to matchmake, but you’re a Japanese-American. You were born and raised here, and you need to feel free to follow some American customs as well. One of which is that we fall in love with whomever we fall in love with, and no one can tell us to change it,” Wendy said tenderly as she patted his forearm. It was their turn to go inside. Arashi looked around the room at the dancers in various stages of undress. Some wore jeans and T-shirts while others were still in costume, meeting and greeting with their make-up half off.
Arashi did not see the “hoodie dancer” anywhere. He waited impatiently, smiling at Wendy as she gathered a glass of wine and fist-full of grapes and socialized. He continued to turn his head to and fro.
“Why am I even back here?” he thought to himself. He suddenly caught the glimmer of a shadow in his peripheral vision. He saw a lean, muscular, but very feminine back exposed in a white leotard. The woman was standing, pulling her long hair across her shoulder and tucking the other side behind one ear. Her skin was satiny chocolate and contrasted beautifully with her flowing white skirt and ballet slippers. She turned around towards the group of people and smiled, brandishing a drop-dead pair of subterranean dimples. Before Arashi could even finish fully looking at her face, people began to walk swiftly towards her, giving praises and accolades. The swarm pushed him back farther. Arashi rubbernecked to no avail.
“Just wait,” he told himself. He slid up against the wall, sipping on a glass of ice water. After a few minutes, the crowd thinned. Julia pushed her way through the remaining people and grabbed Arashi’s arm.
“Arashi, I want you to meet Angel Grace. She’s truly one of the most talented young women that has come out of the Bronx.”
Arashi smiled at her, extending his hand.
“So glad to meet you. Your dancing is truly beautiful. I was never a big ballet fan, but I think you’ve changed my mind,”
Arashi nodded.
“Well then, my job here is done.” She shook his hand. Arashi held her hand a bit longer than he had planned, finally letting go once he realized he still had it.
“What brings you to Pittsburgh from the Bronx?” Arashi asked.
“The dance company I’m with, ‘Push and Move Inc.,’ started a troop here. I’m in charge of helping to get it up-and-running, so we had this show as a kind of coming-out party,” Angel explained. Arashi smiled inside. He loved her New York accent.
“That’s great. Obviously your reputation precedes you.
You’re completely sold-out every night I’m told.”
“Yes, it’s been mad busy. Would you excuse me for a moment?” Angel smiled and walked away to take a piece of paper from a man a few feet from them.
“Probably her boyfriend or husband,” Arashi thought to himself. His licked his bottom lip slowly, studying Angel from various optical angles. He began to daydream as he focused intensely on her full, wet, burgundy lips. He was taking panoramic shots of them with his eyes, imagining his lips next to hers.
“Arashi, hello! I’ve been trying to get your attention for the longest. You OK?” Wendy asked as she folded a napkin around some hors d’oeuvres and slid them into her purse.
“Yes, yes – just thinking.” He threw on a quick artificial grin.
“Are you ready to go across the street and join the rest of the gang?” Wendy asked.
“Um – actually, I think I’m just going to head home, if you don’t mind?” Wendy cocked her head to the side, trying to read Arashi’s mind.
“Well, OK. I’ll see you Monday.”
“OK.” Arashi watched Wendy slide on her lightweight jacket and walk away. He looked over at Angel who was now talking to someone else. He turned his cell phone on and walked towards the backstage exit.
“Arashi, right?” Angel waved for him to come towards her.
“Yes, Arashi,” he smiled as he made his way back.
“Wonderful. Your friend Julia’s just amazing. We’re so grateful that she helped us get to perform here. Without all the strings she pulled, I doubt this would have been even half as successful,” Angel said as she twisted a strand of her hair between her nimble fingers.
“She has a lot of connections and is a really good person. I’ve known her for years,” Arashi assured.
“Really? How d
o you two know each other?” Angel sat down on a nearby stool and popped a slice of Red Delicious apple in her mouth.
“I met her when I was doing my clinical residency. She helps the local Boys and Girls Club, and I’d meet with the kids one-on-one about their family problems, teen pregnancy, and basically anything that they may be dealing with.” Arashi leisurely slid his hand into his pants pocket.
“Oh, you’re a social worker?” Angel asked, washing down her fruit with a swig of Fiji bottled water.
“No, I’m a psychiatrist.” Arashi rocked on his heels and grinned. Angel smiled.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” Arashi looked down at himself.
“You’re rocking back and forth. I used to do that when I was nervous.” She looked up at him coyly.
“Hmm, I don’t feel nervous,” he lied. An awkward silence passed.
“Well, I better get going. It was nice meeting you. You’re a beautiful dancer.” Arashi reached out and kissed her hand. As he touched it, he noticed the delicateness of her slender fingers and rounded fingernails painted with clear polish.
“Thank you,” she said barely audibly. He took a few steps and stopped.
“You know what?” He spun back around. Angel was starting to stand up from the stool.
“I was wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner sometime.”
His palms were sweating.
“Hmm, let me think,” Angel smiled, showcasing those dimples once more. “Just kidding. I’d love to.” Arashi input her information into his Blackberry and caught a cab back to the office.
* * *
“Where in the hell is my car?” Arashi went from aisle to aisle trying to sound his car alarm with his keychain.
“I just want to find my car and go home. I should have driven to the ballet myself.” His frustration mounted as he approached another white Avalon that wasn’t his. After a few more wayward trips, he finally came upon it.
“Thank goodness!” he screamed happily in the vacant parking garage. As he opened his car door, he heard footsteps right behind him. He turned around briskly.
