Pas De Deux: A Dance For Two

by Lynn Turner

  Zack chuckled and embraced her. “Just a guess, but I don’t think that’s what the doctor had in mind.”

  “Bah!” she huffed. Then, to Mina’s amazement, she came and reached for her, kissing each of her cheeks. “Celebration for you too, mami, I saw you dancing on the TV.” She gave Mina a quick appraisal. “You need to eat.”

  Releasing her without another word, she took one of the dishes from the counter, heading for the table in the open dining room. The aunts seemed to take it as a silent command, and followed suit, filing after her one-by-one with casserole dishes in hand.

  “Carmen…” Mina touched Carmen’s arm.

  Carmen looked at Mina sympathetically. “They like you, linda. The less you hear your own name, the more you are loved. Mijo’s grandmother was married to my father for fifty-two years. She’s always bragging about how they were so in love, they never addressed each other by name.”

  Mina’s rapid heartbeat had nothing to do with nerves, and everything to do with the way Zack looked at her before he lifted a casserole dish in each hand and strolled from the kitchen.

  “I—non, I don’t mind,” she stammered.

  Petite, petite, petite, her subconscious sing-songed. Mentally shooing her away, she turned to find Carmen watching her.

  Merde.

  Thanking the universe for skin that (mostly) camouflaged the heat spreading over it now, she tried again. “I wanted to apologize, for earlier. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s forgotten, cariño.” Carmen cupped one of Mina’s cheeks in her slightly calloused hand. “I meant what I said to you in the hallway. You’re humble, and you should never lose that—but you must stop apologizing for living. Okay?”

  Mina smiled tearfully. “Okay.”

  There was enough food on the table to feed a corps de ballet. Abuelita sat to Mina’s right, making it her mission to pile a little of everything onto Mina’s plate.

  “You’re not allergic to anything, are you, mami?” Abuelita asked, hovering a wooden spoon over a seafood dish.

  “Non,” Mina said. “That looks incredible. What is it?”

  “It’s my sweet mofongo with shrimp and mango sofrito,” Abuelita said proudly. “I make it with green and ripe plátanos. Sometimes I do sweet potato, but not for summer—here you go.”

  Isabel—sitting across from Mina—would not be outdone. “Here, try my rice and peas. It goes with everything.”

  By the time the ladies were through, Mina’s plate was full to heaping, and she needed a moment to decide what to try first.

  “Friendly reminder I’ve brought a human to dinner and not King Kong,” Zack said dryly.

  “Oh, it’s okay,” Mina said. “Whenever I visit my grands-parents in Aix-en-Provence, I always feel like a goose being prepped for foie gras.”

  Abuelita chuckled. “Where is that, mami?”

  “Le Midi, the South of France. Pépé is a professeur de mathématiques at the university there. He’s Tunisien, and a great cook—though maman complains his food is too spicy. Mémé has a patisserie. I can never stay too long, because they feed me too much. I wouldn’t be able to fit my tights.”

  Yara laughed. “That’s the most I’ve heard you talk so far, linda.”

  “Sí,” Ana said. “That accent! Let’s keep her talking. I can listen to her all day.”

  Zack’s left brow reached for the ceiling.

  “What?” Mina was aware of the four pairs of eyes on them now.

  “I swear I walked on broken glass, then jumped through a flaming hoop before I learned something about you other than the fact you can do a double tour with your eyes closed, when most men can’t do that.”

  “You didn’t ask.” Shrugging, she dug her fork into the rice and peas.

  “Oooohhhh, I like her,” said Isabel.

  “Me too.” Zack whispered it so only Mina heard him, then louder, “Where’s Titi Clarita? And papá?”

  “Manny is on his way,” Carmen said. “He had a community organizing meeting today. Clarita has a date.”

  “This is the fifth date,” Yara informed the table. “I told Clarita to take condoms, just in case.”

  Mina choked.

  “You okay, mami?” Abuelita asked, as if she hadn’t heard a thing…or she had and wasn’t scandalized by it at all.

  “Oui, I’m fine.” Mina was an adult, after all. She could handle someone talking about safe sex…at the dinner table.

  She met Zack’s amused gaze. It distinctly asked, Pineapple?

  Lifting her chin, she gave him a look that said, Non. Then out loud, “I’ll just…slow down.”

  “He’s younger than her,” Ana said. “I only date older men. They’re happy just to get some—they don’t expect me to do gymnastics like you young girls, linda.”

  Mina choked again.

  “Ana!” Carmen spat. “You’re gonna kill her, you keep on.”

  Abuelita put a rum-scented drink in front of Mina, which Mina gratefully brought to her lips. She heard Zack’s soft laughter but refused to look at him again. She did not need his pineapples, merci beaucoup.

  By the time Manny showed up, everyone else had finished the main course, Isabel had informed Mina of a switchblade that masqueraded as lipstick (so the next time someone tried to mug her, she could cut the bitch), and Zack had asked Mina about pineapples no less than seven times. Yara, the self-proclaimed Queen of Desserts, was serving her luscious piragua de crema de mango con vainilla—mango vanilla cream shaved ice. Carmen had his plate full before he’d loosened his tie and sat down.

  “How was it, papi?” Carmen asked.

  “I think it went well.” Manny tucked a paper towel into the collar of his shirt. “We had great turnout this time, more young people in attendance than I’ve seen in years—lotta people fired up after that voter purge we had last year. I’m starting to think anger is a better motivator than peer pressure and promises.”

  “It’s true.” Yara nodded. “Happy people don’t vote. Pissed people picket.”

  “Okay, Doctor Seuss,” said Ana. “Maybe you should write a children’s book, teach kids about voting.”

  “That’s not a bad idea, actually,” said Zack.

  “Sí,” Isabel said. “And a safe sex book. ‘No glove, no love.’”

  “Come on, that one was for our generation,” Yara said. “You gotta use something fresh, like, ‘Cover your bony before she rides the pony.’”

  “Wrap it up or you’ll fill her cup,” Ana joined in.

  Yara didn’t seem impressed. “I like, ‘Cloak the joker before you poke her.’”

  “That’s terrible,” said Carmen.

  “Yeah, seriously.” Isabel looked exasperated. “Those are too hetero. We need to be more inclusive. Like, ‘Protect your bits before you hit.’”

  “Mind your middle before you diddle,” said Yara.

  Even Abuelita took a turn. “Make sure they like cake before you bake.”

  Mina burst into laughter.

  Ana went again. “Check the weather down south, or you’ll scorch your mouth.”

  Manny looked toward the ceiling. “Oh, for God’s sake—Ow!”

  Mina jumped.

  Abuelita had somehow reached behind her and Zack and whacked Manny with a wooden spoon. “You know better, nene.” She scowled. “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”

  “Lo siento, mamá.” Manny rubbed his shoulder.

  Mina was doubled over. They had been utterly ridiculous all evening long, so Abuelita’s hard limit being Jesus made her break.

  “Maybe you need some cake, mami.” Abuelita grinned.

  Oh…mon Dieu. She couldn’t breathe.

  Zack bent over to gloat in her ear. “Craving any fruit, petite? I recommend pineapples. They’re in season.”

  Straightening and collecting herself, Mina pressed a hand to her stomach. “Non, merci, I’m full.”

  “So, Mina.” Manny seemed eager for sane conversation. “How is it working with mijo so far? He giving you
any trouble?”

  “Oui.” Mina threw a sidelong glance at Zack. “He’s pushy.”

  “Hey…” Zack started to protest.

  “And mean,” Mina continued. “But…after learning his technique, I’m sure I can do anything. I’m stronger than I have ever been, and I have him to thank for that.”

  Zack looked like he might fall from his chair. “Will wonders never cease?”

  “Stop teasing her, mijo,” Carmen scolded. “You didn’t always admit you needed help, either.”

  “Yeah,” said Isabel. “Remember the time he couldn’t figure out how to use a dance belt?”

  Zack groaned. “Any time you’re ready, petite.”

  “Non. I want to hear. Dance belt?” she asked innocently, leaning forward.

  “You know damn well what a dance belt is,” he murmured.

  “Hush.” Mina waved him away.

  Seeming resigned, he leaned back, folding his arms across his chest.

  “What was he, twelve? Thirteen?” Isabel asked.

  “Thirteen,” Carmen said. “He’d just started partnering classes, and these things—they’re not like jockstraps at all. They offer no protection if a girl’s foot slips or a turn goes wrong. They’re like thongs men wear under their tights to lift their buns and make their junk look good.”

  “Thanks a lot, mamá.” Zack massaged his temples.

  “Hush, mijo. Anyway, he spent a whole week miserable and in pain, until he finally admitted he needed help stuffing everything in there the right way.”

  Mina caught Zack’s pained expression and couldn’t resist. “So…everything was just…flopping around?”

  “Sí, hanging low and looking messy—But I asked one of the older boys to show him how it’s done, so he wouldn’t be too embarrassed.”

  “We wouldn’t want that, would we?” Zack muttered.

  Mina bit back more laughter.

  “It’s not an issue anymore, for the record.” Zack straightened his shoulders, which pushed his chest out, and Mina looked down his body automatically.

  “Of course not.” She lifted her gaze back up to his.

  “Although, I may consider full-body armor after a few weeks of dancing with you.”

  “I’m the one who needs armor. In case I fall from one of your crazy lifts.”

  He looked hurt. “I have never dropped you.”

  “Non, but it doesn’t mean I won’t fall.”

  His expression darkened, his eyes pinning her to her seat. “I’d catch you.”

  Her pulse sped up at the double entendre, her mouth clamping shut. Merde. Perhaps she was reading into things. Perhaps it wasn’t a double entendre. She couldn’t think with him looking at her like that, like he was trying to forge a path through her nervous system and into the far recesses of her mind. Like it was absolument a double entendre.

  Manny cleared his throat, and Mina turned to see everyone staring at them—most of them with amusement. Everyone but Manny.

  “How’s the grant proposal writing going, mijo?” Manny asked Zack, bursting their bubble completely. “I thought you’d come by the community organizing meeting and throw your hat in the ring.”

  The room fell quiet. So quiet, the sound of Manny’s fork hitting his nearly empty plate was like two cymbals crashing together. Mina noticed the other women’s eyes were focused on that fork, too. But not Zack’s. His were dark and unreadable, and though his body language seemed relaxed, his jaw looked tense.

  “Not now, papi,” Carmen said softly.

  “It’s going great,” Zack answered in a casual, upbeat tone—the kind people used when they did not feel at all casual or upbeat. “Almost finished, in fact. Just ironing out a few more details before the submission deadline.”

  Mina knew it wasn’t her place, and interfering was rude, but her need to know overcame any trepidation. “You’re writing a grant? But…where in the world do you find the time?”

  Zack’s expression softened for her, his lips curving into a reluctant smile. “Somewhere between midnight and six in the morning.”

  Mina couldn’t hide her astonishment. “What is it for?”

  “Mijo wants funding for a dance school for the kids.” Carmen was obviously proud, and probably wanted to lighten the air a little. “We’d have our own studios, a library, tutoring and computer labs…”

  “It’s ambitious,” Manny cut in. “It’s more realistic to pitch for more funding for the program at the rec center. Get an afterschool program going year-round.”

  “It’s not enough, papá.” Zack’s voice had an edge to it.

  Abuelita and the aunts busied themselves with clearing the table, clearly having witnessed this conversation before. Mina’s hand instinctively reached for Zack’s underneath the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  He didn’t look at her, but he squeezed back. “This community shares two million dollars between all its nonprofit programs for low-income youth. That’s great, I’m not downplaying that accomplishment, but for kids who are serious about pursuing dance careers, it’s not enough.”

  “It was enough for you, mijo,” Manny said. “You went through the same program, worked hard, and got everything you dreamed of. You saying these kids can’t, too?”

  Wiping his hand over his face, Zack sighed. “I’m grateful, papá, but I’m an exception and you know it. This grant would cover university-trained dance teachers, partnering with local dance theaters to work with their choreographers. Gifted students would get scholarships to dance academies, increasing their chances of pursuing real dance careers from about impossible to abso-fucking-lutely.”

  “Mijo,” Carmen tried to interject…

  “No, mamá. I appreciate the doors you guys opened for me. I’m just trying to open more, a little faster.”

  “And you refuse to let anyone help you,” Manny said stiffly.

  “How’s that?” Zack asked, just as stiffly.

  “Zachary…” Mina tried, but he’d released her hand, his hackles up—a lion primed for a fight.

  Merde.

  Abuelita and the aunts were frozen at the kitchen counter, apologies on their faces. Giving them a brittle smile, Mina could only sit there helplessly.

  “You don’t let people open doors anymore,” Manny accused. “Even when you know someone with a key—you’d rather kick them down yourself.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Zack fired back. “What’s wrong with taking control instead of waiting for someone to give it to you?”

  “That’s your problem right there. You have to be in control of everything. All, or nothing—even the food you eat—”

  “Papi!” Carmen protested.

  “Same thing, same time, every day. Right, mijo?” Manny asked flatly.

  “Pineapple,” Zack bit through his teeth, then looked at Mina. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Zack sat on the grass in Sunset Park with Mina, watching two Doberman Pinschers walk their little girl.

  “Oh mon Dieu!” her face lit up with delight. “How adorable.”

  “Yeah, until those two take off after a squirrel and she turns into a kite.”

  Everything in him seemed to smile with her laughter, as bright and vivid as the sun’s final rays of the day. It was a mild evening for July, so families and couples were spread out everywhere, on blankets across the park’s grassy hills, to watch darkness fall.

  From their vantage point, they could see clear across the bay, where Lady Liberty stood with her torch aloft, and Jersey City behind her. Zack pointed them out for Mina, identifying the tips of Ellis Island and Governors Island…and the skyscrapers of Lower Manhattan stretching into the sky. Beneath them and closer in, were several church spires, and water towers atop pale brick row houses, blending with the colorful awnings of the diverse restaurants in the heart of Brooklyn.

  Impulsively, he threw an arm around her shoulders, hugging her against his side. Her contented little sigh kindled something in his heart. Maybe it
was being around his family, and the kids at the rec center, and romping around his childhood haunts with her that made him want…more.

  He longed for nocturnal strolls and late-night picnics with her in summer; for winter nights exploring new restaurants and theaters, huddling in close to each other in puffer coats, their arms circling each other’s waists. They’d laugh, their breaths coming out in cold puffs of visible air, shivering their asses off until they ducked into their shared apartment, where the rent was too fucking high, but the location was perfect. They’d strip off their clothes and fall into bed, wrapping themselves in the silk and warmth of each other’s skin, simultaneously dreading and looking forward to the next day, when they’d wake up and work themselves silly doing exactly what they loved…

  The sun slowly descended toward the horizon, turning the sky a bright, intense yellow that was hard to look at for too long. Squinting, she looked away from the sunset and caught him staring at her. Her beautiful, upturned face was awash in gold, highlighting her gorgeous brown skin and illuminating her eyes, until she looked like a bronzed statuette—his very own muse. The city seemed to come to a standstill, if only for a few seconds, along with the beat of his heart.

  Holy shit.

  He was falling in love with her.

  Days and nights with her played out in front of him as if from an old movie reel, its film so long, it stretched out over the water and disappeared into the skyline.

  “The light is back in your eyes,” she murmured. “I didn’t like seeing it burn out earlier.”

  “You have no idea,” he whispered.

  Her brows pinched together. “Are you going to tell me?”

  “Yes.”

  Truthfully, he’d rather be stripped ass-naked and strapped to the airship mast at the top of the Empire State Building than explain his tenuous relationship with food to her. He could think of a million things he’d rather be doing, and every one of them was identical.

  Her breath caught. “Are you going to kiss me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Zack—”

  “Shut up, petite.”

  “Connard.”

  He smiled a slow, deep smile, his free hand coming up to take a handful of her curls. Indulging himself a moment, he sifted their spiraling softness through his fingers, then tugged her gently forward. Even narrowed on him, her eyes were so beautiful, reaching deep inside of him and warming his soul.