A Rehearsal for Love

by Alexandra Warren

  “I promise you she is. Just give her a shot. She won’t let you down.”

  I watched as Amerie took a second, longer look at Malia before she teased, “You sound pretty sure about this. Like you… know her well.”

  Though I honestly hadn’t sorted the shit out for myself, I knew for a fact that I didn’t want to give Amerie the wrong impression. So instead, I told her, “Chill. I’ve just been working with her since the studio opened.”

  “Working with her? Is that what you guys call it now?”

  If she was a guy, I would’ve shoved her for talkin’ shit. But since I knew she’d pick up on any hint of an emotional investment, I remained neutral. “Amerie, I’m serious. She’s an incredible dancer. You’d be lucky to have her.” Regardless of how I personally felt about Malia, I knew that fact was the truth.

  Still, Amerie managed to twist my intentions when she replied, “Well it sounds to me, like you would be lucky to have her too.”

  “Whatever. Are you gonna sign her or not?” I hoped switching the subject would be enough for her to let it go.

  And I thought it had worked when she replied, “I mean… any protégé of yours is certainly worth a shot.” But then she quickly added, “And maybe one day you’ll be honest with me about her.”

  I should’ve just told her the truth, put some words to what was happening. But I couldn’t because I legitimately didn’t know for myself. I mean, I had already agreed to keep things at the dance only level, but it felt like I was constantly being drawn to go beyond that. And since I really didn’t know how Malia felt about it, there was no way I was gonna face it head on with Amerie.

  So instead, I pleaded, “I am being honest.”

  Amerie only rolled her eyes, using her years of knowledge to see right through my bullshit as she replied, “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

  Malia

  “Mama! Mama, guess what?!”

  I could hardly contain my excitement as I walked into the apartment, kicking off my shoes and leaving my duffle bag by the door before going to find her

  It was finally happening. All of my hard work, all the years I spent dreaming and wishing for an opportunity like this had finally paid off in the form of my first professional booking. And even if Mama wasn’t thrilled about me getting back into dance on a serious level, there was no way she could still feel that way now.

  She walked out of the kitchen just as I was entering, wiping her hands on a dish towel with a scowl on her face. “What, Malia? And why are you screaming like that?”

  “Mama, I made it! I made the cut!” I said, holding her by the shoulders.

  Her face remained scrunched with confusion as she asked, “Made the what? What are you talking about, girl?”

  I stepped away, making my way past her to the fridge to grab a bottle of water as I explained, “I had an audition today; to be one of Zalayah’s background dancers on her four-city promo tour, and… I got picked!”

  She waved the towel at me, still far from impressed. “Oh, Malia. Calm your silly behind down. And who is Zalayah?”

  “Who is Zalayah?! What do you mean, who is Zalayah? Who doesn’t know Zalayah?” She was easily one of the biggest stars of my time, even if she was a few years younger than me. But since we were still relatively close in age, it almost felt like I had grown up with her. So to now have the opportunity to dance with her...

  “Obviously me. But that’s beside the point. How are you gonna go on tour and you have school?”

  Oh shit.

  It had completely slipped my mind that Mama still didn’t know the full truth. But now that I had reached my ultimate goal for dropping out in the first place, I was a little more confident in explaining, “I… uh… I withdrew. From my classes.”

  The excitement I was looking for from my initial announcement finally showed up in the wrong form as she yelled, “You did what?! No you didn’t. No you didn’t.”

  “I did, Mama. I had to follow my dreams and look where it got me. I’m going on my first tour!” I thought by maybe reminding her of that key fact, she’d be more understanding.

  She wasn’t.

  “You’re not going anywhere but back down to that damn school to re-enroll. I can’t believe you withdrew from your classes. You better hope they take you back.”

  “I’m not going back, Mama.”

  “Like hell you aren’t,” she replied, brushing me off.

  Usually I could handle her not giving a damn, could handle her not understanding, but this was different. This was my life, my dream, everything I had always wanted.

  So I followed her out of the kitchen as I told her, “I’m serious, ma! School was never about me; it was about… you. And now it’s time to do something for myself. I thought you’d be happy for me.”

  “Happy for what? That my daughter has been lying to me for who knows how long about going to school? That my only daughter is going on a damn tour to dance even though she wasn’t supposed to be wasting time dancing in the first place? Oh yeah. I’m real happy, Malia. Thrilled,” she tossed out sarcastically.

  “Whatever, Ma. You’re just jealous.”

  It was always something that had crossed my mind, though I never had the courage to say it to her. But it was like no matter what I did, even when it was exactly what she wanted me to do, she was never impressed. And that kind of hatred could only come from some deep, dark place inside of her that was envious of me being successful, and her being… her.

  “Excuse me?! I just know I didn’t hear that right. Did you say I was… jealous? Jealous of what, exactly? Because last time I checked, you have nothing going for yourself. A part-time job as a waitress isn’t exactly a top-tier position. And now you’re not even in school? If I hadn’t saved your ass, you would be out on the street somewhere with that illegitimate child you created.”

  I froze, trying to regain my composure after what most would consider a knockout blow. But I was so used to it, so used to her going for the jugular and guilt-tripping me into doing what she wanted me to do, that I knew I had to keep fighting.

  But just like any prizefighter who had taken a good shot to the head, I was on wobbly legs by the time I was able to reply, “No I wouldn’t be. I’d find a way with or without you, ma.”

  “Oh yeah? Well do it then. Pack your shit and find a way, you ungrateful little bitch.”

  I opened my mouth to respond again, but nothing came out. I mean, what was really left to say? I always knew she felt this way, she was just waiting for an opportunity to say it out loud; to call her daughter - the only one that ever gave a damn about her - a bitch.

  So instead of stooping to her level, I just stormed off, snagging my shoes and duffle bag from the door on my way out. I wasn’t even worried about clothes, or shoes, or… shit, my phone charger. I just needed to get away before I got even more invested.

  I could still hear her yelling as I made my way down the stairs, not stopping until I was completely out of the building. Then I sat on the stoop to put my shoes back on and figure out a plan. I had some money saved up, but it was really only enough to stay in a hotel for a week at most. And there was still a full two weeks before the tour prep was set to begin, so that wasn’t gonna work.

  Maybe if…

  I shook my head at the latest idea that had came to mind. I mean, Blaise literally had no reason to help me out of this mess I had created for myself, even if it was only a week and some change of me crashing on his couch. But I knew that by the time I would make it back from the tour, I’d have a big enough check to at least be able to put a deposit on an apartment and take care of first month’s rent. And then I could pick up a few extra shifts at the restaurant to be able to pay second month’s rent while also hopefully working on my next big check from dancing.

  Maybe this could actually work.

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I was already headed back to the studio. The walk wasn’t long enough for me to come up with some sophisticated explanation. So when he ca
me to the door - after I had been banging on it for a solid five minutes straight - with a concerned look on his face, I instantly bursted into tears.

  Of course that only added to his concern as he first pulled me into the studio and then into his arms.

  “Malia, what’s the matter? What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

  “My mom,” was all I could push out in between sniffles.

  “Your mom? Is she alright? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

  “Fuck her!” I yelled as I snatched away from him, wrapping myself with my own arms since my body instantly missed being in his. And for a minute he just stared at me, letting me deal with myself.

  “Malia… what is going on, pretty? Tell me what’s up.”

  I used the back of my hand to wipe my tears, embarrassed that they had came out in front of him at all. “She kicked me out.”

  “Kicked you out? Why would she do that?”

  “Because I’m an ungrateful little bitch. Her words.”

  “Yeah right. Your mom did not call you a…” I flashed him my eyes to cut him off, letting him know I was dead serious.

  “But you just got the biggest news of your life! What could have possibly made her call you a… that?”

  I was finally calm enough to get out a real explanation. “The same thing that makes any mother call her daughter a bitch. Self-hate with a sprinkle of envy, mixed with never loved by anyone.”

  For whatever reason that made Blaise laugh as he walked over to where I was standing and wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulder. “So tell me what you need, pretty. Place to stay? Hotel? Help with some rent? Whatever you need, I got you.”

  “Blaise, that’s way too much. All I need is like a couch, or a futon. Hell, I’ll even take the dance room floor and a blanket if that’s all you have.”

  He laughed again as he replied, “Malia, I have a guest bedroom upstairs. It’s not completely furnished, but it’ll do the job. And it’s much better than the floor.”

  I couldn’t reply, too busy wiping the fresh wave of tears that were seeping out.

  Instead of waiting on an answer, he took my free hand and lead me to a staircase that was usually hidden with a door.

  As we climbed the stairs, he asked, “All you brought is your duffle bag? Where’s the rest of your stuff?”

  “I left it,” I told him, feeling a little stupid about that part of the situation now. I could’ve at least grabbed a clean pair of underwear.

  “Well you’ll have to wear something of mine tonight, then we can go get the rest of your stuff tomorrow. Cool?”

  I honestly would’ve been okay with never stepping foot in that apartment again, even if that meant losing some of my most prized possessions. But something about Blaise offering to come with me made me comfortable with the idea, like he would protect me if things went left again. And even if I only ended up staying at his place for the night, in this moment, I was just grateful to have a friend.

  Blaise

  I couldn’t sleep.

  It was like my body knew Malia was nearby and wouldn’t calm itself down until it could make use of her presence. And it wasn’t just a physical need, but having her around and not interacting with her was… foreign. So instead of tossing and turning about it, trying to somehow justify going into the bedroom she was occupying, I headed down to the studio to burn off the energy.

  I didn’t even have a song in mind, just pressed shuffle and went with whatever came up. The song ended up being, I Care For U by Usher; a song I had performed to more than a few times. So even though I was technically freestyling, my moves still felt a little rehearsed. But the further I got into the song, the more I began to pay attention to the lyrics. And the more I began to pay attention to the lyrics, the harder I danced.

  “You're frustrated 'cause I don't react...

  Maybe you want some feedback...

  'Cause normally my feelings don't show...

  But baby I care for you...”

  It didn’t take long for me to work up a real sweat. And once the song was over, I heard a round of applause come from behind me.

  “That was good, Blaise. I’m impressed,” she said as she approached the mirror looking way too adorable to even be real. The messy hair, my t-shirt and basketball shorts, the thick fuzzy socks; it was all too much.

  “Malia. How long have you been down here?” I hadn’t even heard her come in, let alone noticed her hanging out in the back.

  She shrugged as she answered with a teasing smile, “Well I couldn’t exactly sleep with Usher crooning through the floor, so I came down to see if he was putting on a live concert.”

  “My bad. I guess I didn’t think about that room being right above this. I’m never in there.”

  She brushed it off, almost looking back to her usual bubbly self. “No worries. Your performance made it worth the trip down. Now show me that last move again.”

  I laughed, wiping my face on my shirt as I told her, “That’s top secret, pretty. If I show you, I gotta kill you.”

  “Ah, I’ll take my chances. Now show me. Please.”

  With her looking the way she did, there was no way in hell I could’ve told her no. So instead, I positioned myself in the mirror before doing the move again without the music. It was a rehearsed four count from a show I had done years ago when on tour with the man himself. I was actually surprised I remembered it considering how many performances I had done since then, but I suppose there was no better time than now to bring it out of the archives.

  “Wait… so it was left foot first, or right?”

  “Right.”

  “And then what do your arms do again? Like… did you just make that part up or is that actually part of the move?”

  I shrugged, letting out a little laugh as I told her, “Hell if I know. That’s just how I remember it.”

  I watched as she did her interpretation of it, the fuzzy socks causing her to slip and slide a little more than she normally would. And then she asked me to put on the music so she could do it in real time.

  “Malia, it’s like two in the morning. We can practice this shit later.”

  “Just let me do it once and then we can go to bed.”

  The way she said we could go to bed as if we were gonna do it together instead of in rooms of our own lit a fire that I had to turn away and put out before she could see it.

  Well, try to put out.

  It certainly had a mind of its own.

  I made my way over to the sound system, cueing up the music and letting her have at it; thinking maybe watching her exhaust herself would somehow rub off on me. And her version was almost better than mine; hers being a lot more expressive, and sensual, and…

  Shit.

  Down boy.

  She hit the four count I taught her. And once the song was over, I powered the machine down for the night before making my way towards the door.

  “Goodnight, Malia,” I tossed over my shoulder, knowing I needed to get away even though my body was craving her presence.

  But she was already on my heels as she said, “Blaise. Blaise, wait!”

  “What, Malia?” I asked without stopping.

  “I never got a chance to.... tell you thank you. For letting me crash at your place.”

  “Not a problem,” I replied, trying to climb the stairs as fast as I could to get away from her. But she was keeping up; a single stair behind with every step that I took.

  I could hear the concern in her voice as she asked, “Blaise, why are you running away from me? Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, pretty. I’m just ready to go to bed. So goodnight.”

  “Blaise, wait. I… mmmmm…”

  I couldn’t help myself anymore. I tried to get away, tried to keep things platonic, tried to do things the right way. But she just had to know what was going on with me. So I showed her, digging a hand in the back of her hair to deepen my onslaught of her lips; the lips I had been thinking about since the very first time I had
the opportunity to explore them. But before I could get too invested, I pulled away, watching her chest heave up and down as she caught her breath.

  “Now do you understand?”

  She wouldn’t even look me in the eyes, instead doing that thing with lip before she pushed out, “I uh… yeah. I… g-guess so.”

  And this time I really got away, heading straight for my bedroom and locking the door behind me.

  It was a fuckin’ shame how effortlessly attractive Malia was, and that was only enhanced each and every time I watched her dance. And now she was in my crib for the night?

  It hardly seemed possible for me to keep my hands - hell, keep my thoughts - to myself.

  So maybe I wouldn’t.

  Maybe it was time for me to let Malia know exactly how I felt about her. That I was done pushing my true feelings to the side in order to help her succeed in dance when I knew for a fact that I could be doing both.

  For now, I planned to shower and sleep on it. But I had a strong feeling that tomorrow would be the start of a new chapter.

  Malia

  I had been awake for hours, but I didn’t wanna leave the room. I wasn’t sure what I’d do - or better yet, what I was supposed to do - when I saw Blaise for the first time since he had kissed me the night before.

  And it wasn’t just any kiss.

  It was like he was trying to communicate something, make a point, without talking to me. In fact, he was actually trying to avoid talking to me about it. But once I pushed the issue, he… showed me?

  This shit is confusing.

  I rolled over and grabbed my phone that was at 10% battery, instantly reminding me of the real issue at hand.

  My mother.

  She had no idea where I had gone, no idea where I laid my head at for the night, and didn’t even care enough to reach out. For me to be her only daughter, her only family, the only thing left of her bloodline as she knew it made the situation that much more sobering. And even though I knew she wasn’t exactly the most self-sufficient individual, I couldn’t go back. Being there was no longer an option.