The Odd Ballerz

by Ruthie Robinson

  “No,” she said, laughing. “Okay, so let me say this before we continue. I’m usually not a glutton, right? I’m sure you think so, but I’m not. You’re a really good cook and that’s why I’m taking another spoonful from both bowls,” she said.

  “Help yourself,” he said, watching her eat, pleased that she liked it… no, her expression was more she loved it. He smiled.

  “I’ve been diagnosed with cancer. I’ll have to lose both of my breasts. What do you think?”

  “I would stay with you, see it through. Is that the answer you’re looking for?”

  “If it’s the truth, then yes,” she said, smiling.

  “What about my breasts?”

  “What about them?”

  “I could lose them too, you know,” he said, smiling.

  “You are more than your breasts.”

  He laughed. “Okay, I’ve got the hang of your game, I think. Ask me another question,” he said, before taking a forkful of noodles into his mouth.

  “We haven’t had sex in two months, and you, being the stud I assume you to be, are starting to have a little problem with that.”

  “How do you know I’d have a problem with it?” he said when he was done chewing.

  “You seem the type. I can tell, but anyway. I’m with a new baby. What would you do?” she asked.

  “Why haven’t we had sex again?”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “I see. I thought maybe there was a medical reason that prevented it or something.”

  “Nope,” she said, laughing.

  “Then why not again?” he asked, his eyes brimming with humor.

  “The demands of having a baby, I’m too tired, I don’t like the way I look anymore. I haven’t lost the baby weight, and I don’t feel pretty. I’m so huge. I don’t want to,” she said, laughing.

  He laughed too. “I don’t know, sex is a big one for me, a really big one for me. It’s one of the ways I feel connected to whoever I’m with, and especially my wife. I know I’m supposed to say otherwise, that it’s okay and let it go, but I’d be lying. Did I say sex was a big one for me?” he said, and laughed.

  “Yes,” she said, taking a sip of water from her glass, trying to tamp down her feelings. All over the place and so excited to be here, playing her game with him.

  “Just so I’m clear,” he said, and smiled.

  “Crystal,” she said.

  “Do you think it’s a phase you’re going through?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  He sat quiet for a minute, as if he was taking the question seriously. “Okay then. Well, I’d talk to you first about it, and if that didn’t work, I don’t know, I’d talk more. And if you’re the woman I married, you’ll talk back and we’ll figure it out, because that’s how committed we are to each other. Right? We’d make it work for the both of us. But eventually it would need to be there, just saying, unless there is some illness or an accident, then we have to work around it, otherwise…”

  “A deal breaker for you then?”

  “Yes… it would be. Honesty. You asked. How about you?”

  “You’d didn’t say anything about me getting big?”

  “As long as I can still access certain areas, I’m good,” he said, and winked, before he started laughing. She joined in, and it took a while to stop, but when she did, she said, “Not sure it would be the deal breaker as it is for you, but I would like for it to be present in my marriage, too.”

  “I like that about you, Jones, and I like your game. So, it’s my turn,” he said, smiling.

  “Bring it on,” she said.

  “I’m thinking of becoming a naturist?”

  “A what?”

  “A nudist is another word for it. I don’t wear clothes all the time.”

  She started laughing again and it took her another minute to stop. “Oh, for real?” she asked when she stopped.

  “No, hypothetically,” he said, laughing, too. Jones was cute when she laughed, and how had he thought her plain before. Her eyes sparkled like little gemstones when she laughed. He found her funny, open, and honest.

  “When don’t you wear clothes now?”

  “At home mostly…” he said, quiet for a second or two. “Maybe I’d like to try one of those vacations where everyone is nude.”

  “Really? They have those places?”

  “They have one in Austin.”

  “No… really?”

  “Hippie Hollow? I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

  “Nope, I didn’t. Guess I don’t get out much as clearly you do.”

  “Hypothetically, remember. I’ve read about them,” he said.

  “That’s a tricky one. I honestly have never given it any thought. Why?”

  “Why what? Be a nudist,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know. It was an interesting question to ask, that’s all,” he said.

  “Do I have to be one? Can’t you represent the family?”

  “I guess I could, but I would want to be together in that way with my wife.”

  She blew out a breath and looked away. “Wow, I don’t know. I guess I would try it out, if it meant that much to you. Maybe it could be only around you for a while, then I’d see. I don’t know about the kids. I’d have to think about that one,” she said, laughing. “Dang, and I thought my questions were tough,” she said, chuckling.

  “They were. And why the questions anyway? You’ve clearly given this some thought,” he said.

  “To answer your dating question. It’s my way of cutting through the bullshit, you know. It’s me that you see here, this questioning person, the talkative one you’ve seen too. All of that’s me, and I actually need to see how you respond to that woman, not you ’cause you’re not interested in me, but you know what I mean? I need to know that you like me. These questions are also about the tough parts of marriage. I’ve learned that it’s not so much the good times we should worry with, the easy times; who can’t get through those, right.

  “I think that having a partner or a marriage is more about how you handle the trying and bad times, which means you have to be able to talk to each other, about anything and everything. You know, ride or die, till death do us part. That’s what I’m looking for at least and I think honesty is a big requirement for that, so that’s the reasoning behind my questions,” she said.

  “Where does all that come from?”

  “My parents.”

  “They weren’t good examples of getting through the hard times?” he asked.

  “Actually they were perfect, even with leaving us in a difficult spot. It is hard to live in this country for some, where people aren’t paid enough to live. It was not easy financially for my folks, but they were perfect in their love and commitment to each other and to us. That’s what makes it hard for me, knowing what I know, and it makes me less willing to go without it in mine,” she said.

  “I see,” he said, and it was his time to be pensive. “So you and Aubrey,” he said, changing the subject. “She helped you growing up. She’s a good friend?”

  “That was so far out of left field. There is no way it didn’t arouse my curiosity. Why do you ask?”

  “She stopped by last week,” he said.

  “Really? Does she stop by often or was that a first?”

  He laughed. “Why is that funny?” she asked.

  “It just is,” he said. “It was a first. She wants me to train her.”

  “And are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “You know what. Are you going to train her?” she asked, smiling.

  “Don’t think so,” he said, smiling now too. “She’s competitive, your friend,” he said, looking for a way to say Aubrey is not your friend without having to come out and say it.

  “Why do you say it like that? ‘Your friend,’ all hidden meaning or something,” she said, chuckling.

  “Is she your friend?”

  “I thought so… I don’t kno
w, we’ve been different with each other lately, haven’t hung out as much as we used to,” she said, and paused in her eating. “Really it’s not just that, it’s other things that maybe I’ve overlooked or made excuses for over the years. I find myself having to face and explain behavior that I can’t explain, not in any good way, and I’m not sure what to do with those realizations.”

  “That’s probably not a bad thing. Seeing her differently then?” he said.

  “You sound like my sisters.”

  “They don’t trust her either,” he said.

  “So you don’t trust her?” she asked, chuckling. He didn’t answer. “Ever thought you knew someone, only to find out that they are totally different from what you thought, or that you both have very different reasons for being friends?”

  “You’re the friend that needs taking care of,” he said.

  “Ouch,” she said, chuckling again.

  “Yep,” he said.

  “Okay then?” she said, sitting back in her chair.

  “Okay then,” he said, serious and watching the surprise and hurt show itself on her face, sorry to be the one to put it there. “So what happened to your parents?”

  “How did you know something happened to them?” she asked, then realized the answer. “Aubrey again.” Memphis met his eyes. “It’s not something I talk about much. My dad was an artist like you,” she said, smiling. “Played the sax and he was really good. Believe it or not, you remind me of him.”

  “How so?”

  She shrugged. “He was direct like you. You’re late, Jones,” she said, mimicking him. “You say what you mean and mean what you say. I like that about you. You’re easy to talk to, probably would be fun to hang out with. I loved hanging out with my dad. He died from cancer.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Odd jobs, stayed home with us mostly. She was sort of fragile, if that makes any sense; suffered from depression. She didn’t fully recuperate from his death. Committed suicide eventually.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, reaching for her hand.

  “Me too. I miss her. When she was good, she was golden. I miss them both actually. Every day,” she said, and smiled sadly.

  “So you took over?” he asked, releasing her hand.

  “I did. Had to,” she said.

  “That probably wasn’t easy,” he said.

  “I did okay. We did okay. What doesn’t kill you makes you…” she said.

  “Stronger,” he said, and smiled. “Is that the source of your anxiety?”

  She didn’t answer right off, stared into his eyes for a second or two, searching for what he didn’t know. “It didn’t help, let’s say that. I was born cautious, I think, a cautious baby that grew into a scared kid, one who jumped at shadows, and didn’t like conflict. Throw in being clumsy too, so not helpful. Aubrey was my protector from bullies in elementary school. I was always anxious about something or the other and clumsy too. I sort of understood my mom’s inability to deal. It’s not easy sometimes for some.”

  “No, it’s not,” he said.

  “My aunt came to live with us, my mother’s sister, but she didn’t want to. She and my mom weren’t that close, but she stayed until I was seventeen, for which I am forever grateful. But yes, to answer your question, my anxiety increased after her death.”

  The back door opened and in walked Meredith again, interrupting again. “Hey, it’s Jones,” she said, wearing this huge grin.

  “Hi, Meredith,” Memphis said, and smiled. It was hard not to respond to Meredith’s happy attitude.

  “I am interrupting this time,” she said, chuckling. “You can’t see his face, Jones,” she said, pointing to Z, “but believe me he’s not a happy camper.”

  Memphis slid his eyes over to Z, and she didn’t know what Meredith had seen ’cause all she saw was blank. He was his usual unreadable self. “No, it’s late, and I’d better get home,” Memphis said, standing. “Thanks for dinner, Z.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll walk you to your car,” he said, walking to the door with her. Confusion was the emotion he read on her face. It was quiet between them on the walk over to her car.

  “See you Wednesday,” he said, standing by her car door after she was inside.

  “Yep,” she said before backing up.

  He waved and stood watching as she drove away. He and Jones, they could work, he thought and not for the first time. Everything she said this evening had hit him just right, fell into his sweet spot of what he thought he wanted… no, needed in a life partner… wife… woman. She had gotten past his checks and walls erected to defend his heart and it was time to move forward.

  “Sorry,” Meredith said, coming over to stand beside him.

  “Your timing is terrible,” he said, following Jones’s car moving down the road.

  “I like her,” she said.

  “Me too,” he said.

  “Ladies and gentleman, I think we finally have ourselves a winner,” Meredith said, smiling at him.

  “Finally,” he said, smiling too.

  #

  Tuesday

  Z sat at a table in Marisa’s coffee shop the following day, having stopped into his place next door, checking in on the construction.

  “I like Jones,” Marisa said, first thing, as she settled into the chair beside him. “She’s on top of her game. Jumped right into work—sent me a couple of emails already, set up meetings with the caterers and with a couple of the bands from the list I’d given her.”

  “Good,” he said, and smiled.

  “You like this one, and it’s different from Brittany,” Marisa said, smiling. “Although I don’t understand why anyone would choose to put themselves on a football field. I don’t understand that desire, male or female. Is she any good?”

  “She’s getting better.”

  “So that would be a no,” she said, laughing.

  He laughed. “She is improving,” he said, and he meant it, he realized.

  “What about that rule?”

  “She’s not officially on the team. Tryouts aren’t for a few months, so there’s a little room.”

  “Good. Finally a woman for you and I don’t count last year with the Brittany person who was so not for you, but you weren’t hearing anyone.”

  “See how much I’ve grown,” he said.

  #

  Tuesday night

  He stood in front of the glory hole, another name for the furnace he used to shape the remaining bubbles for the second of two bubble-themed chandeliers he’d been contracted to design and create. Three hundred glass bubbles falling from a copper-colored base anchored to the dining room ceilings of Coppers, a new restaurant to open in downtown Austin. Time-consuming to make them all, but worth it and it would be beautiful, an elegant accompaniment to their dining rooms. They were scheduled for delivery and installation on Saturday.

  He would be on hand for the installation, though not to physically complete the install. He had contracted an electrician for this and future local commissions. Meredith would be over soon to help him here until he finished, then she was headed to Colorado, her home base, at the end of the week. A very timely exit, especially since he’d made the Jones decision. It was full steam ahead. He smiled.

  He heard the ding of his cell, signifying an incoming text. It wasn’t Jones with an invitation to do all manner of things to her lovely body. Nope, it was Aubrey with her Hello, and it wasn’t the first he’d received from her or the first he’d ignored. She’d sent numerous versions of greetings since that dinner. He checked it again and did what he’d done the other times before. He didn’t respond.

  SIXTEEN

  Wednesday

  Z stood at the back door of his home watching Jones drag the equipment over to the field. He’d been standing here since her arrival about ten minutes ago. He and Carl, that is. Side by side, they watched her get out of her car. Jones had been in blue today, a soft cobalt dress with a looser skirt fluttering around her hips. Hips that he could prob
ably describe in his sleep.

  She was bending over, straightening out the ladders, now that she had finished rolling them out and connecting them. A good little student, Jones was. Put her mind to her task, she had, and improved way faster than he’d thought possible. Overcoming obstacles, something she’d been doing all of her life.

  “Jones,” he said when he reached her.

  “Coach,” she said.

  “You’re improving,” he said.

  “I know, right. I’m relaxing, I think, and who would have thought that possible?” she said, smiling. “I told you. You work for me,” she said, putting it out there, staring at him, searching for signs that he was taking her bait, not sure what she expected would come of her flirting today but doing it anyway. Charlotte’s encouragement, Monday night’s dinner and conversation, and Meredith’s comments after dinner all helped to lift her hopes that he was interested in her beyond their coach and trainee roles. It was all she could think about since then, trying not to read anything into it, while simultaneously reading everything into it. “I don’t get nearly as stressed at the start as I used to,” she added, smiling.

  Jones was flirting with him, Z thought, at whatever she was doing with her eyes now. He bit back his smile. Jones of the pretty smiles and readable, emotion-filled face was seriously, no-holds-barred flirting with him. It wasn’t her first attempt at flirtation but it was her most obvious and it would be the first time he was going to respond. Dinner Monday had empowered her to go all in, he guessed. He turned his mind back to the training at hand. “More of the same, jogging ladders up and back, scissors, backpedaling,” he said.

  “Until I’m blue in the face,” she said.

  “You have a problem with that?” he asked, smiling.

  “Did I say I had a problem?” she asked, her attitude a tad sassy, and more flirting.

  He laughed. “It sounded like it to me.”

  “Well, I don’t.”

  “Get started then. Until you’re blue in the face,” he said, and smiled. “I’ll be back in a second, left something in the studio.”

  “Yes, sir. Aye aye, captain,” she said, watching him walk away. The same sexy dude as always, wearing jeans and a t-shirt today. He was different today, and not just his attire. He was flirting with her too, and maybe that meant she wasn’t alone in her feelings. He’d felt something too. She was so stoked now, pleased that she’d decided to make her interest in him known. She started into her drill, with major pep in her steps.