Enjoy the Dance

by Heidi Cullinan

  “No. It’s not fine.” She went to the freezer, pulled out a plastic tub, and slammed it into his hands so she could shake a finger at him. “I know what I’m talking about. Listen to your mother. Be a good boy. Take your time with Spenser.”

  She scolded him in Spanish all the way across the hall, until they were in the apartment again, at which point she smiled brightly, as if she hadn’t been chewing him out for five minutes straight. “Eat, boys,” she said in English, then gazed meaningfully at her son. “Eat, and Tomás will come home.”

  She left them then, knowing full well the damage had been done. But Spenser looked bewildered, not annoyed. In fact he seemed almost amused. “What was that about?”

  Tomás didn’t know how to varnish this one, so he laid it all out. “She thinks if we have sex too soon, we’ll ruin any hope for a relationship. And she likes you.” His cheeks heated as he added, “I do too.”

  “Oh my gosh. That’s…that’s so sweet.” He pressed his hands over his mouth as if holding back a prayer. “Oh, Tomás. I’m in love with your mother. Your whole family. I’m so jealous.”

  Tomás, his throat thick, took Spenser’s hand. “In case you missed it, this was her way of welcoming you into it.”

  They kissed then, a soft meeting of mouths…and then they ate empanadas and ice cream, and drank peach tea. They were almost shy with one another now, barely speaking, smiling at each other then glancing away. Tomás thought several times about trying to resume his seduction, his mother be damned, but he frankly feared how she’d interrupt him the next time.

  So they had one last kiss at the door, lingering but almost chaste. He didn’t take Spenser into his arms, only held on to his elbow, anchoring himself as he went in for another taste of Spenser. And then another. And another.

  Spenser broke the kiss, blinking slowly, letting his breath out on an unsteady sigh. He smiled at Tomás with the same lightness he’d had as they’d entered the apartment. “Can I have another date, Tomás?”

  Tomás grinned back at him. “You get as many dates as you want, sweetheart.” He ran his knuckles gently down the slope of Spenser’s cheek. “As many as you want.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Spenser practically floated through the rest of the weekend, caught up in thoughts about Tomás and their Bryant-Lake date. He hummed as he did his chores and made Duon’s favorite meal when he came home from the dance clinic on Sunday. Caught himself smiling at odd moments. Obsessively checked his texts. Tomás didn’t send too many, as he was either sleeping or working, but each buzz of his phone sent Spenser’s spirits a little higher.

  Can’t wait until this shift is over. How’s your Sunday going?

  Spenser bit his lip as he replied, but his smile couldn’t be stopped. Good. We’re watching a movie.

  Oh yeah? What movie?

  Big Hero 6. Duon’s request, but I like it too.

  Wish I could be there watching with you guys.

  I do too.

  Still thinking about kissing you. Want to do it again as soon as possible.

  He did kiss Spenser that night when he was home from his Starbucks shift. He looked dazed, his eyelids trying to close and force him into sleep, but before Spenser could point out he should go to bed, Tomás cupped Spenser’s face and kissed him long and slow and sweet, right there in the doorway.

  When he pulled back, he grinned. “Yeah. Gonna sleep so much better now.”

  Spenser slept well too, waking up smiling like he was some kind of fool. He didn’t care. At school, he greeted the other teachers and support staff with a cheery “Good morning.” He even had goodwill toward Dr. Harvey, who approached him about finalizing the plans for Laurie coming to give his dance demonstration.

  “He’s clear for whenever he wants to come,” Harvey said. “And if he wants to give an all-school assembly, we’d be happy to do that as well.”

  “I think he wants to keep it a small group.” Spenser did his best to end the conversation. “Thank you, Dr. Harvey.”

  Harvey put a hand on Spenser’s shoulder. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you, Harris. I’ve noticed you haven’t been to any of the rally meetings.”

  Spenser did his best to blank his expression. The rallies Harvey referred to were an extension of the former pro-amendment forces, a teacher-parent group lobbying lawmakers to resist the push in the legislature to sign full marriage equality into state law. “I hadn’t realized they were mandatory.”

  “Of course they’re not mandatory. But as a member of our community, I assumed you would be interested in the call for morality.”

  Spenser wasn’t sure if this was a trap, if Harvey had heard a rumor, or even a truth, and wanted to rid himself of one of his resident gays. He resurrected his dismissive smile. “I’ll tell Laurie he’s clear to come for a demonstration.”

  Harvey didn’t say anything more, but Spenser knew he hadn’t heard the last of the issue.

  Laurie ended up coming to his class Wednesday of that week, right away in the morning since in the afternoon he had classes. After he changed into his dance clothes, they pushed the desks to the edges of the room, making as large a demonstration space as possible.

  “Thank you for coming,” Spenser said as they waited for the children to arrive. “The children will absolutely love this.”

  Laurie winked. “I hope you have at least a little fun too.”

  The bell rang and the halls and then the room filled with children. As Spenser’s students entered, they whispered and pointed at the strange arrangement of the furniture, at the newcomer to the classroom. Many of the children were so overcome they didn’t know what to do with themselves and forgot everything about the protocol of putting their things away.

  Spenser greeted them all and then prompted them back into formation. “Hang your coats on your peg, put your lunch pails on top of your cubby, and put your bags inside your bin. Then stand in your place on the yellow line.”

  A girl in pigtails looked almost overcome with distress. “But, Mr. Harris, our desks are all smooshed together.”

  “I understand that, Felicity. This is why I told you to stand in your place on the yellow line.”

  “But we only use the line for recess and lunch and specials,” a boy pointed out, dubious.

  “Normally this is true. But today we are using it for something else. We have a guest in our room today.”

  Now the whispers focused on Laurie, who was seated at Spenser’s desk on the far side of the room. Bit by bit the students settled down in their places on the line with only a minimum of pushing and shoving and whining. Once the final bell rang, Spenser took attendance and hot lunch count, then addressed his students for the morning greeting.

  “Good morning, class.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Harris,” they echoed.

  He smiled at them. “It’s lovely to see you again. You’ve noticed something special is happening today. We’ll do weather and day of the week after first recess, but first we have a guest in our room.” He shifted his body so he could make eye contact with both Laurie and his students. “This is my friend Laurie Parker. Will you say good morning to Mr. Parker?”

  They replied in nearly unison singsong. “Good morning, Mr. Parker.”

  Laurie stood and made a graceful bow. “Good morning. It’s lovely to meet you.”

  Spenser gestured to Laurie. “Mr. Parker is a ballet dancer. He’s performed all over the world, and now he has a dance studio in Eden Prairie and another here in St. Paul. Today he’s here to dance with us.”

  There was a susurrus from the students as Laurie moved to the center of the room, but they quieted when he began speaking. “Today I’m going to teach you some dances.”

  Felicity’s hand shot into the air, but she spoke at the same time, too excited to be called on. “I tooked dance class before.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Laurie scanned the group. “Has anyone else taken dance class already?” A few hands went up, and he nodded encouragingly. “Exc
ellent. We’re going to learn more dancing today, but first I’m going to demonstrate for you, and then we’re going to dance together. Would you like that?” They chorused yes, and he smiled. “Let’s start with ballet. This is the type of dancing I’ve done most.”

  He motioned to Spenser, who was stationed at the stereo. The opening notes of a piano solo drifted through the speakers, slow and easy. The class oohed and ahhed as Laurie began to dance, first in slow, graceful steps, then leaping, twirling, and arcing in a mesmerizing performance. When the song, which wasn’t long, ended, he nodded to Spenser, the cue to pause as he addressed the students.

  “There are a number of types of ballet. I can dance fast or slow. I can dance to make you feel happy or sad, or to make you laugh. Watch this one.” This time when Spenser started the music, the piano was more playful, and Laurie moved almost comically, his facial expressions and gestures indeed making the children giggle.

  He bowed when he finished, and then he sat down and changed his shoes. “There are other types of dance, though. The dance I’m about to do now is called jazz. See if you can tell how the movements are different in this one.”

  The next song opened with a slow saxophone solo before breaking out into something that felt very 1940s, full of swing and fluidity. So were Laurie’s movements, radically different now—jerky at times, controlled but freer, more wild. It reminded Spenser of a far more sophisticated version of the dance he’d done with Tomás. He liked it, but it brought back too many uncomfortable memories of how he’d become embarrassed and failed to show up for his lesson, and he was distracted as Laurie led the students in a comparison of the types of movements between the two dances.

  “For the next dance,” Laurie said, his tone waking Spenser from his trance, “I need the hard floor where you’re sitting, because the carpet won’t work.”

  A girl raised her hand high in the air, and Laurie called on her. “Why do you need the hard floor, Mr. Parker?”

  “Because I’m going to give you a tap demonstration, and the taps won’t make noise on the carpet.” He pulled a pair of black shoes with silver taps out of his bag and showed them to the line of students. Then he brought out his ballet shoe and jazz shoe too, displaying all three for their rapt attention. “The light brown shoe is my ballet slipper. I used it for the first dance. The soft shoe is my jazz shoe. The tap shoe is more rigid. Do you feel the stiff piece inside? That’s the soundboard. It’s what helps the taps make noise. Do you want me to make some noise for you with my feet?”

  Of course the children all insisted they did, so Spenser helped rearrange them in a semicircle on the carpet facing Laurie, who took their place on the yellow line in front of the cubbies. “I’m not quite as good at tap as I am at ballet or jazz. But I do enjoy it. That’s the beautiful thing about dancing. You don’t have to be the best at it, or even good at it, to enjoy it. All you need to do is move your body and have fun.” He winked at Spenser. “When you’re ready, Mr. Harris.”

  Spenser faltered as he fumbled for the play button, knowing that last bit had been a nudge at Spenser more than it had been instruction for kindergarteners. But once the music began to play, he forgot everything, could only watch Laurie dance.

  The song was quite fast. It had a lot of piano and a kind of jazzy feel, but it was different than the song Spenser had danced to with Tomás. This felt like something out of an old movie where the leads…well, tap-danced. And that’s what Laurie was doing. Moving back and forth along the yellow line, tapping, spinning, sliding his feet in time to the music. The children became animated, laughing and clapping and getting excited. The tap dance was so much more involved, Laurie making funny faces at the children and at Spenser, a constant stream of motion. Sometimes the music would shift and so would his dance—there was one refrain, only a bar or two, where the music nearly evaporated and Laurie did this sort of pigeon-toed jump—but mostly it was perpetual motion, the click of his taps punctuating every step.

  It was a fun, brilliant demonstration, and it made Spenser itch. He didn’t realize he was tapping his toe until he looked down and saw it. He watched Laurie tap dance and wished, with a yearning that surprised him, that he could dance like that too. When the dance was over, Spenser was disappointed.

  He rose to stop the player, but Laurie shook his head as he removed his tap shoes and put his ballet slippers on again, addressing the class all the while as an ambient song began to play from the stereo.

  “You watched me dance three dances. Would you like to dance now?” When the children gave him an eager chorus of yes, he smiled. “Good. All right, I want everyone to stand up. That’s right. Now I want you to make your circle big, so big you can stretch your arms out and not touch your partner. Oops, I see some people need to keep moving on this side. That’s better. Please leave a space for me, and one for Mr. Harris.”

  Spenser snapped to attention. “Oh, I don’t—”

  “Oh, but you do, Mr. Harris. That’s right. Everyone get into place. You hear the music playing? It’s soft and pretty, to get us started. I want you to listen to this song. Maybe close your eyes, see if you can hear it better in the dark. Listen to the music and ask your body how it wants to move to the sound. Don’t move yet. Listen.”

  Spenser did the exercise too, from his place in the circle. He hadn’t meant to, but when he closed his eyes and listened, he couldn’t help it. He imagined himself tap dancing. It didn’t make any sense, because it wasn’t a tap-dance kind of song. But it was what he saw, what his body longed to do.

  “Good. Okay, keep your eyes closed. Raise your hand if your body heard the music and wanted to do something like ballet. Oh, how nice. A lot of hands. How many of you wanted to do jazz? I see. Now, I know Mr. Harris imagined tap dancing, but did anyone else?”

  Spenser’s eyes flew open, but Laurie paid him no attention. His focus was on the children, some of whom had their hands up.

  Laurie nodded. “And how many of you didn’t imagine any of the dances? How many made up your own?”

  Some of the students who had their hand up for tap put their hand up again—they were the habitual hand-raisers, and it didn’t surprise Spenser. But some of them were indeed free spirits who would have danced to their own style.

  Laurie moved out of the circle, tapping students on the shoulder as he went. “If I touch your shoulder, that means it’s your turn in the center to dance with me. When the song changes, those of you that I tapped can come out and dance in the middle. Everyone will get a turn, and everyone will dance. No one will laugh at anyone else’s dance, unless they’re dancing in a way that you can tell they mean to be funny. And if someone laughs at your not-funny dance, it’s okay, it means someone else got something different out of your dance than you meant. When you’re not dancing in the middle, you can dance in your space, so long as you don’t pick up your feet. Oh, I hear the song is about to change. Ready? Let’s dance.”

  This song was faster, still ambient, but there were also words, subtle and in the background. The children who had been chosen to dance with Laurie went eagerly into the middle and began doing exaggerated, terrible copies of things they’d seen Laurie do, or remixes of their own. After thirty seconds, Laurie tapped new dancers and sent the first crew back to their circle positions. In the second group two girls began proudly doing what looked to be actual dance routines, and Laurie praised them for using certain steps properly. Then he switched the group out again, and again, until all the students had danced.

  “Well done, dancers. You’re all having a good time, and that’s the most important part of dancing. Yes, we want to make sure we do the steps of our routine correctly when we’re performing, but sometimes we dance only for fun, like we are today. You can take dance classes at studios like the one I run, but you can also dance for yourself. At home, at recess—whenever you want to feel your emotions with your body.” He glanced at the stereo. “Ah, we’re about to switch songs. And for this one I need Mr. Harris.”

  Spenser w
anted to object, but Laurie only grabbed his hand and brought him out as a new song began to play. Laurie leaned in close.

  “None of your students speak French, do they?”

  Spenser shook his head. “No, they don’t. But, Laurie, I don’t—”

  Laurie stepped away, taking up a position across from Spenser. “Mr. Harris,” he said to the class, “is going to play follow the leader with me. I’m going to perform a dance step, and then he’s going to perform it too. Sometimes he’s going to have a hard time. But we don’t laugh at people trying. We encourage them and help them do better. Okay. Ready? Let’s go.”

  Laurie held his hands up, did a movement back and forth across the carpet, crossing his feet one in front of the other. When he looked expectantly at Spenser, he put up his hands and did his best to mimic the movement, because it was the only thing possible for him to do in that moment. When Laurie praised him, the children clapped. Then Laurie did a similar but slightly different movement in the other direction, and ended with a turn.

  Spenser copied him—mostly. Then he did it again when Laurie did another step, and another. He became so absorbed in watching and trying to copy he forgot to be nervous, and after a while he began to legitimately have a bit of fun. They were easy steps, but they were satisfying to do. When Laurie caught him smiling, he let it turn rueful in anticipation of an I told you so.

  Laurie said nothing of the sort, only stood beside Spenser, body still moving to the beat. “Now we’re going to do one together. This is called the step-ball-change. A very easy step. Yes, like that, Mr. Harris. And now we’ll add a box step. Well done. Now we’ll repeat the steps and end with another step-ball-change and a turn.”

  They kept dancing, and all the while a male singer belted out a tenor line in French. Spenser had no idea what the words meant, except he seemed to be telling someone named Emily to dance in a sexy French accent. It helped, in a strange way, that he couldn’t understand the words. It fit with what he was doing, feeling his way through the dance to an unfamiliar song in a language he didn’t understand. Sometimes, yes, he completely messed up the dance step. But those became almost his favorite parts because his students encouraged him then. “You can do it, Mr. Harris!”