Enjoy the Dance

by Heidi Cullinan

  Just as he then remembered the lack of it when he’d moved to foster care. Several of his foster moms had tried to hug him, but accepting strangers felt like a betrayal. He couldn’t shake the feeling that if he let himself join another family, his family’s reunion could never happen. In hindsight he suspected this was why he failed to remain at a foster family even before they knew he was gay, but he hadn’t figured it out in time to find himself a real home, not until Clara and Betsy. There’d been no touching at the shelter, nothing welcome—only shoves, flicks against his arm, scuffles in the hallway. No, no one really touched Spenser until one night after he’d aged out of the system, alone in his first apartment, he spent the night prowling the streets to find someone to bring home to it.

  By the time he messed up his life so much he landed in the Avenue’s program with Clara and Betsy, it had been over a decade since anyone had hugged him. He resisted them at first out of habit, but Betsy in particular had a way of wearing him down. They taught him to accept, appreciate, and most precious of all, expect familial touch. Brushes of shoulders, touches of hands, fussing with hair, and hugs. Lots and lots of hugs.

  Tomás, however, was something new. His casual touches had thrilled Spenser since they’d become close through working with Duon, but now that they were dating, Tomás touched Spenser all the time in a way no one else had. Not his sisters, who had needed him. Not Clara and Betsy, who parented him. Not the men he’d taken home to his apartment, who wanted to fuck him or be fucked. It was clear Tomás wanted to sleep with him. But it was equally apparent this wasn’t all he wanted. For the first time in his life, someone touched Spenser not out of need or pity or guidance but want. Patient, unwavering desire.

  This knowledge undid Spenser more than the kisses Tomás trailed down his cheeks, more than the burn of his whiskers as he pressed his lips into the curve of Spenser’s neck. Those were lovely too. But what made him want to purr was the way Tomás looked at him as he drew back, stroking his cheek one last time as he whispered good night, making it casually clear he would wait forever for Spenser, if he had to.

  Nothing was more precious to Spenser in the world than those looks, those caresses.

  They didn’t only meet in Spenser’s kitchen, however. Where they met the most often and for the longest period of time were during Spenser’s dance lessons twice a week, which Laurie had gently badgered him into taking in the studio after hours. Laurie still led the lessons, but more often than not Tomás was present too, sometimes helping, sometimes observing. Laurie taught Spenser tap as well as general dance concepts, focusing on balance and body awareness in addition to some basic steps.

  “Your body is your instrument. Don’t control it. Dwell in it. Feel it. Don’t be upset with what it can’t do or feel ashamed because you don’t understand it yet. You will.”

  Laurie said this every lesson, but the night the two of them were alone in the studio, Spenser wasn’t in the mood to pretend he could dance. Tomás had taken Duon home early to help him with some homework, and Spenser knew by the time he got home, Tomás would be in bed. He resented having this lesson at all, and wasn’t in the mood to hear fantasies about how he could master the skill.

  “I don’t particularly like my body. I never have.” Spenser rubbed his arm as he fixed his gaze on the floor. “I don’t want to dwell in it.”

  “Do you know why you dislike your body so much? Do you not think you’re handsome? Because Tomás in particular would take issue with that comment.”

  Spenser shrugged. “I don’t think I’m ugly, but no, I don’t turn heads at a club. I never have. I don’t care about that, though. I wish I weren’t so awkward and clumsy, so self-conscious.”

  Laurie put his hands on Spenser’s shoulders, briefly as a reassuring touch, but then he pivoted Spenser toward the wall of mirrors. When Spenser flinched and glanced away from his reflection, Laurie gently turned his face back. “You avoid the image of yourself a great deal, I’ve noticed. In fact, you make more mistakes when you’re watching the mirror.”

  He did? Spenser shrugged. “I’m always making mistakes. It upsets me. Doesn’t it everyone?”

  “Not quite like it does you. You’re a perfectionist, which is normal enough. But where you allow yourself growth in teaching and in your caring for Duon, you don’t in dance. In your perception of your body.” Laurie let go of Spenser and moved to face him, so that Spenser saw his reflection beside the real-life Laurie.

  Laurie was beautiful. Poised. Handsome in a lean, feminine way. Beside him Spenser would look like a half-starved troll if he smiled and stood as proudly as he could. Spenser glowered at himself. “It’s easy for you to say that. You’ve done so much. Been everywhere. Even when you’re not dancing, you’re graceful and put together. I haven’t done anything. I couldn’t be anything like you, not if I practiced for the rest of my life. I’m not that way, and I can’t be. I don’t speak up, I don’t dazzle or draw people’s attention. I’m not good for—” He cut himself off before he could blurt out anything else.

  Laurie huffed through his nose. “Put together? I’m sure I can appear so. A lifetime of rigorous training will do that to a person. Plus appearing flawless has always been my shield. I would never presume to name my hell worse than anyone else’s, but I promise you until recently I was lonely, lost, and miserable beneath my veneer. I didn’t look in the mirror and see the man you see in me.” He nodded at Spenser’s reflection. “The thing Ed has taught me most is that the best cure for self-hate is to dare to believe in the vision of someone who sees something more than you are, more than you believe you can be. I look at you, Spenser, and I see compassion. Quiet, abiding compassion and love. You love so much sometimes it hurts. I find those qualities beautiful and powerful, and whether you’re dancing or taking care of Duon or talking with Tomás, when you forget to guard yourself and let it shine, you are more beautiful than anyone who has ever stood on a stage.”

  He put a hand on Spenser’s shoulder. “You don’t have to dance perfectly. You don’t have to be perfect, or outlandish. You don’t have to ride in on a horse to be a hero. You don’t have to stand in the spotlight to be a star. If you save one person, if you shine light for one soul—why is it less than saving two, or three, or four? You know you have done this for Duon. For the children in your classroom. For Tomás, who still works too hard but has a spring in his step now, yearning for the moment when he can spend more time with you. That is who I want to see dance. That is what you bring to the floor. To everyone in your life. To life. Show me that dancer, Spenser.”

  Spenser was dizzy, unsure of how to respond. He felt winded, blindsided—but Laurie led him through the steps again and again, until he couldn’t think anymore, could only follow. He let go, he supposed, but mostly he was so overwhelmed he danced on autopilot, until Laurie declared the lesson over. Laurie’s words echoed in Spenser’s head as he drove to his apartment, rang in his ears as he walked through the crisp late-winter air and down the hall to his apartment.

  Quiet, abiding compassion.

  You love so much sometimes it hurts.

  You are more beautiful than anyone who has ever stood on a stage.

  It wasn’t him, Spenser knew. But he couldn’t chase the words away because they were who he wanted to be. Old ghosts whispered memories, things he wanted to leave behind. They were all live now, dancing around his head, piercing his heart.

  When Spenser entered the apartment, he saw that as he had predicted, Tomás had already left. Duon remained at the kitchen table, however, bent over his homework. He glanced up when Spenser entered, began to give his standard, “Yo, Spense,” greeting, then stopped as he got a good look at his guardian’s face. “Hey, man. You okay?”

  Spenser did what he could to push the melancholy down, but it was like trying to stuff an octopus in a bag. He sank into the chair opposite Duon and rubbed his temples with a sigh. “Laurie got under my skin. Not that he was mean or anything. He stirred things up, is all.”

 
Duon snorted. “He does that.” He shifted in his chair, putting his pen down. “He was trying to find your inner dancer? Show you how to make your own spotlight?”

  Spenser frowned, replaying the lecture in his head. “No. He told me—” Emotion caught him unawares, and he batted it away. “He told me I’m compassionate, that it’s beautiful, and I shouldn’t feel like shining for one person isn’t as grand as…” He wiped a thumb deftly across his eyes to stop his tears, and he laughed to cover them. “Sorry.”

  Duon grew serious. “But you are compassionate. You’re good at it. The best. If I have a shit day at school, I think about how I’ll go home and you’ll be smiling with dinner on the table, asking me about my day. And it was shit, but then I feel like it’s all right. You’re good with that. You don’t just make a safe space. You are one.”

  Spenser wiped his eyes again, but it was useless now. Tears sliding down his cheeks, he took the back of Duon’s hand, gently, and held it as he closed his other over Duon’s palm. He gave a watery smile. “Thank you for listening, Duon. Thank you for being here with me, for being my family. And for frequently being smarter and more put together than the man who’s supposed to be taking care of you.”

  Duon grinned shyly, but with more than a bit of pride. “We cool. We’re here for each other, yeah? You and me. And Tomás.”

  Spenser squeezed Duon’s hand, realizing he was Betsy now, the one offering that precious touch. “It’s an honor to be allowed to care for you. To have you in my family.”

  Now it was Duon who wiped away tears. But he smiled too, and squeezed Spenser’s hand. Then, as if overcome with emotion, Duon stood and took Spenser into his arms. Shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath, Spenser hugged him back.

  When they bid each other good night and went to their respective bedrooms, Spenser didn’t sleep. He lay awake, staring at his ceiling, thinking of what Laurie had said, and Duon. He imagined the whole world as a stage, full of people vying for the center and the bright beam of light. He stopped thinking of how he could endure the spotlight and instead let himself materialize in the shadows, in the wings, opening his arms and beaming light onto those who had quit trying, who had exited the fray and were worn and weary, needing a breath of hope.

  That is the dance I want to dance.

  Tomás was doing okay.

  His life had felt like a million balls in the air since as long as he could remember, and he wanted more out of it, sure, but overall he was fine. His family was healthy. He had Spenser and Duon and Laurie and Ed and the studio. Did he want more time to date Spenser so he felt he could legitimately call the man his boyfriend, maybe find time to do more than kiss and fondle him? Yes. Would he like to take the kids to the park or his mother shopping or sit and have a beer with his dad? Yes. Would it be great to go with Ed and Laurie and everyone to the Minnesota United for All Families meetings to help lobby legislators to make sure the marriage equality amendment passed the statehouse? Obviously, yes. Would he like to not worry every time he saw an unfamiliar car in his building’s parking lot, thinking they were DHS or INS? Hell yes.

  Tomás wanted so, so many things. But he wanted none of them enough to sacrifice his sister for them. Even if she was annoying and borderline dangerous. Even if he did lie awake at night wondering where the line was, what he’d cross to decide he had the right to make the decision for her. He couldn’t square it in a way that let him choose them over her. Couldn’t be sure not acting was as simple as choosing her over them, either. But he wasn’t ready to go there. Not yet.

  So he floated on, but as March wore into April, he began to get tired. So tired he missed steps in dance class and was almost late for his shifts at Starbucks. So tired he sat down for a break at the nursing home and fell asleep without meaning to, and snored away all but the last fifteen minutes of his shift.

  The nurse who found him covered for him, but Ed confronted him at Starbucks the next day, coming in as he was almost done with work and lingering until Tomás was ready to go. Ed joined him as he headed for the door, but once they were in the parking lot, Ed pulled him aside.

  “I need to talk to you about a couple of things, and it’s hard to pin you down lately. You’re more than burning the candle at both ends. You’re out of wick and living on the fumes of your own determination.”

  “I fell asleep for a few minutes, no big. A few floors didn’t get cleaned, toilet paper not changed.” It wasn’t until Ed blinked at him in confusion that Tomás realized Ed wasn’t talking about, couldn’t know about, his falling asleep at the nursing home. He tried to recover. “I’m overworked, yes. This isn’t news.”

  He went for his car door, but Ed stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “The other thing I need to talk to you about is the lawyer we found for you.”

  Tomás’s stomach rolled. He opened his mouth to tell Ed he was good, thanks but no thanks, but nothing came out. He felt dizzy, and he leaned on the car to support himself.

  Ed moved to block the sun, crowding Tomás in a way that was comforting, not threatening. “Hey. It’s okay.”

  It wasn’t close to okay. “I gotta get to the studio. It’s my turn at the desk.”

  “Laurie’s got the desk. He knew I was going to find you.” He jerked his thumb at his car, which was parked a few stalls over. “Come on. Let’s go for a ride.”

  Tomás held up his hands. “I don’t want to go see the lawyer, or Marcus, or anybody. Not right now.” Not ever.

  “I know. We’re going to drive, is all. Talk a little of this out. Push some of this off your shoulders. All right?”

  Tomás didn’t really want to go with Ed, but it was easier to let his body be moved along, to sit shotgun in Ed’s Charger and be driven randomly around the streets of St. Paul, listening to Britney Spears. Listening to Ed talk.

  “Meeting with the lawyer doesn’t set anything in stone. It gives you more information. Vicky’s willing to talk with you too. Explain the situation with the kids, if there’s anything you’re worried about there.”

  “I can’t use my sister for this. That’s a nonstarter no matter how you slice it.”

  “I get this is complicated, and it’s a heavy thing to have on your shoulders. That’s why we’re trying to help. Because it’s more than your sister. It’s not trading her for your parents. The kids are part of this too. And you, bucko. There are a lot of lives your sister’s choices affect, and one of those lives is yours. You have a right to a different path. Speaking up for it for yourself, for your family, hell, for Spenser and Duon—that’s not being selfish. You aren’t responsible for her choices.”

  “Family’s all I’ve ever had. We’ve always been everything for each other. You don’t understand what you ask when you suggest I should betray that.”

  “Isn’t it a betrayal to let her drag you all down?”

  “She’s my sister.”

  “And you’re my friend.” Ed’s voice was sharp, the soft edges gone. They were at a stoplight, and he turned the full force of his conviction on Tomás. “I know we haven’t known each other long, not compared to you and your sister. But you’re more than the teacher Laurie relies on the most. More than the official studio translator. More than the guy who stole my place as Duon’s favorite. Your sister is your family, but you are ours. We have the same right to fight for you.”

  The light turned green, but Tomás didn’t get a respite. Ed kept talking as he angled onto the road leading toward Starbucks. “You’re getting the day off today. Laurie’s covering your classes. I’m giving you the name of a lawyer, and you can either call him or toss the card in your glove box and joyride around the Twin Cities. You can go home and nap. You can chase your sister and give her what for. You can sit in your car and be pissed off at me for making you do this. But you’re going to slow down. You’re going to do one damn thing for yourself and yourself alone.”

  They were at the parking lot now. Ed handed Tomás a card, and Tomás tucked it into his hand without looking at it. “I have to
pick up Duon.”

  “I’ve got that job. Duon already knows—sent him a text.” Ed made shooing motions at him. “Go on. Go take a break.”

  Tomás left the car and got into his own. He drove around aimlessly, feeling anxious and more than a little lost. What was he supposed to do with himself now? He couldn’t go home. His mother would ask him what was wrong, and anyway, the kids would be there, running around at full steam. He’d watch them and think about how he had the phone number of a man who would help him betray their mother. He could go to Halcyon and burn off some frustration at the gym, but Vicky might find him and have the conversation Ed had threatened him with. So he kept driving.

  He hadn’t meant to end up at Spenser’s school, or at least he hadn’t consciously decided to go there. Once he arrived, though, he glanced at the dashboard clock and the lineup of yellow buses and parents in cars and thought that this seemed to be about the time school got out.

  And there was Spenser’s car.

  Tomás parked on the side street near the teacher’s parking lot, turning on the radio and trying to look like a parent, not a hot mess someone might mistake for a child predator. He acknowledged he was a rather unkempt, Latin man of significant stature in a car, implying he couldn’t afford private school for his theoretical children. He stepped on the voice that whispered he should leave, send Spenser a text, and ask him to dinner. He imagined his actual nieces and nephew, pretended to be the not-so-wealthy lovable uncle who was pinch-hitting for his sister.