by Xavier Neal
“You are our favorite,” Grandmother sassily agrees as Grandfather shuts the door behind me. “And not just because you’re the only one that ever comes to visit.”
Grandfather gives me a warm pat on the back before passing me by. “I was just making tea. Would you like a cup?”
“No, thank you.”
“Did you bring us the cherry bars?” Grandmother asks, sitting down in her rocking chair. “You know they kill the taste of the poison your grandfather puts in my Sunday tea.”
I catch my giggle in my hand.
“It’s herbs, Miki,” he grumps. “Not poison.”
“Then why do they taste like shi-”
“Miki!”
She rolls her eyes at his scolding.
See why I want what both sets have? They’re funny and fun to be around. Besides a little teasing never hurt anyone. Seems to only make their marriages stronger. What? No. Now is not the time to bring up how Chance teased me yesterday.
“No cherry bars today, Grandmother,” I announce as I sit down at the low to the ground table in the middle of their living room. “I stopped by all three bake shops, but none had received their order yet.”
“Strange,” Grandfather comments from their kitchen.
“Unfortunate,” Grandmother echoes and drops her gaze down to me. “Did you already see Bernice and Abe?”
“I did. They send their love.”
She coos and places a hand on her heart. “Did they enjoy the anniversary gift you arranged? It was expensive.”
“How do you know it was expensive?”
“I recall the one you got for our fiftieth.” Her hands fold sweetly into her lap. “The blooming Sakura painting with your father’s name scattered among the wind. We know it was done by a well-known Japanese-American artist. The cost I’m for certain was great, Chīsana ashi.”
The loving nickname, which means tiny foot, receives a warm smile. “Did you and Grandfather love the gift?”
“Of course we did,” he answers on his way into the room with two cups of tea.
“Then it was worth every penny I saved and spent.”
Lots and lots of fucking pennies….
“You are so much like your father,” she sighs. “It’s why your sisters have always disliked you.” Grandmother thanks her husband for the tea with a simple nod. “Which is more their loss than it will be yours.”
Grandfather sits down across from me. “You were always Ka’s favorite.”
“He loved us all.”
“Yes,” Grandfather immediately agrees. “As a man should love his children, but you, Chīsana ashi, were most like him. You understood from a very early age the importance of family and honor over self-servitude and greed. You make him proud every day you give more to others than you do to yourself.”
A lump of tears clog my throat.
Even though I know his soul has found peace wherever The Cosmos has swept him away to, I still miss him tremendously. I do my best to ensure his essence is a very active part of my daily life. The cherry blossom painting that hangs above my bed used to hang above his in college. There’s a framed photo of me, him, and my mother that sits on my bedside. I also have a pair of his old sneakers that I like to think guard the rest of my shoes from harm. The last one is a bit silly, but we all have our little quirks, right?
The conversation shifts to one about different types of tea, and I’m grateful. I only spend another fifteen minutes with them before having to leave for class.
Teaching tantric sex techniques to later in life individuals is one of my favorite things to do. Weird, I know, but sex allows for such a beautiful connection of the body and spirit to occur that I have a natural draw towards wanting to help others experience it. Problem is, when you’re in your 20s, like me, men think they know everything and women aren’t opposed to letting them believe it. Sex for women, which I’ve learned through many conversations and many hours of clinical reading, is most often like fine wine or whiskey. For us, it gets better with age, however, achieving a satisfying orgasm or state of arousal at an early age comes from strong communication and openness with your partner as well as yourself. That’s also something most people my age don’t do very well. Trust me. Rae’s sex complaints make me wanna cry. As for me? On the occasions I do have sex, my partners always leave satisfied while I secretly long for the one who is less concerned with getting to the finish line and more concerned with the amazing ride we had along the way. Chance was oddly enough something unusual. An exception. His desire to give me everything tangled tightly together with how present he was during our experience almost had me coming twice.
Tantric class is followed by two one-hour sessions of yoga. The first is for beginners and those needing a lighter version of certain poses while the second is for the advanced. Afterwards, I grab an early dinner with Lucy, my friend and the woman who happens to run Gold Hills. We catch up like we do every week. She fills me in on her family drama, the never-ending war for who will inherit all of Golden Hills when her father finally returns, and her unhappy break up to make up cycle with Freddie, a high school performing arts teacher. For almost two hours, she describes her soap opera like drama. It isn’t until I’m about to leave for ballroom dancing that she even remembers to ask how my date went. Instead of running the risk of being late or having to watch her face fall when I confess I basically had a one night stand with my perfect match, I give a quick innocent shrug, and a short, “It was different.”
No need to specify to her why it was different or the best date I’ve ever had. Nope. We don’t have that kind of time. We have to get to ballroom dancing.
I stroll into the designated room with three minutes to spare.
As soon as the teacher spots me, he waves, and jogs over to greet. “Hey, Syd. Was wondering where you were.”
“Dinner with Lucy ran a bit long. But I’m here!” I toe off my purple converse and drop my bag beside them. “And I’m ready to Fox Trot!”
“Waltz,” Warren corrects with a smirk. “Fox Trot is next week.”
“Right….”
Attractive? Sure. He’s definitely got a sexy, young professor vibe to him. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Physically fit. Add the glasses he’s wearing and he’s basically a college girl’s teacher fantasy come true.
He offers me another smile and waits patiently to take my hand to lead me to the center of the dance floor. Once we’re there, the class gathers around to begin. Warren explains the warm up movements before pulling the remote out of his pocket to demonstrate them to music. I follow along like everyone else until he gives me a nod to stroll around the room, helping adjust anyone who seems like they need it. Gam Gam and Grandad wink at me, and I simply wink back.
While I don’t get paid to be Warren’s assistant, I do it anyway. What can I say? I like being surrounded by people in love and people who are in love with life.
When warm up is complete, I make my way back to Warren and allow him to use me as his example for how the woman should be positioned for our first move while he explains how the man should be.
Ballroom dancing, unlike my yoga classes, isn’t divided by novice and expert. Everyone is mixed together since the class is only offered once a week. He structures the class to have warm ups, basic moves of the week’s specified dance type, practice, and then free dance, which is my personal favorite. Wait until you see how wacky my grandparents get.
During the practice runs, we waltz around the room, casually helping when needed. For the most part, everyone seems to be handling the steps without issue.
Warren takes the opportunity to strike up a conversation. “I finally got a respectable job.”
My attention swings to him. “Since when is teaching ballroom dancing to the aged not a respectable gig?”
The corner of his mouth kicks upward. “It is, but I don’t do this full time and once a week for an hour doesn’t exactly pay my half of the rent or let me save up to get a place of my own.”
I nod my und
erstanding.
“Honestly? I’m tired of having roommates. It was one thing when it was my best friend, but it’s been hell with every person after that. Male and female.” He lets out a small sigh. “Got a job counseling at a youth center. I’ll mainly be focusing on helping thirteen to eighteen year olds communicate with their parents better about the life changes they’re encountering, coaching parents on acceptance and understanding as well as giving them both tools to deal with the emotional challenges.”
“Whoa,” I whisper out. “That’s….That’s likes a real job.”
Warren lightly laughs. “Yeah. First one since I got my PhD.”
“Proud?”
“Extremely,” he confesses. “The salary is great, too. It’s actually not far from here. It’s over in Sunset Lake.”
“Wow.”
Sunset Lake is where I imagine most of the people in the retirement community used to live or their children live. Both of my sisters reside close to the prestigious area, but not quite in it. The super rich and famous love to live out there because of the incredible private lake. Not that I’ve ever been to it. Just seen the pictures Drewella and Daniella posted when they attended several boat parties last summer.
“Exactly. I’m sure I can’t even afford the doorknob to my new office.”
I shake my head on a giggle.
“But I definitely need to celebrate the change in career. My best friends wanna go out to dinner to celebrate that and their engagement. I was thinking….Maybe…you-”
“Syd?” A voice I’m not certain I could ever get tired of hearing interrupts. The moment I glance over my shoulder my eyes lock onto Chance’s. “Seriously?!”
My grip on Warren loosens. “What are you doing here?”
He starts to answer, but stops when he sees our bodies pressed together.
I swear I see his blue eyes twitch a glare.
You saw it, too?!
Chance pushes down whatever initial emotion that arose and plasters a smile on his face. “What are you doing here?”
“Being an assistant at the moment,” I casually reply. “Kind of a bad one since I’m talking to you instead of dancing.”
“How about I cut in, and you can do both?”
The bold suggestion sparks my smile but causes Warren to take a large step back.
“Have at it. It’s about time for free dance anyhow.” Warren nods at the two of us, makes the announcement, and changes the music to something with a slightly more upbeat tempo.
Chance swiftly extends his hand for me to hold, and I take the offering. While our positioning still resembles the proper stance, it’s relaxed. More natural. Definitely a better fit than the one I had with Warren.
Strange since I have been dancing with him for months. What is it about Chance? Why do I feel like every time we touch it’s like two halves becoming a whole? Like my spiritual guide has found its counterpart?
“Can you waltz?” I question as his hand places itself onto my lower back.
He winks and begins to lead with grace. His moves are traditional based yet possess their own flare. Each execution is a bit more salacious than it should be. Even his spins add a suggestive nature to the typically prim and proper dance. The two of us elegantly move about the small area in the front of the room, becoming less and less aware of our surroundings with each passing step.
“What do you think?” Chance sweetly asks. “Can I waltz?”
A small snicker escapes me. “Little dirtier than normal, but given your career choice, I guess I should’ve expected it.”
The comment receives a crooked smirk. “Would you expect that I learned to do this while wearing a toga?”
“Explain!” I squeak.
He laughs again before continuing, “My parents are nudist. And I was raised among other nudists, however for their twentieth wedding anniversary they wanted to do this big celebration. They wanted our nudist friends to be able to mingle with their non-nudist friends and my aunts and uncles. My dad, who is probably the coolest dude you’ll ever meet, decided on A Midsummer Night’s Dream theme. All the guests had to wear togas. It was hosted in the middle of this camping ground, so it kept the woodsy, magical theme….” Chance’s face continues to illuminate at the fond memory. “I had just turned eighteen, too. Needless to say I was definitely into trouble Shakespeare would’ve approved of.”
“Wild,” I practically whisper.
His expression remains cheerful. “What about you? Where’d you learn to waltz?”
“Here.” An innocent shrug is given. “Few months ago I was leaving from an early dinner with my friend, Lucy, and stopped in to tell my grandparents goodbye. Warren, the teacher, asked did I want to stay and be his assistant. Been doing it ever since.”
“Wait. You just learned to do this a few months ago, and you’re this good?”
I wait until I come back from the spin to confidently retort, “I told you I was a natural athlete. Very in tune with my body.”
“There is no arguing that,” he mumbles, voice glazed in arousal.
Before my own can develop, I look out into the group, instantly catching Gam Gam giving me a nod of approval while Grandad waggles a finger in the air while shaking his hips offbeat.
My chuckle causes Chance to look their direction. “Is that them?”
“Yup. Gam Gam and Grandad.”
Gam Gam makes her eyebrows jump at Chance who simply laughs and offers her a wave.
“She’s something else,” I happily sigh as his stare reconnects to mine.
“Is she why you’re here?”
“Yes and no. I do love to visit them and do it often, but I also work here.”
His expression shifts to shock. “For how long?”
I shrug again. “Couple years now.”
Chance’s mouth moves though no words follow.
“Why do you ask?”
“I’ve been delivering baked goods here on Sundays for the past two years. How is it I’ve never seen you before?”
Abruptly, I halt my movements. “Wait….Are you the guy who makes the dark chocolate, cherry protein bars?”
“You’ve had ‘em?”
“My Grandmother loves them. Um, my other Grandmother. Grandmother. Not Gam Gam.”
He nods slowly as if trying to follow.
“Both sets of my grandparents live in this community.”
Understanding quickly sets in.
“Grandmother was so upset they weren’t here this morning to have with her afternoon tea.”
Chance starts to talk when Warren states to the room, “Class is over! See you all next week!”
Taken off guard at how time seemed to just soar by while in Chance’s arms, I momentarily excuse myself to kiss my grandparents goodbye. Gam Gam makes more lewd expressions and Grandad merely hurries her along to allow me to return to Chance.
However, I maneuver my way over to Warren and offer my assistance, “Need some help packing up?”
He fiddles with the remote in his possession. “Nah, I think I got it today.”
“Still want me to stick around to practice a few moves for next week?”
He cuts Chance’s direction a glance, gives me a sweet smile, and tosses his head towards the door. “Go ahead and go. I’ll show up a little early next week, and we can rehearse then.”
“You sure?”
His eyes steal another glimpse over my shoulder before nods. “Yeah.”
I give him a polite grin and head back towards Chance.
“Everything good?”
“Yeah….Wanna walk me out to my car? Normally, Warren does after we rehearse but-”
“I’d love to,” he swiftly interrupts.
Once I’ve wiggled my shoes on, I sling my bag over my shoulder and pick our conversation back up. “You were about to explain to me why there weren’t baked bars for Grandmother this morning.”
The two of us stroll out of the room towards the exit. “Normally, I get off of work, go grab a drink with som
e of the guys, enjoy some nonprofessional company-”
“Stripper code for one-night stand?”
He chuckles, “I was aiming for subtle.”
“You’ve got very terrible aim.”
Chance laughs again and gives me a good-spirited bump. “Post all of that, I have a power nap, meditate, and then hustle down to the bakery that allows me to use their kitchen on Sundays since they’re closed. I typically drop off treats no later than ten, but for some reason everything was just different. Got off earlier than usual. Went home instead of out. Overslept. And I never oversleep. Couldn’t find the keys to the bakery and then at the bakery one of the ovens was broken, which meant it was going to take a bit more time to get the order complete. It was as if The Universe was purposely doing everything it could to put me behind schedule.” He opens the door, and I walk past him just as he adds, “Or maybe right on time.”
My eyes travel over my shoulder to meet his. “Maybe….”
Could I be wrong? Could the stars be aligning to allow us to have more than the brief moment we did?
Our walk towards my car proceeds, and I casually confess, “I usually visit my grandparents before class. Most of the time I show up a bit after ten thirty.”
“Which is why we’ve never crossed paths before.” All of a sudden, Chance’s hand glides across my lower back to rest on my hip. “But I’m thanking my lucky stars we have now.”
A nervous, warm energy flitters around the pit of my stomach. Instead of countering or agreeing or saying anything that could potentially ruin the moment, I simply relish in it. The softness of his hand. The slight possessiveness of his hold. The flirty glances. Our bodies seem to sync together in step, rhythm, and breath.
As we arrive at my car in the back guest parking lot I’m not sure if the dryness of my mouth is from dehydration or desperation.
I turn to face him, toying with my keys to give my restless mind a bit of distraction. “Thanks for walking me to my car.”
“Thanks for the dance.”
More silence settles between us, and I find myself letting go of the hope that our encounters are more than happenstance.