by Gary Smalley
She put her cell phone back in her purse. She had just called Michele, hoping she could talk her into going through with this. “You should definitely do it, Mom,” she’d said. “Especially if they’re giving you the first two classes free. What do you have to lose? If you hate it, just don’t go back.”
As she walked across the parking lot, she glanced at her low-heeled leather shoes, glad she already had a pair in her closet. The brochure had recommended them, but she didn’t have the money for a new pair, so she’d snuck back in the house on her lunch break. While there, she grabbed a pleated skirt and close-fitting blouse, which the brochure had also recommended.
Up ahead, three middle-aged couples, the women dressed in similar attire, walked through a breezeway to the street entrance. She followed them. As she walked past the big glass studio windows, she was alarmed to find the curtains had been pulled back. Now everyone walking or driving by could see inside.
One of the husbands held the front door open for her.
“Do they keep those curtains open during class?” she asked.
“All the time,” the man replied. “Roberto only closes them when no classes are scheduled. He said he opens them because we all need to get used to the idea of people watching us when we dance. Because after he’s taught us well, ‘no one will be able to keep their eyes off you as you glide across the dance floor.’” He said this last part in a mock-Spanish accent. “I think he does it for the free advertising.”
“Thanks,” she said and stepped inside. Great. Now she was even more nervous.
The studio looked as it had yesterday, except all the lights were on. The wood floor glistened, and light music played in the background. A row of cushioned chairs had been lined across the seam where the carpet and dance floor met. Eight to ten people were already sitting in the chairs, and soon the three couples she had come in with had joined them. She did the same. That’s when she noticed. She looked around once more to be sure. But there was no doubt about it.
Marilyn was the only one there without a partner.
Roberto had lied to her, or else he’d wildly exaggerated. He’d said people without partners came in all the time. But she was the only one alone. He had gotten the average age right. Most were her age or older, except two younger couples on the end, who looked to be in their twenties. But how could she learn to dance without a partner?
She wanted to leave, to get up right now and walk out the door. Roberto hadn’t come out yet. Just then, an elderly woman walked through the front door. But what good would that do? Was she supposed to dance with this woman? That would look silly. And Marilyn was at least six to eight inches taller, which meant she’d probably get stuck playing the man’s role. How could she learn her part if she had to figure out the man’s steps?
No, this wouldn’t work. This was a mistake. It was time to leave. She was about to bend down for her purse when several people sitting on chairs began greeting the woman like she was a dear friend.
“Audrey, how nice to see you.”
“Audrey, you came. I’m so glad.”
“Hello, Mrs. Windsor, are you staying for the whole class?”
The woman responded to the greetings as she set a big black purse on the desk.
Mrs. Windsor? Marilyn thought. She turned around to get a better look at the woman. She did look familiar. Then she remembered. This was the woman she’d met at Giovanni’s last Sunday, when she’d eaten with Michele, the one who’d loved her music box and gave her the card about the studio.
“Oh, hello, Audrey. So nice of you to come.” It was Roberto. He peeked his head in from the office doorway. She nodded and smiled at him. “Class, I’ll be right there. Sorry I’m running a little late. Did everyone sign in? If not, make sure you do. The clipboard is right on the desk. Audrey, would you be a dear and show them? And everyone, make sure you make a name tag for yourselves. I’ll be back in a few minutes, and we’ll get started.” And he was gone.
Three or four people stood, so Marilyn did too. This was her chance to slip out. They went one way around the chairs toward the desk; she went the other way toward the front door.
“Oh, hello there.”
Marilyn looked. Audrey was speaking to her.
“I’m so glad you came. I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name. We’ve met, remember? At the restaurant. What was it, Sunday evening? You had the music box, right?”
Marilyn smiled and walked around the chairs toward her, holding out her hand. “I don’t think we actually exchanged names. But you gave me the card to the studio.”
“That’s right.” Audrey shook her hand. “I guess you know my name’s Audrey.”
“And your last name is Windsor,” Marilyn said. “This used to be your studio?”
“Yes, well . . . me and my late husband’s.”
“He was a great singer,” Marilyn said.
“And a fabulous dancer,” Audrey replied. Her eyes momentarily drifted upward as if catching a brief memory floating by.
“My name is Marilyn. Marilyn Anderson.”
“Very nice to meet you, Marilyn. Are you enjoying that music box?”
“Very much. So, do you come here often?”
“A few nights a week anyway, just to watch or help out if I can. Here, let’s go have a seat.” She walked toward the line of chairs. Marilyn followed. Her plan of escape had been thwarted, at least for the moment.
They sat beside each other. People began chatting. Marilyn decided to be bold. “Can I ask you something?” She spoke just above a whisper, hoping Audrey would get the hint.
Audrey leaned toward her. “Sure, anything.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m the only one here without a partner. Except you, of course. Roberto told me lots of people come without a partner, but look . . . it’s not true.”
Audrey bent forward and looked down the line of chairs. “Well, it doesn’t look like he had that one right. Not tonight anyway.” She sat back. “If he told you ‘a lot of people,’ that might have been an exaggeration. But I’ve been here when people have come alone. Even some of these couples will have a reason to come alone some nights. One of them might be sick or have to work.”
“But what about a night like tonight?” Marilyn asked. “Will I just be sitting here watching everyone? Roberto doesn’t expect you and I to dance together, does he?”
Audrey smiled. “No, I don’t think so. But you don’t have to worry about it tonight, anyway. Usually, he starts off showing everyone how it’s done, then he’ll have the men and women come up separately to work through their steps with him. My guess is, there won’t even be time after that for the couples to do the steps together. I could be wrong, but why don’t you just wait and see?”
Marilyn sat back, only slightly encouraged. That might be okay for tonight, but what about the rest of the time?
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen . . . I’m back.” Music began filling the studio, and Roberto literally whirled past them onto the dance floor, holding the hand of a beautiful young woman. Everyone watched in amazement as he spun her around and then led her in the most beautiful waltz Marilyn had ever seen. It was breathtaking, like something she’d only seen before on TV.
Audrey leaned over and whispered, “Like I said, Roberto likes to start off showing everyone how it’s done. That’s Angelina, a stage name, I think. She’s one of the jazz instructors. She’ll probably leave right after this dance.”
Sitting in his Audi across the street, Jim glared through the big picture windows at the scene.
Marilyn was sitting next to an older woman and seemed mesmerized by some handsome Latin man on the dance floor.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
21
After “showing everyone how it’s done,” Roberto introduced Angelina to the class then released her to go home for the night. After she left the room, he said, “Please don’t be intimidated by my dance with Angelina. That was not my intention. In fact, it’s just the o
pposite. I want to encourage you to believe in yourself and in your own potential for the days to come. There was a day when Angelina and I were both in your shoes, sitting nervously in chairs, awaiting our first dance lesson. Everyone starts at the beginning.”
Marilyn heard him but still felt intimidated.
Her anxiety was relieved a bit by what he said next. “Since we’re at the beginning, our ballroom dance class will start with the waltz, but we’ll play a slower number than you just heard. And we won’t start off dancing as couples. May I have all the men on my right side across the back, and all the women on my left?”
Audrey Windsor leaned over and whispered, “See? I knew you had nothing to worry about.” Marilyn smiled and stood, along with everyone else except Audrey. She looked down at Audrey. “You go on,” Audrey said. “I already know these steps.”
Over the next hour, Roberto stood in front of the class, his back facing the street. He alternated between the men and women, demonstrating the basic dance steps for each. Then he challenged the class to imitate what they had just seen. After, he had just the men get up and worked with them. In about ten minutes, he said he’d do the same with the women.
Marilyn was absolutely loving it.
The whole atmosphere was light and cheery with plenty of laughter. Mostly people making fun of themselves after getting something wrong. And there was plenty of that going around, which made her feel even more at ease. Roberto weaved through the men, giving specific comments and encouragement. He showed tremendous patience, especially with one elderly man who appeared to have no sense of rhythm. No matter how many times Roberto repeated the steps, he didn’t get it.
“Move on to the next one, Roberto,” the man’s wife said from the chairs. “Gordon’s hopeless. That’s why I’m wearing steel-toed shoes.” Everyone laughed.
Finally, Roberto said with a smile, “Nice, Gordon, you just keep working on that.”
The music stopped. “Okay, men, have a seat. Ladies, your turn.” Roberto walked back to the office to restart the music loop.
As soon as the music began, Marilyn could feel her legs wanting to do the steps. She was getting it; she was actually getting it! Roberto walked to the front and mimicked the ladies’ part. “Nice, ladies, very nice.” He watched them attempt to repeat his example. “Right foot back, left foot to the side, closing on three. Right foot down, left foot up. Good, now left foot back, right foot to the side, close on three. Very good, now keep it going.” He began walking between them. “Feel the music, that’s right. You’re all doing just fine.”
When he walked by Marilyn, he said, “You’re a natural, Marilyn. Look at you. Beautiful, just beautiful.” He said nice things to some of the others, but nothing as strong as that. She kept flowing with the music, counting her steps, as his words repeated in her head. He meant you’re dancing beautifully, she said to herself. He wasn’t talking about how you look. Was she that desperate for a compliment that she had to even wonder about this?
She looked at Audrey still sitting in her chair. She was listening to Gordon explain something but looked up and saw Marilyn, nodded then smiled. Marilyn glanced back at Roberto as he made his way through the group toward the front. When he walked past her, he said, “Splendid, Marilyn. Just splendid.”
See, he was talking about your dancing, not your looks. But he kept looking at her as he reached the front; then he smiled as if he was holding back something he had wanted to say. No, just stop it. That’s not what’s going on here.
“We’re almost out of time, everyone. So ladies, you may take a seat.” They stopped dancing and turned toward the chairs. “Except you, Marilyn, if you don’t mind. Would you stay up here, please?”
Marilyn was shocked, but she obeyed. What was going on? What did he have in mind?
He walked toward her. “I thought it would be a good idea, class, if I gave you a clear picture of what this first, basic step looks like as a couple dancing together. That way you can practice between now and next week at home. Marilyn, would you step up here, please, and join me?”
“Me?”
“Yes, I noticed you already have these steps down pat.” He raised his left hand in the air. “Gentlemen, we begin by raising our left hand in the air like this. Marilyn, would you grasp my hand with your right hand, gently. There, very good.”
She couldn’t believe it. She was holding another man’s hand. She was about to dance with someone . . . for the first time since she and Jim had begun to date over twenty-seven years ago.
“And now I put my right hand around her shoulder blade, like so. Marilyn, if you’ll step just a little closer.”
She did. She was so nervous.
“And now, rest your left arm on mine. Just like that.” He looked toward the class. “Do you see this, everyone?” He looked back at Marilyn. “Now just one step closer, Marilyn, and we’re ready to begin.”
She carefully took that step. She could feel the warmth of his body, even smell his cologne. “Don’t be nervous, my dear. You’ll see, this is as easy as eating pie.” He turned toward the class again. “Now she will simply do the exact same steps she was doing on her own, but in response to me.” He began to move, and Marilyn followed. “Step, side, close. Step, side, close. Step, side, close.” Just that quick, and they were already across the dance floor. He stopped, let go of her hands, and faced the group again. “Do you see how simple it is?”
Marilyn stood beside him, unsure what to do next. She was suddenly aware that every eye in the class seemed focused on her.
“Of course,” Roberto said, “I have many other things to cover with you, which we’ll pick up next time. But essentially, we keep following these same steps all the way through the song.” He turned toward Marilyn. “And how about my partner, ladies and gentlemen? Didn’t she do a wonderful job? Let’s give Marilyn a big hand.” Everyone clapped.
Marilyn looked away, embarrassed by the attention. That’s when she saw him. To her left, through the big picture window closest to the front door. She saw a mirrored reflection of the dance studio, but through it, there standing under a streetlight, his arms folded . . . was Jim.
He was glaring at her.
She knew that look. She hated that look.
“So class, that’s it for tonight,” Roberto said. “You all did a wonderful job. Keep practicing these basic steps, over and over, until they become second nature to you. And if you can, practice them together, just like Marilyn and I did a moment ago. If you don’t have any music at home like this to dance to, we have a CD you can buy. All the songs you danced to tonight are on it.”
He looked at Marilyn again. “You were wonderful, my dear. I notice you don’t have a dance partner with you. Didn’t you ask about this when we first met?”
“Yes. I’ll be taking the classes alone, but I guess that’s not going to work. Looks like I’m the only one without a partner.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “You dance beautifully. I’ll be your partner.”
Marilyn didn’t know what to say. “Really?”
“It would be my honor.” He looked over at a group standing by the desk. “Now I must go. It looks as though a few people want to buy the music CD.” He reached for her hand as if he was about to dance again, lifted it, and kissed it gently. Then he walked away.
Marilyn’s eyes snapped toward the picture window.
Jim was gone. She was relieved. Maybe he didn’t see. She heard the front door open and looked.
It was Jim walking into the studio.
22
That’s it! Jim thought. Enough’s enough.
He’d sat there almost the entire time watching the dance lesson, first in his car, then by the sidewalk. He’d suspected something was brewing between Marilyn and someone. Watching her and that Latin guy flirt outside the studio the other day seemed to confirm it. But during the first half of the dance class, Jim had talked himself out of it. She was just out there on the dance floor with the rest of the ladies. Then he noticed how
every time the instructor got near Marilyn, he said something that made her smile.
It got worse—all the other ladies sat down. Except one.
Watching Marilyn dance with this guy, the way they looked at each other. It was too much. And then that kiss.
As Jim walked through the glass door, he told himself to calm down. Like Mort Stanley said, blowing up in front of a bunch of witnesses would only make things worse if this ended in divorce. But she was all done putting him off. If there wasn’t anything going on with Mr. Latin Lover, she should have no problem telling Jim where she was living. At the very least, she had to agree to go with him for counseling. Anything less than that? Well . . . he might have to get in this Latin guy’s face, after all.
He turned to find her in the crowd. People were gathering their things. Some were talking to the instructor, who sat behind the desk. There she was, looking right at Jim, her face almost in a panic. Guilty eyes.
“Jim,” she said.
He forced a smile. “Can I have a word with you, Marilyn?” He let out just a little edge.
She picked up her purse and walked toward him. “What are you doing here?”
“I just want to talk. Maybe we should go outside.” He looked around quickly. Except for one old woman, no one noticed them. He turned and went back out the door, certain she would follow. He heard her footsteps behind him.
A young couple, holding hands and Starbucks cups, walked by on the sidewalk. He nodded and smiled. A small group of college kids walked the other way. Turning around, he saw her standing a few feet from the door. He remembered the breezeway a little farther down in the row of storefronts, just beyond the studio. Pointing to it, he said, “Let’s talk there.”
“I don’t know if I want to,” she said.
Her words sounded firm, but he saw the same panicked look in her eyes. He took a few steps toward her. “If you don’t want me to make a scene here, you’ll follow me to that breezeway.” He turned and started walking. He heard footsteps behind him again. Good. When he got halfway down, he stopped and faced her. “So, what’s going on?”