“But she doesn’t have to treat any of us with respect? Mama, I’ve given up my life to cover for her mistakes. We all have.”
Renata sighed and sat beside Tomás, still holding his hand. “You are a good boy. Your sister has treated you poorly, and I have told her this. But you need to understand—if I tell her that too much, she doesn’t start behaving. She leaves. Why do you think she left this time?”
“I don’t know. I assumed her boyfriend offered her a trip somewhere more exciting than Minnesota.”
“No. She left because your father got angry with her. Told her how much you work. Told her she needed to be a better parent. He spoke from anger and hurt and frustration, and she left in tears.” Renata’s eyes weren’t exactly dry either as she squeezed Tomás’s hand. “Alisa has made bad choices, but life has been hard to her. She falls in love too easy, and the men she gives her heart to keep breaking it. She gave into the escape of drinking and drugs, and now she can’t stop herself. She is lost, yes. But what should I do? Kick dirt in her face and turn away? She is my child, forever. I must always try to bring her back.”
Tomás’s anger evaporated, leaving him with tears of his own, enough that swiping his thumb over his eyes couldn’t make them stop. “I’m so tired, Mama. So tired. It hurts to know she doesn’t care.”
She stroked his hair, his ear, the back of his neck. “Let me care in her place, my sweet boy. Let me feed you and wash your clothes and push the anger out of your heart, so you have room for love to come in. Love of the nice man across the hall who blushes when he sees you.”
“Spenser has enough going on right now. Me too. Dating isn’t a good idea for either of us.”
“You need love and affection even more when you’re overwhelmed.”
“I don’t think he likes me. I’ve flirted here and there, but he doesn’t seem interested.” He didn’t bring up the kiss on election night, but weirdly it was almost the same thing. He’d smiled every time they ran into each other, thinking maybe they’d start something, but Spenser always had a wall up.
“How do you know, if you don’t talk to him? Go visit him. He’s a shy boy. You must take the lead. You are both men, but he is…” She waved her hand in the air, searching for the right phrase. “He isn’t an aggressive man. He’s smaller and shy and has a softness about him. You can be soft too, but you are bold. You are fire, and he is water. Go carefully to him. Share your day. Let Duon stay with us for an evening while the two of you go out and eat at a restaurant. Or he can cook you his hot dishes. Or you can teach him to make tamales. But you should be with him. Get to know him. He wants this as much as you do. I see him look at you, and I know. I feel it in my bones, he is the man for you.”
Tomás wouldn’t mind a relationship with Spenser or at least exploring one. But at the same time, thinking about asking the man out struck a terror in him he couldn’t explain. He fished for excuses. “What if it didn’t work? What if we dated and it went bad? Then it would be awkward for me to help with Duon, and that’s so much more important.”
“That’s a silly excuse. Of course you could still help with the boy. But it will work with Spenser. I told you, I know it is right. It’s the perfect match, the two of you. Don’t waste it.”
“But what about immigration? What if being so close to him and DHS brings immigration here, to you?”
She gave him a long, impatient glare. “If you make one more excuse, I won’t give you the empanadas I saved.”
He knew she was teasing, but he couldn’t laugh. “Mama, what if you’re wrong? What if he isn’t interested and I have a broken heart on top of everything else?”
Renata drew Tomás down and kissed his forehead. “Then I will simply have to love you harder, until the pain goes away.” She tweaked his nose. “And lucky for you, there are two empanadas.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
As the new year rolled in, Tomás began working less, and he also appeared more and more in Duon’s life—and Spenser’s.
When he came to Spenser’s apartment, Tomás was full of smiles, and at first it threw Spenser. He couldn’t help being wary, though Tomás flirting with him was exactly what he wanted. You’ll wreck it, he scolded himself. You’ll be cold, and he’ll stop.
But Tomás didn’t stop. He kept showing up, ostensibly to hang out with Duon, but whereas before he’d let Spenser slip away and leave the two of them alone, now he always roped Spenser into joining their card game or recaps of their day. He lured Spenser into listening to funny stories about work or his family.
Sometimes the two of them ended up having a conversation on their own. Every now and again when Duon retreated to his room, Tomás lingered and asked Spenser about his day. Sometimes they discussed music they had in common. Movies they would like to see. Places in the world they wished to go. Dreams they had and wanted to pursue.
“I want to take my mom to New York City.” Tomás revealed this one night, feet up on a chair across from him at Spenser’s table as a blizzard raged outside. “I want to save up and buy her tickets to a Broadway show. She loves musicals. Her English is fractured at best, but you should hear her sing along to Funny Girl and Les Misérables.”
The mental image of Renata singing along to songs from musicals made Spenser grin. “Which show is her favorite?”
“Wicked, at the moment. But she loves all of them.” Tomás threaded his hands behind his head and stared dreamily at the ceiling. “I have it all worked out. I’d book her a room at The Plaza. I’d have her and Dad go on one of those carriage rides in the park. Send her out to get her hair and nails done, have a pretty dress waiting for her on her bed when she came back. Something not from a thrift store. Then I’d take them out to eat in a nice restaurant, somewhere fancy but not so much that she’d feel out of place. Then we’d go to the show.”
It sounded wonderful to Spenser. “Have you ever been to New York?”
Tomás shook his head. “Haven’t so much as left the state. What about you?”
“I went to Wisconsin once. A small town north of Madison, to visit family. Not for a long time, though.”
Tomás sighed. “I always wanted to travel. I still do. There’s so much of the world to see.”
“I suppose. It would be all right if I had someone to travel with. I wouldn’t want to go alone.”
“Maybe the three of us could do a day trip sometime. You, me, and Duon.” He paused, then rolled his eyes. “Of course, I’d have to have a day off to make it work.”
“You work a lot, I noticed. I don’t know how you do it. I’d be exhausted doing half of what you do. I feel bad keeping you up talking when you clearly need sleep to fuel everything you do.”
He shrugged, lips tipping up in a grin as he winked at Spenser. “But I love being kept up talking. It’s one of the best parts of my day.”
These kinds of flirtatious glances sent Spenser’s heart fluttering and gave him hope, which was dangerous. “You’re just being kind.”
“Nope. Sometimes the only way I get through the last few hours is knowing I’ll be able to sit here and chat at the end of the day. With you.”
Spenser felt his blush take over his whole face, his body, a force he couldn’t control. That he was used to, but this time the blush made him smile too, as if he were a fruit whose skin had split. Even when he cast his gaze away from Tomás, the feeling bloomed inside him, pushing aside all his warnings.
Tomás likes talking to me.
Tomás likes me.
Tomás nudged him playfully with his foot as he sat up and put his feet on the floor, scooting closer to Spenser. “Hey. I’ve been meaning to ask you, but with the holidays and the grades you kept saying were due, I thought I should wait.”
Hope rose on a nervous, eager tide inside Spenser. He’s going to ask me out? “Yes?”
“I wanted to know if I could entice you back to the studio. Give you another dance lesson.”
“Oh.” Hope crashing to earth, Spenser held up his hands as he hastily built
walls around his disappointment. “No thank you.”
Tomás leaned forward. “Come on. It’ll be great.”
Spenser brushed imaginary lint from himself. “It’s not something I’m good at.”
“Well, that’s why it’s called a lesson. But nobody expects you to sign up for So You Think You Can Dance? or anything. Just come and have a good time. You can’t tell me you don’t have stress you need to work out of your body.”
Yes, but dancing in front of Tomás was only going to generate more. Especially since this was a platonic offer, and Spenser couldn’t stop his ridiculous fantasies of Tomás asking him out. “I don’t like making a fool of myself in front of other people.”
“You’re never foolish to me.”
The hand on Spenser’s leg startled him, making him look up. Tomás was only a handful of inches away. Spenser forgot to guard himself as he met Tomás’s gaze, forgot to hold back the truth of how much he loved these conversations. Forgot to hide the part of him that secretly did want to dance, if it was with Tomás.
When Tomás’s gaze falling to Spenser’s lips, Spenser closed his eyes and held his breath, waiting for the kiss.
But it didn’t come. Tomás’s cheek brushed his, but his lips never touched his skin as he whispered, “Come to dance class Thursday night, Spenser.” When Spenser pulled away, Tomás caught his shoulder, holding him gently in place. “Please.”
“All right.”
That wasn’t what Spenser meant to say. He wanted to call the words back, but Tomás stood, grinning, clearly pleased with himself. “Great. Come at eight. We can have the studio to ourselves again.”
Spenser wanted to tell Tomás they could meet here at eight. He could take the dance lesson in his bedroom. But thinking something so bold made him blush and scold himself, and all he could do was nod a little stupidly as Tomás let himself out of the apartment.
When he was gone, Spenser sat alone, dunking his tea bag absently in his nearly spent tea, his emotions banging around helplessly inside him.
Tomás couldn’t wait to dance with Spenser.
He’d been working up to asking Spenser out for weeks, but every time he got close, he chickened out. Despite what his mother said, he couldn’t be sure Spenser was into him. But Spenser had seemed different this last time. The longing look he’d given Tomás had undone him, pushed his nerves aside.
Well, almost aside. In his mind, asking Spenser to come to dance class was asking him out. The first step to it, anyway.
His anticipation drove him through his shift at Starbucks and had him humming as he hurried into the studio the next day. Duon, clad in his leotard, sat behind the desk. When Tomás glanced at the clock and raised an eyebrow, Duon held up his hands. “Don’t you go lecturing me, man. In-service early-out day. You can check the school website if you don’t believe me. Ed picked me up and dropped me off on his way to therapy.”
Tomás remembered something about this, vaguely, from going over the schedule of who was picking Duon up when earlier in the week. He wondered if this meant Spenser was free too, and had a flutter imagining he could kidnap the man and have their lesson now. But no, he was in a private school, so they likely had a different schedule.
With a sigh, he leaned over the counter. As he did, he caught a glimpse of Duon’s feet, which were now pressed so tight to the front of the desk they bent to the side.
Feet sporting pointe shoes.
Duon’s whole face flushed in embarrassment as he flailed desperately for a response. “I was, you know, fooling around.”
Nothing about Duon’s body posture supported this explanation. His shoulders were rolled forward, his back rounded, blush creeping down his neck.
The worst part was, Tomás couldn’t laugh at this incident or pretend it didn’t matter. “Whose shoes are they?”
“Sierra’s. She let me try them on the other day for fun, and I saw them hanging on the pegs with the others. Thought I’d try again. They fit okay—I’m not breaking them or anything. I just wanted to try some shit. Practice some moves. You know. Make the girls laugh.”
These kinds of moments with Duon always felt like dancing with knives. Tomás didn’t want to accidentally step on Duon’s feelings or cause insult, but he had to solve the issue of Duon using another dancer’s shoes without her permission. Especially Sierra’s, since her mother was unlikely to approve anyone borrowing her daughter’s one-hundred-dollar Gaynor Mindens.
Tomás was still working out how to deal with the situation when Laurie breezed into the studio, shivering under his parka. He smiled when he saw them. “Well hello there. What are the two of you up to?”
Tomás was absolutely happy to toss this grenade to Laurie. “Duon was telling me how he wants to learn pointe. He was practicing in Sierra’s shoes.”
Duon glared at Tomás for narcing, then reprised his it’s no big attitude as he addressed Laurie. “Just for fun, man. I know guys don’t get to do it. I wanted to try it once. I’ll take them off.”
Laurie didn’t scold, but he regarded Duon with gravity. “Pointe is a serious discipline. It’s true, men don’t normally dance it except for comedic effect. But more and more male ballet dancers are learning it.” He nodded at Duon’s feet, which were still tucked as far out of sight as possible. “If you decide it’s more to you than a joke, we can work your ballet training up to where I can teach you some pointe. But you’ll need your own shoes. You could more comfortably wear underwear three sizes too small than you could wear someone else’s pointe shoes. Plus you’d spend three Sundays cleaning the studio from stem to stern to earn enough money to replace those if you broke them.”
Suppressing a flinch, Duon drew a foot onto his lap and began to unlace the shoe. “Sierra didn’t say they were expensive.”
“Sierra doesn’t think about those kinds of things, unfortunately. The saddest part is the shoes don’t truly fit her either, but her mother didn’t like the idea of her dancing in anything but what someone at a dinner party told her was the best brand.”
Duon laid the shoe carefully on the desktop and lifted his other foot onto his opposite leg to undo the other one. “They sure are bitches, these damn shoes. I can’t stand up on them even if I hold on to something.”
“Like I said, they need to be fitted for you. But you also need a little more training.”
Duon cast Laurie and Tomás a sidelong glance. “You ever dance pointe?”
Tomás shook his head, but Laurie nodded. “I teach pointe, remember. I danced it in performance as well. Cinderella’s stepsisters several times in my youth, and I was Bottom in Midsummer Night’s Dream in a benefit production last fall.”
Duon perked up. “So you got shoes here now? What’s it gonna take to get you to dance pointe for me?”
The vulnerability in Duon’s tone caught the edge of Tomás’s heart.
“I’d dance for you anytime, and I’d be happy to teach you too.”
Duon looked like someone had offered him a puppy. Eager, and a bit undone. “You would? For real?” The light in his face dimmed. “But I ain’t got the shoes.”
“Oh, the shoes come later. For now, we’ll work on the basics. So go get ready. Both of you.”
Tomás blinked. “Me too?”
“Absolutely. Even if you never teach it, it’s good for you to understand all the disciplines.” Laurie clapped his hands together. “Go on, both of you. Tights, belts, slippers. I’ll meet you on the floor.”
It was only Tomás and Duon in the dressing room, as Laurie always arrived wearing his dancing attire and kept his shoes in his office. Duon only had to fish his shoes out of his locker, but he sat on the bench all but bouncing as Tomás hurried into his clothes.
Laurie was already out in the studio when they emerged, standing flat-footed at the stereo in his pointe shoes, frowning at his MP3 player attached to the system. “I want to begin with a demonstration, but I’m trying to think of what I want to dance to. I could do the routine I taught a young lady in Eden
Prairie two years ago. She wanted to dance en pointe to something modern. Not to brag, but the routine I devised for her has been copied by every single dancer to go to competition since then.”
“Yeah, you bragging.” Duon waved at the floor as Laurie finished lacing his second shoe. “Go on. Stop talking and dance already.”
Tomás was eager to see his instructor dance this routine too. “Show us how it’s done, Laurence Parker.”
It took Laurie a few minutes to find the song in his digital library, but soon the opening notes filtered through the speakers, and Laurie stepped out onto the floor. “It’s simple at first, but pay attention, because it doesn’t remain that way. You’ll have a temptation to watch my whole body, but notice my feet. They won’t be as showy, but they’re the reason all of this can happen.”
The dance was indeed subdued at first, and then, as if Laurie were sleepily lifting his head, his steps became more and more complicated. It was so different than how he was used to seeing Laurie perform. There was a grace to his movements en pointe, a different kind of fluidity and beauty.
When the song finished and Laurie bowed, Duon and Tomás both clapped loudly in appreciation.
“Beautiful, man.” Duon kept shaking his head, rapt with wonder. “Beautiful.”
Laurie reached for his towel and bottle of water. “I was so disappointed as a young dancer to learn as a male I’d rarely, if ever, dance en pointe. The only times I’ve ever done so without my performance being designed to elicit laughter is when I teach young ladies how to master their form.”
Tomás was pretty sure Laurie danced en pointe better than anyone he’d ever seen. “Why don’t men dance en pointe more often?”
Laurie shrugged. “Prejudice. Tradition. Women are supposed to appear delicate and beautiful, so they get the showy moves. Men are present in ballet to be strong. Except, of course, in the Parker studio, where we get to be both.” He waved a hand at them. “Come over to the barre, gentlemen, and I’ll give you your first lesson, which will be entirely boring.”
Enjoy the Dance Page 10