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“Isn’t that kind of silly?” I hedge. My family, as loving as they’ve always been, have also been highly critical of anything I was interested in that didn’t involve my studies. Is dancing kind of silly? Or is that the judgmental voice in my head that has grown louder than my own?
“No way. We would do the same damn thing,” Delfi responds, then grabs my arm again with a gasp. “We could all sign up for dance classes.”
“Oh, no. I don’t know about that.” I go pale as a sheet.
“I can’t believe we’ve never even considered it.”
T pours the cocktail, thinking it over. “I could look into something after my trip. Sounds fun,” she shrugs.
“What sounds fun?” Manny chimes in behind us, back again and giving Delfi a kiss on the cheek.
“Tango classes!” Delfi screams to the whole bar again.
“I dated a dancer once. He was a hot mess,” Manny says, arranging drinks on a tray. “Sign me up for tango.” He nods, grabbing the tray and leaving just as quickly with it to his tables.
I chance a look over at Logan and Tara, still sitting side by side, but a man has walked over now and given Tara one very big kiss on the mouth.
I immediately sit up straight, suddenly confused. Suddenly inexplicably interested in whatever is happening.
Logan shakes his hand, and the man sits down with them. I lean against the bar, palm tucked under my chin. I pretend I’m snacking on the calamari but keep looking up in interest. Could they not be dating? Why the hell am I so invested in this right now?
Amid my very amateur sleuthing, my phone lights up on the bar with a message from my ex, Jeremy.
“This asshole again?” T asks, catching the notification on my phone before I can move it out of sight.
Jeremy dumped me eight months ago. Well, it was more mutual than anything, I guess. Both of us had demanding, full-time jobs. It was a struggle to balance both, and maybe we had an understanding that we were both just coexisting in the relationship. Ours was one where I wanted more than he was giving, settling for anything I got. It was, as I look back on it, mediocre at best. Doesn’t mean the breakup didn’t suck, though. Losing a piece of somebody’s affection. And it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t still text me every so often, asking what I’m doing, or if I want to meet up for a drink. The no-strings sex was fine, but even that had become a little boring, a little predictable. A little … unsatisfactory on my end. Maybe he wasn’t wrong when he had said to me months ago, “There isn’t any passion here, Julie.”
But there is a familiar warm body and a familiar, comfortable bed. There's somebody on the other end saying okay. Just going with it, like I do everything else. Just looking for the affection again, the part I don’t want to admit out loud.
“You’re still stuck on him?” Delfi asks.
“You should be one to talk, Delfina,” T says, with a knowing smirk, probably a jab at the crushes Delfi tends to hold on to.
“It’s fine,” I tell them.
“Yeah, that’s the problem, Julie. It’s fine. You don’t needfine. You don’t need basic ass Justin.”
“Jeremy.”
“Whatever.”
She walks away to refill more drinks when Delfi chimes in. “He wasn’t a bad guy, but yeah, he kind of sucks. And while I think you should definitely have your fun, this guy isn’t it.”
“I’m not looking for fun,” I lie again. It sounds even more pathetic than I thought it would.
“Why not? Why don’t you give yourself some joy?”
I look at her—sweet sunshine Delfina—and I wonder how it’s so easy for her. How it’s so easy for all of them. For T and Delfiand my brother and my mother and even Leo, who got out, who got his own happy relationship, his own successful life.
Have I become too numb to everything that I just take whatever comes floating my way? That I just keep saying okay because it’s easy? That is certainly easy, isn’t it? I can’t continue to be on this end saying yes.
What doIwant right now? To be a different me. To be passionate and fun and to do the things I want to do. For me.
I catch Logan’s eyes across the bar again, the drinks warming up his smile, and I make a decision then: Maybe what I don’t need is easy. What I need is difficult and challenging and hard for me. Like a last-minute decision to get a haircut. Like a zero-hour decision to sign up to dance. Like keeping it going. I’m going to keep the classes going. I will at least see them through to the end of the session.
I give him a smile in return.
And then, another hard thing: for the first time, I leave Jeremy’s text unanswered.
