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“No, thank you. I’m probably going to head home after this.”
Once Logan heads inside, I watch Gavin start a game with Samantha, while T and Delfi come back to the table.
“Making friends?” T asks upon sitting down, with a smirk.
“Being friendly,” I tell her pointedly.
“He looks like he’s being friendly, too.” She lifts an eyebrow.
“He’s thirty-three.”
“And?” She asks like she fails to see any problem.
“He’s younger than me.”
“Seriously?” Delfi says almost in disbelief, or maybe it’s renewed interest.
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Julie,” T cackles. “Jesus Christ, stop making excuses. You need somebody to have fun with.”
“I know how to have fun by myself.”
“Oh, do you? When was the last time you had any fun? Before tonight.”
I keep my mouth closed. I meant it when I said this whole thing is complicated, for so many reasons. I’m not interested in giving my secrets away right now. I don’t want to talk about it, about all the fun I’ve been having at this tango class. About the fun I’ve surprisingly found outside of it, with a certain someone that is walking back over to the table with a drink in hand.
“It’s time for me to head out anyway,” I say, wrapping up this conversation.
“Me too, I think,” Delfina agrees.
“Fine. Manny and I will keep this party going in your honor.” T says.
“Be safe,” I tell her, giving her a kiss goodbye on the cheek. “Text me when you get home.”
“I will,” she sighs. Years ago, I would have driven myself crazy trying to control what any of my other cousins, or siblings, did. I would have tried to control the drinks, the partying, the late nights. I would have tried to reason with them, get them to come home, too. I realize now I can’t control them, I never could. And besides what did it get me? Sitting on the sidelines of someone else’s fun. Trying to attach rules, trying to keep everything comfortable for me.
I’m older now, but I still want a text when they get home.
“Nice meeting you guys.” Delfina waves to Gavin and Logan, now quietly chatting in a corner. I wave, too, leaving words between Logan and me unsaid. Leaving them lingering in the currents between us: his eyes that hold the smallest twinkle, the smirk that is showing restraint from becoming a full smile, the hand that is waving back that once held me close as we danced. This is a strange secret to keep, I know, but as conflicting as the whole experience has been, it has been no less fun.
So, for now, I’ll keep thinking about the dance.
Or maybe, I’ll just keep thinking about him.
I don’t really know why.
***
I cuddle up onthe couch with my laptop and a glass of water, googling Logan Beck like I probably should have done some weeks ago. The search results are not surprising: accolades thatfeature both him and Tara, his own website, the dance studio’s website. Seems like he’s taught at different ones throughout the city. Dance shows and events. Features in international championships. And then videos.
I cue one up and press play, a local competition from about two years ago, him and Tara taking the stage. I look on, mesmerized, this feeling not an unfamiliar one, andyet.
I haven’t felt this in so long, the feeling of my heart being pulled from my body. The silence in the room, the desire, the burning. The way my legs are twitching. I haven’t felt this since … well, since I was eight.
It’s incredible to watch, really—watching somebody do something they love and watching them do it so well. He’s dancing with Tara, strong and powerful Tara, who holds the power in this dance. Perhaps that’s been part of the appeal for me: how a woman’s body can move so sensually, say so much. How much power it can carry throughout a song.
I notice then that this festival is one my grandmother attended several times throughout the years. As a dancer in the beginning, and then later as a guest judge. She invited me once when she had traveled to the States for it. I was in the thick of studying for exams, elbow deep in the stress of law school. By that point I was in my twenties, but I took one night and went, pushing aside my responsibilities for just a moment. And I adored it, watching these couples dance, in gorgeous glittering dresses and three-piece suits.
Of course, once my mother found out I’d skipped out on a morning class because I had been out too late the night before, I never heard the end of it. I was destroying my life, she’d said. I was throwing away my chances at a good career. I was being careless with my time.
