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“Why? What’s this about?”
“Just a question. Did you ever feel like you couldn’t prioritize your own things?”
“Are you okay?” he asks, mildly concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I know you did a lot for me back then.” He got a full-time job at eighteen, balancing school and work, offering to help me pay for the ballroom classes when the tuition increased. He wanted me to keep going—fully supportive, fully proud of me. “Did I take anything away from you?”
“I didn’thaveto do anything, Logan,” he tells me, brows scrunched together. “I already said that. I wanted to do it for you. What’s this about?”
“Maybe you felt resentful towards me, I don’t know.”
“Nah.” He’s quiet for a while, looking at me, his mind probably racing. “I did what I did for you because I wanted to. And I hope you know that. I got to live my life, too. I did plenty of things for myself. You didn’t stop me. Mom and dad didn’t stop me.”
“Okay,” I say, trying to ease out of the topic of conversation. “Well, I’ve got a full day of classes and then I’m headed to the milonga tomorrow night.”
“Is this about San Diego?”
I almost flinch at those words but manage to shake my head. He’s talking about last year. The competition that Tara and I made a mess of. But now with the promise to Julie, the weight of San Diego is that much more prevalent.
“I’ve been proud of you from the very beginning, Logan,” he says clearly. “That shit isn’t changing. Ever. We all have bad days. You’re still alright in my book.”
I scratch the back of my neck, probably a nervous habit at this point. He’s said these things to me before. He said them then, a year ago, but with the both of us working on new trajectories of our lives, it seems oddly more genuine. “Thanks.”
“Are you still searching for jobs?”
“I’m not going to work with Steve if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Fair enough,” he laughs.
“I don’t know what I’m doing yet.” Truthfully, I don’t.
“Also, fair,” he says. “Have fun at the milonga then. It’ll probably be a late night for me, and a busy weekend, so see you when I see you.” He lifts his hand in a wave, remote still in the other as he presses play on a documentary about koala rescue habitats.
“See you later.”
Suddenly, everything seems so different.
Suddenly, everything feels like it’s starting new.
Chapter nineteen
Julieta
Tia Cecilia used tofrequent milongas when I was younger, going out and staying until late. She would stumble back home laughing and humming to herself, her dress stretched out around her body like she’d been dancing all night. She always made it a point to wear something flowy or stretchy, something with give to allow for movement. I remember that now as I’m desperately searching my closet for something, anything decent, to wear. I find a simple black dress with thin straps, falling just past my knee, a slit up the side. A dress I bought on a whim for a date with Jeremy. I didn’t end up wearing it, breaking up shortly after instead. That was probably for the best anyway, but this dress will do.
My grandmother’s signature look was always a bright red lip. Didn’t matter how the years crept up on her, she kept that signature. And I always thought it was the most sophisticated look.
I feel a little more than silly as I try to recreate it now. Deep, lush, ruby red painted on in strokes. Any other dancer could fashion a glamourous updo with their long flowing hair.My short bob gets pinned back with small pins, brushed away from my face. I step into the shoes, buckling them with the same nerves I felt the first time. I’ve been wearing them for weeks now, but this somehow feels more official. Headed to a milonga in these shoes feels like I’m really doing the thing.
When I look at myself in the mirror, the surprise is jolting. There’s a steady acknowledgement that I look damn good in this dress. And Jeremy didn’t deserve to see me in it anyway.
But Logan…
Well, maybe he’ll like it. Not that I’m dressing up for him. But maybe he’ll appreciate that I look presentable, that I’m properly dressed for the part.
Though after Thursday night, I don’t know where anything stands.
One more look, one more turn in the mirror. Maybe I’m lying to myself. I should at least aim to be honest. There’s no point in going down this rabbit hole searching for the authenticity in my life if I’m not going to be honest with myself.
