Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
NYLA
On shaky legs, I step in front of the mirror. ‘And you’re sure you don’t need it today?’ I ask Olive, who is sitting behind me on my bed.
She shakes her head. ‘The skirt looks great on you, and for what you’re planning, it’s perfect.’
‘Yeah, it is.’ Absentmindedly, I run my hand over the soft fabric. Then I swing my hips experimentally. ‘Perfect.’
The excitement that has been bubbling inside me since yesterday, when Jaden and I made the plan for tonight, swells.
‘But you also need the right shoes.’ Olive tilts her head to the side, her brown hair falling in soft waves over her shoulder. ‘With a little heel, right?’
I reach for the long golden earrings and put them on. ‘Mhm, I think so.’
My roommate bolts upright from the bed. ‘I think I’ve got something for you,’ she says, and leaves my room.
Of course she does. When it comes to clothes, shoes, handbags, and make-up, she’s simply unbeatable.
That’s probably why she comes across as a superficial fashion doll at first glance, but behind that facade is such a wonderful person.
She’s generous, loving, and accommodating, and not for the first time I wonder why she thinks she has to hide that behind this flawless exterior.
While I wait for her, I turn in front of the mirror.
The skirt flutters up, and I imagine what it will look like later when Jaden and I learn our first tango steps.
It’s the perfect start for our joint project.
I’m sure practicing the basics will involve lots of breaks so that my body can cope well with the exertion.
And Jaden?
Will he manage it too? Or will the demons he’s fighting gain the upper hand? Will we have to cut the dance lesson short, or maybe not even start it at all?
Olive sweeps through the door and presents me with a pair of strappy stilettos. ‘Try them on.’
Hesitantly, I take the shoes from her. The appliqués sparkle subtly, the seams are flawless. ‘They must have cost a fortune.’ On top of that, they look barely worn.
Olive waves it off. ‘Go on, put them on.’
I slip into them and step in front of the mirror again. ‘If I slick my hair back to the side with gel, no one would think I’m a complete beginner.’
With a proud expression, my roommate steps up beside me. In her hand I spot a hair clip in the shape of a red flower. Carefully, Olive fastens it above my left ear.
‘Now it’s perfect.’ There’s a thoughtfulness in her tone that I’ve never heard from her before.
Our eyes meet in the mirror. ‘Is everything okay?’
Her cheeks flush slightly. ‘Yes, of course, I’m fine.’
‘Maybe even better than usual?’ I ask with a grin.
‘Maybe.’ She smiles. ‘I don’t know yet.’
‘Olive McKee, is it possible that you’re in love?’ The thought makes me beam. She’s been focused only on her work for so long; she more than deserves this happiness.
Self-consciously, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and a quiet hum escapes her mouth that I take as agreement.
‘I’m incredibly happy for you,’ I say, pulling her into my arms.
With her arms wrapped around me, she rocks me gently back and forth. ‘It’s still far too early to be happy about it.’
She lifts her head as if something has caught her attention. ‘Your orchid is blooming, how lovely!’
I look over at the windowsill. ‘Since yesterday.’
This little plant has fought its way through. Maybe because I started to believe in it. Because I wanted to be confident that it would grow and thrive and delight everyone who enters my room with its beauty. I wanted it to have a future. Now it does.
‘And you thought it wouldn’t survive with you,’ I hear Olive say.
Thoughtfully, I study the orchid. ‘Looks like I was wrong.’
Before she can reply, the doorbell rings.
Jaden.
My heartbeat speeds up all on its own, but it doesn’t scare me. On the contrary, the way this man affects my pulse feels wonderful.
I grab my handbag, hurry to the door, and open it with a broad smile on my face, which grows even wider when I see him.
He looks sharp in his black dress pants and elegant shoes. Under his jacket I can make out a black shirt, unbuttoned far enough that I can see his torso, which I now notice is also tattooed. His green eyes shine intensely, the dark hair and five o’clock shadow giving him a roguish air.
Hot. Damn hot.
‘Well, hello.’ That definitely came from Olive, who must be somewhere behind me in the hallway.
He lifts the corners of his mouth, his gaze fixed only on me. ‘Wow.’
‘Wow back at you,’ I say and grab my jacket. I give Olive a quick glance. ‘See you later.’
‘Take your time,’ she replies lovingly and strolls off toward the living room.
Jaden reaches his hand out to me, and I lace my fingers with his. ‘Ready to go?’
‘I’m ready.’ I steal a kiss, then pull the door shut and head off to the dance studio with him.
Hand in hand, Jaden and I step over the threshold of the dance hall. The floor gleams under the soft lights; a few couples are spinning to the music, laughing, while others stand together chatting.
I feel Jaden tense, his fingers closing more tightly around mine. A flicker of nervousness flashes in his eyes. Gently, I draw him closer to me and squeeze his hand as a sign that he’s not alone.
‘Step by step,’ I whisper to him. ‘Moment by moment.’
The music falls silent, he exhales in a strained rush.
The dance teacher—dressed in black, his blond hair tied up in a man bun—claps his hands and greets us.
‘Before we start with the steps, we need the right basic posture.’ He steps up to a couple and demonstrates how it should look. ‘The upper body stays upright, but not stiff,’ he explains. ‘Give it a try.’
Jaden places his hand on my shoulder blade, and I feel the tension in his fingers. I take my position as well, then lift my gaze. Constriction is reflected in the green of his eyes. Silently, I let him know that I’m here with him.
The dance teacher comes over to us, corrects the position of my arm, and then moves on to the next couple.
Jaden’s jaw grinds, and I sense that his thoughts are with Lilly right now. With sick Lilly, who watched the competitive dance championships on TV with a look of longing.
‘Why the tango, of all dances?’ I ask him.
He is silent for a while, then a melancholy expression flits across his face. ‘When we were still kids—she was nine, I was twelve—we went on vacation in Buenos Aires,’ he begins, then falls silent and shakes his head.
I give him an encouraging nod. ‘Did she see tango dancers there?’
He presses his lips together, looks around the dance studio, probably trying to find something that helps him not sink too deep into the memory.
‘We had to wait for hours until she could tear herself away,’ he says at last. A watery sheen forms in his eyes, he blinks quickly. ‘She just stood there with her mouth open. Nothing had ever captivated her like that before—except for the night sky, of course.’
This is hard for him, that much is obvious, but I can also see how hard he’s trying to open up. To remember his little sister. ‘Still, she never learned to dance the tango,’ I say gently. ‘Why not?’
He shakes his head, fighting with himself, with the memory, with the pain. I stroke his arm.
‘She always said that with her two left legs there was no point even trying,’ he forces out. ‘And she was probably right, she was insanely clumsy.’
‘I’m sure a lot of funny things must have happened.’ Lovely things he perhaps hasn’t thought about in a long time. Experiences that still make him laugh today.
‘Oh yes.’ He gives a brief smile, his muscles relax, and then the dance teacher claps his hands again.
‘Let’s start with the basic step. Leaders begin by stepping forward with the left foot.’ I struggle to focus on him as he demonstrates the movement. ‘…and finally, bring the left foot together with the right. Followers start as a mirror image, so by stepping back with the right foot.’
Around us, the first couples start to move, some hesitantly, some confidently. Jaden and I continue to look at each other, unchanged.
Is he glad about the interruption from the instructor? Or would he have preferred to go on talking about Lilly? To remember her together with me, all the things that made her so lovable?
‘Sounds easy,’ he murmurs, but his eyes tell me that for him it’s anything but easy.
Resolutely, I straighten my back. ‘Let’s try.’ For Lilly, I add silently.
He nods. ‘For Camee,’ he says.
‘Camee?’ I raise my eyebrows in question.
‘She was Camee, I was Jayjay.’ His tone is brittle. ‘That’s what Lilly called us when she was little and couldn’t pronounce our names properly.’
‘How do you get from Lilly to Camee?’ I ask curiously.
He gives a gentle smile. ‘Her real name was Camille, but that was too old-fashioned for her. From the time she was eight, she insisted on being called Lilly.’
‘By everyone except you.’ That’s how close the two of them were.
He nods. ‘Camee and Jayjay became our thing, like a secret code that bound us together.’
My heart breaks at the thought of what Jaden must have gone through with Lilly’s illness. And already my fear is there, slipping through the crack into my soul.
Is what we’re doing here the right thing?
Ninety-four percent might still not be enough. Not for Jaden.
Before I can reply, he slowly moves his left foot forward as if in slow motion and I step back with my right. Under the instructor’s guidance we continue. It’s nowhere near a tango, but they are first steps and more will follow. When and how many doesn’t matter.
Out of nowhere the dance teacher is standing beside us. ‘Side step and close, my dears, side step and close.’
I concentrate on doing the steps correctly, not least to forget my inner restlessness, and Jaden goes along with it.
‘Very nice. Once more from the top, but a bit quicker, this is the dance of passion, after all, not of falling asleep.’ Our instructor claps his hands, setting the rhythm.
It’s way too fast. My head can’t keep up, Jaden and I step on each other’s feet, I wobble and almost fall, but he catches me.
‘Another try,’ the teacher calls out enthusiastically, and we try again.
Back – back – side – forward.
‘Keep your backs straight,’ our instructor admonishes us.
Cross – side – close.
‘Again,’ someone says, and this time it’s not the dance instructor but Jaden, and he’s smiling as he says it.
I throw him a conspiratorial look, then we keep going, get more and more into the flow, and when music suddenly floods the dance studio, it almost feels like real dancing.
The melody seeps into me and I let myself drift. My body follows the music; we stumble, laugh, pull ourselves together, start again.
I notice how Jaden slowly lets go. The initial tension has vanished, and I, too, lose myself in this moment.
The room, the other people, the effort—none of it exists anymore.
Only the two of us, the music, and the dance.
Every step becomes a liberated breath, every turn a new chance to feel freedom.
I give it everything. Every muscle in my body is in motion, feels strong and free.
With a broad smile on my face, I look at Jaden, and I see the same feeling reflected in his eyes. He’s enjoying it. This thing he thought he could never do is making him shine.
Far too quickly, the hour is over, and only when we leave the dance studio do I realize how much I’ve exhausted myself. Beads of sweat run down my forehead, my breathing is fast, my heart is pounding.
I gave everything, pushed myself without thinking, and not for a single second did I feel uncomfortable. I wasn’t afraid, and I’m not now either. On the contrary, I just feel… alive.
With every fiber of my body I can feel that I’m healthy. That I can live my life, that I’m allowed to dream of a future, maybe even with Jaden. That I can at least partly be the old Nyla again.
All of a sudden my eyes fill with tears, it feels so good. I glance sideways at Jaden and he looks relaxed too. There’s no fear anymore, no pain.
‘That was amazing,’ I say.
His warm gaze meets mine. ‘Yeah,’ is all he replies, but his expression lets me know that he would say so much more if only he could find the right words.
I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him passionately. ‘You did it,’ I whisper between two kisses.
He pulls me closer to him. ‘We did it.’
Yes, we did. Together. Once again, thanks to him, I feel infinite, and I sense that I no longer have to wish for this feeling to stay with me.
I know that it will.