November 21, 2008
Toby
I walk down the familiar hallways of Cleveland Middle School, but the hall is dark. The energy in the gym is different. Music blares from the speakers. We played our last game a few hours ago, an away game, and we won. But I walk into the gym. It’s bathed in streamers, twinkle lights, and balloons, and there’s a finality to it that saddens me.
Instead of JerryAnn’s temple, the gym is a middle school dance floor. Giant seashells and fish hang from the rafters, along with oversized phony record players, massive gold stars, and streamers in every color, even black, which won’t be visible when the lights go out, but the 8th-grade student body presidency is beaming with pride as I walk past them.
“Nice work,” I say. I want to ask them about the theme, but I’m pretty sure it’s an “Enchantment under the 50’s Sock Hop Night on Broadway” theme. They give each other high fives and pats on the back, and I smile.
I walk to Rose’s room and jiggle the handle to make sure it’s locked, like she asked me to. It’s locked, like I told her it would be. She’s with her family for Thanksgiving week. As I peer into her dark room, I cringe and recall our conversation from last week.
We were sitting at my table, eating enchiladas. She said they were good but not as good as her mom’s, but then she did something unusual. She picked at the ingredients with her fork, separating the cilantro from the cheese, and then she looked up at me and said, “I want you to come to Thanksgiving with my family, but I don’t think it’s the best idea because we’re spending the week in Roswell.”
I took a bite and swallowed. “Are you guys big UFO fans or something?”
She shook her head, didn’t eat, just shoved her food around. “No, nothing like that. We’ll spend most of our time in Hagerman.” She pokes the tortilla with her fork. “We’re staying in Roswell but visiting my dad in Hagerman.”
I swallowed hard. What was she not saying? “Are your parents divorced?” In all our time together, Rose’s dad had never come up.
“No, they’re together, sort of…as together as they can be.” With her fork, she peeled the tortilla from the enchilada in a long thin strip.
I grabbed Rose’s hand, more to stop her from the dissection than to provide comfort, but her eyes met mine, and her vulnerability was as tangible as the naked enchilada on her plate.
“What are you not telling me?”
“My Dad is being detained at the Roswell Correctional Center.” She whispered the words in the quiet of my apartment. “Five years ago, he committed an armed robbery.”
I squeezed her hand. Gordita purred under the table, sprawled across my foot. “I’m sorry.” It’s all I could think of to say. I had questions. How long would he be there? What’s he like? Was he a good dad? Is it possible to be a good Dad and an armed robber? I cleared my throat. “If you want some time with your family, I’ll sit Thanksgiving out.”
“That’s why I’ve been weird about things,” Rose whispered.
Microphone feedback rings through the gym and shakes me from my thoughts. I stand in the corridor outside Rose’s classroom with my hands in my pockets, facing Rose’s door. It’s five minutes until the dance starts, but I mosey into the gym as students stream in wearing dresses, shirts, ties, and insecurities.
Loneliness sinks in as I circle the gym, where kids are laughing and talking. I have a week off, alone. Another Thanksgiving without Mom will be unbearable, and now that basketball practice is over, I’ll never see JerryAnn aside from when she picks up Cate from school, but even that will end in a month when my long-term subbing position ends. We’ll go on with our lives. She’ll forget me, but I’ll remember her.
Seal sings “Kiss from a Rose,” and I wonder who the DJ is to play such an old song. Dr. Jacobs stands behind the sound equipment with a middle-aged woman behind him. He pulls her out on the dance floor and she clings to his arm. It must be his wife. They hold each other close while dancing and laughing. They have what I want.
There’s a tap on my shoulder. “Se?or Delgado,” Milo says. He’s wearing a white shirt, a red polka-dot bow tie, and black slacks.
Beside him is Cate. I’ve never seen her wear anything but frumpy sweatshirts, T-shirts, and baggy jeans, but tonight she’s in a lavender dress, and her eyes dart nervously around the gym as she says, “Hola, Se?or Delgado.”
I’m thrilled she’s talking to me again. “Hola, Se?orita Cate. Te ves muy bonita.” You are very pretty. She smirks at me. I laugh.
“And what am I?” Milo steps in front of Cate. “Has Cate made me invisible? Don’t I look good?”
I laugh at Milo. “Te ves guapo.” He puffs out his chest.
Cate steps close to Milo but doesn’t touch him. “Let’s get some food.”
“Adios, Amigo.” Milo waves, following behind Cate like a puppy.
JerryAnn, tall and beautiful, slips up beside me, and my heart jumps. I’ve never seen her in a dress, and she, like Cate, has transformed. She leans close, and I remind myself of my weaknesses. Don’t look at her eyes, they mess with you. Don’t make her laugh, you love that laugh. Do not stay out too late with her, or she’ll open up to you. Don’t engage. I repeat, do not engage.
I smell JerryAnn’s deodorant. It smells better than roses. She leans close. “Did you just call Milo “Guapo” like the guy from Three Amigos ?”
I love that she knows Three Amigos and forget not to engage. “Guapo means handsome.”
She smiles back, and her eyes twinkle as she nudges me with her elbow. “Well, Guapo, which one of these kids asked you to the dance?”
Her calling me handsome affects me more than it should. Besides, she’s joking. I point at Dr. Jacobs. JerryAnn nods. “And I thought he only had eyes for me. But with the way he’s dancing with his wife, I’d say we’re both safe.”
We watch them spin and twirl. They’re the only people on the dance floor who know what they’re doing. JerryAnn sighs. “They’re good dancers.”
“Are you?” JerryAnn gives me a blank look. “Are you a good dancer?”
“I don’t know.” JerryAnn shrugs. “I’ve never been to a dance.”
My mouth drops open, and I stare. She’s not looking for sympathy, and I can tell my shocked expression makes her uncomfortable. “None of the guys I’ve dated danced.”
I went to every dance from middle through high school and always with dates who would have rather been with someone else. But I held onto an eternal optimism that the next girl would be the one.
We talk about the basketball game, the girls, the improvements they’ve made, and marvel at our wins. JerryAnn deserves all the credit, but I revel in the glory of being part of something bigger than my own efforts. Another slow song plays while we talk. I bring JerryAnn some overly saccharine punch. We laugh and drink and talk. She keeps an eye on Cate.
I take her cup, throw it in a trash can, then grab her wrist and pull her onto the dancefloor. She’s not as compliant as Mrs. Dr. Jacobs, but Cate and Milo follow behind. JerryAnn scans the room, never losing sight of Cate, like a bodyguard.
I sway, moving to the music, but JerryAnn is rigid. “Do what I do.” I get more into it.
JerryAnn belly laughs. “What is with you and your thumbs?” She puts her thumbs up and sways from side to side along with me.
“Oh, the thumbs are critical to dancing.” Her laugh reels me in. “I’m giving myself a thumbs up and everyone around me a thumbs up, and my thumbs do their own little dance.”
JerryAnn laughs. Milo and Cate imitate my dance, and then the gym is full of thumb dancers, and I’ve never seen JerryAnn so happy. In my mind, Chris de Burgh sings “Lady in Red , ” even though what’s actually playing is techno dance music. At first, it’s confusing, but JerryAnn is stunning in her red dress, with her impossibly long legs, strong, toned arms, and a smile as intoxicating as her laugh. When a slow song finally plays, Cate and Milo are out of the crowd, and JerryAnn and I are stuck in the middle of the floor. We don’t touch each other, but we sway together.
“You look beautiful,” I say even though I shouldn’t.
“Thanks.” She says it deliberately, working hard not to be snarky, and I smile back. She leans in closer. “Thank you.” Her expression is serious, and I don’t think she’s thanking me for the thumb dance tutorial. “Milo told me about the contract. Dad never would have agreed to it, if not for you.”
It’s not a secret, but I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, especially since I’m still not sure it will work out. Milo will have to work hard to comply with the terms. She leans back, our gazes meet, and something significant passes between us. Maybe it’s respect, maybe it’s appreciation—or something more—but she turns away. We sway a little more, and I want to put my arms around her. I don’t—because I shouldn’t. Rose and I fit. JerryAnn and I don’t.
The song ends. JerryAnn walks away, and I follow like a puppy, not a guy with a girlfriend. I’m a few inches behind and to the right of her when I consider walking away, which would be smart, but she slows so we’re side by side.
She whispers in my ear. “This dress cuts off the circulation to my right arm.” She wiggles her arm. “It’s numb. If you find a long arm lying on the gym floor on Monday, send it back to me.”
I laugh.
She grabs my arm. It’s the only physical contact we’ve had all night, and I stare at her long, strong fingers as I absorb the heat of her touch. “Before I forget, Dad asked me to invite you over for Thanksgiving dinner. It’s at 2:00 at Dad’s.” JerryAnn is being pulled back onto the dance floor by Milo. Her hand drops from my arm. “Can you make it?”
I should say no. “Yeah, that sounds great.” I smile. She moves away, closer to Cate, and she sways on the dance floor, awkward and clumsy. She plays basketball like a dancer, but she dances like a clutz.
“Don’t let that one get away.” I jump. Dr. Jacobs stands beside me.
Doesn’t he know Rose and I are dating? Isn’t it obvious JerryAnn and I don’t fit? Doesn’t he know you have to have something before you can let it get away? I turn my eyes from JerryAnn and face Dr. Jacobs.
He’s watching JerryAnn laugh at Milo. “I admire her as a ball player, but that’s not what sets her apart. She has more heart than most.” His eyes turn from JerryAnn to his wife. “Last time I met a lady that amazing, I married her.” He shuffles back to his wife and pulls her close.
My stomach growls as Dr. Jacobs slips away. In the rush of the evening, I skipped dinner, which explains a lot. I smile to myself as Mom's voice in my head says, " Come algo ." I’m not pining after JerryAnn. I'm hungry.