THE LESSON
The building was dark. As they opened the door, they hesitated, allowing a moment for their eyes to adjust. The stairs in the foyer were lit with neon lights, and arrows indicated the Boomba Bar was downstairs. Slowly, they descended, David dragging his feet behind Kate. As they reached the bottom, she turned to face him, “You don’t want to do this, do you?”
“Think I would’ve preferred a cookery class, but I’m prepared to try it, if it makes you happy.” He seemed genuine enough. Kate felt warm and happy. Such a lovely, kind, sensible man.
“It’s pretty amazing that you found an English-speaking Salsa teacher. Well done.”
Kate stopped short. Warm, happy feelings vanished faster than a pizza at a party full of starving teenagers. Stupid, annoying man. Why did it have to be an English Salsa teacher? Why did David presume it was going to be in English? She’d never told him that. She didn’t have a clue whether the teacher was Spanish, English, or Japanese. Why was it important, anyway? It was a dance class, not a book club. Kate felt worried. David wouldn’t do it if it was in Spanish; he’d use that as a convenient excuse to wiggle his way out of it. Shit. Shit. Shit. Please let the teacher speak English. Pleeeease.
As they pushed open the double-frosted glass doors at the bottom of the stairs, they entered an empty bar. Things obviously didn’t get going here until much later. The inside of the bar wasn’t any better lit than the foyer, yet it seemed like a fitting ambience to dance Salsa. Plus, it conformed exactly to the image Kate had conjured up.
A large dancefloor dominated the room and a disco ball, a throwback from the seventies, twirled, casting its mesmerising light show over the empty dance floor. In the background, acoustic Latin American music reverberated as if in harmony with the disco ball light show. Hugging the outskirts of the room were low-level couches; the sort that were no doubt very comfortable, but hell to get up from. To the far left was a long bar, which stretched the width of the room, and floor-to-ceiling mirrors, which gave a sense of grandeur far greater than the reality. Blue fluorescent lighting surrounded this palace of mirrors, lighting up the corners of the darkened room. Kate made a mental note that white bras should be avoided at all costs on Salsa nights.
Looking around, Kate noticed a couple standing at the far end of the room. The woman was shuffling her feet and staring down at the floor, whilst the man was looking around and appeared to be more enthusiastic than his partner. The woman was stunning; long blonde hair and elegant clothes. Totally out of place in this seedy environment; far better suited lounging on the front of a luxury yacht. The man seemed perfectly at ease, but as Kate observed him, she noticed the confident manner in which he carried himself. Tall, sun-streaked blonde hair and an athletic build; she guessed he was in his late thirties. An air of arrogance surrounded him. On closer inspection, Kate noted that the woman looked more miserable than anxious, with a pained expression furrowed on her face. Kate imagined that perhaps, like David, she was also here under duress. The man was now stroking her back; there was something so sensual about the way he glided his hands up and down that a shiver ran down Kate’s spine. Next to them stood a group of three women, clearly friends, giggling and whispering to one another, no doubt about the two young men standing on the opposite side of the room. Kate wondered with amusement if the men, like the girls, were discussing who would get to dance with whom.
In the corner stood a woman shuffling papers. Kate surmised she must be the teacher and walked across to her, dragging a reluctant David behind her.
“Hello, we’re here for the beginner’s Salsa class,” Kate said, with more confidence than she felt. David extricated his hand from her vice-like grip, and she instinctively reached back to grab it. Partly to give her the confidence she wasn’t feeling, but mostly to stop him from doing a runner.
“?Perdona?” came the reply. Shit. Spanish.
Ignoring David, who was now pulling at her hand, Kate tried again in her best Spanish, “Nosotros estamos aquí por la nueva clase de Salsa.”
“Si, apunte su nombre aquí. La clase empieza en cinco minutos.”
Kate wrote their names down on the list as instructed, whilst David started tugging with increased frequency as he hissed into her ear, “No way. There’s no way I’m doing this in Spanish. You lied to me. I’m here under false pretences. Let’s go.”
“I didn’t lie to you. I honestly didn’t know.” Kate stalled while trying not to rise to the bait. Taking a deep breath, she said calmly—well, more calmly than she felt—“Look, we’re here now. Just give it a go. You only need to watch the steps; it doesn’t matter what language it’s in.”
The teacher, Isabel, introduced herself. She looked almost exactly how Kate had imagined—long dark hair twirled into a bun like a ballerina, with a glowing olive complexion. Kate was grateful for the interruption. Isabel clapped her hands and signalled to the motley group to approach the dance floor. A look of relief flooded over the singletons. No partner choosing tonight. Obviously, they were going to learn the steps first, and the whole partner thing would come later.
“?Mira!” Isabel said. “Watch!” Kate translated for David in a whisper so as not to disturb the other students.
“I’m not a complete imbecile,” David growled under his breath.
Isabel, very slowly and with precision, placed her left foot forward to the count of ‘uno.’
Kate didn’t bother to translate, ‘uno’ into ‘one,’ hoping that years of Spanish lessons might at least have enabled David to count from one to ten. Now ‘dos,’ the weight shifts back to the right foot and then ‘tres,’ the weight transferred again to the left foot.
Isabel clapped and David, who’d begun to sweat, his hair sticking to the nape of his neck, whispered into Kate’s ear, “I feel like a complete and utter prat.”
Kate squeezed his hand in an attempt to soothe him and whispered back, “You’re doing great. We’re all in the same boat.” She was exhausted. They’d only done three steps, but it was the energy consumed by David’s misery that was draining her.
Something like a “Humph,” left his lips.
Reaching ‘cinco,’ Isabel continued with her instructions, but Kate was confused; what had happened to ‘cuatro,’ the number four? David didn't seem to question the disappearing number. His face just screwed up trying to work out which foot was going where.
This is great , thought Kate.
This is a nightmare. David’s thoughts were far removed from his wife’s.
Confident that the class had mastered the first few steps, Isabel decided to try it to music. Turning up the volume, the Latin beats that had been playing inconspicuously in the background suddenly filled the room.
“Uno, dos, tres … cinco, seis, siete. Uno, dos, tres … cinco, seis, siete.” Isabel called out repeatedly.
Kate still felt confused about the missing number four and wanted to put up her hand, but as nobody else seemed concerned, she tried to let it go and found herself focusing on Isabel instead. She noticed how her hips seemed to gyrate to the rhythm of the music and attempted a similar movement of her own. David was just sort of bobbing up and down, his movements bearing no relevance to the beat whatsoever. In fact, his whole body seemed rigid with tension.
Kate looked around. The two boys were also doing similar bobbing movements but at least had the grace to be smiling, whilst the girls seemed to have grasped the hang of it, adding a little wiggle of the bottom here and a swing of the hips there, just like Isabel. The other couple were behind them so Kate couldn’t see how they were faring, but she smiled and was satisfied with her efforts.
“Isn’t this fabulous?” she whispered to David.
“Yes, just fabulous.” David’s eyes rolled.
“Uno, dos, tres … cinco, seis, siete.” They continued to practise until Isabel clapped her hands together, signalling a break. David made a run for the bar, where water bottles had been conveniently laid out, and seemed relieved to be off the dance floor.
“So you go forward first, and then you come back to the same place, and then you go forward again?” David attempted to show a modicum of enthusiasm. At least he’d get points for effort, as there’d be none awarded for style.
“Yup, nothing to it,” Kate said confidently.
The boys had mustered up the courage to speak to the girls as they all congregated at the far end of the bar, seemingly relaxed. Kate looked around for the other couple and spotted them outside the door. The woman seemed upset. She was trying to go up the stairs. The man was trying to mollify her, pulling her from behind. Kate watched mesmerised, as he stroked her cheek and whispered in her ear. David was still next to her, mouthing “uno, dos, tres … cinco, seis, siete,” as he continued to bob up and down.
Isabel called the group back to the dance floor. Kate couldn't take her eyes off the couple. She watched with fascination as the man drew the beautiful woman into his arms. He picked up a strand of her hair and ran it through his fingers, looking at his partner with such intensity that it made Kate shiver. The woman still appeared to want to leave, but his powers of persuasion were working. Just a few more strokes of her face and whisperings in her ear, and she finally came around, allowing herself to be led back through the doors and onto the dance floor; this time with a smile on her face.
Kate wondered what he could’ve whispered to have caused such a dramatic change of attitude. As they entered the dance floor, the man spotted Kate looking at him and winked. Caught as a voyeur, the blood rushed to her cheeks. Kate tried hard to pretend that she hadn’t been watching them by keeping her eyes fixed to the point just beyond his head and a blank expression on her face. Thank goodness the room was so dark.
During the second half of the class, they concentrated on learning the next steps. It seemed inconceivable that in one hour, they’d only mastered two steps. As hopeful as Kate was, she couldn’t imagine they’d be dancing Salsa in the clubs anytime soon, if this was their rate of progress. Perhaps they might have to do an intermediate class before they went public.
“I’m not coming again,” David stated matter-of-factly when Isabel announced that the class was over.
“But you promised me.” Kate looked down at her feet, exhausted. If only she had the same persuasion skills as the blonde man had with his partner. She reached up to grab a strand of David’s hair and tried to mirror the actions of the man. David manoeuvred himself away from her, swiping her hand as if she were an irritating mosquito. “No, I’m sorry. I can’t do this in Spanish. We have to do an activity that I can understand. I didn’t get a thing she was saying.”
“But she didn’t say anything, only one, two, three, five, six, seven.” Kate’s face pulled into a grimace.
“Ha bloody ha. That was today. What happens when the steps get more complicated, and she says things like twirl, or swirl or kick or flick? No, sorry, I can’t do it in Spanish.”
Kate didn’t want to get into it there, but she found it amusing that David’s understanding of Salsa would be that they would be kicking, flicking, twirling and swirling. Determined not to give up so soon, she went to speak to Isabel. Perhaps she knew of an English Salsa teacher in the area. Fat chance .
David watched Kate gesticulating with her hands and started praying. Please don’t let her know of an English-speaking teacher. Minutes later, Kate rushed back to him with a huge grin on her face. This isn’t good. This is bad. David groaned.
“You’ll never guess what?” she said.
“What?” He sounded distinctly disinterested, having already presumed he’d extricated himself.
“You’ll never guess.”
“What?”
“Fabulous news. She’s doing the next class in English because most of this group doesn’t even speak Spanish. Guess she’s going to do a crash course and learn the few relevant words that she needs to know, no doubt including twirl, flick and swirl,” Kate said cheekily.
There was very little David could say and, he wondered, as they walked out of the club, what body part he might have to break in order to get out of this? Ten weeks seemed like a life sentence to him. Perhaps he could buy her something to get out of this predicament.
As they walked towards the stairs, Kate heard the tail end of the conversation between the man and the stunning woman, “Robert, I no come next week”—she was saying to him in a strong accent—“I no like it. I really no come at all.” Kate couldn't pinpoint where she was from exactly; clearly somewhere exotic with those looks.
The man seemed to ignore his distressed partner and turned back towards Kate. Their eyes locked. This time, Kate didn’t avert her eyes. She found herself hypnotised and inexplicably drawn to him. She shuddered involuntarily but still held his gaze.