A Nerd, a Tough Kid and the Wonder of Dance

Chapter 18: not a good start

It had been nearly eighteen months since I'd let my dancing slide, so I expected to see some changes in the personnel at the dance classes. I didn't really feel nervous, more excited than anything.

I saw her quickly - Jena. She was away from the main group, over in a corner of the studio, working on routines with a young male dancer. She spotted me and stopped. We stared at each other for a few moments, both of us with surprised looks on our faces. Then she gave me a diluted version of her big smile and went back to practising.

It had been three years since I'd last seen Jena and it had been at least two and a half since I'd rung her. I had felt some pangs of guilt about that at times but had done nothing. And here she was, looking good - fit and well.

We managed a few quick words later. She claimed to be fully recovered after a long and difficult rehabilitation program. She had been back dancing for six months; slowly at first, but now fully into it.

I didn't get to tell her much about myself, except that I was back living at home.

As the weeks went by, Jena and I didn't get to talk a lot and then it was just neutral pleasantries like: 'How's your folks?', 'I'm working in a stationery shop', 'How's uni?' and so on. But we frequently caught each other giving odd wondering looks at the other one. I'm not sure what it all meant.

Nevertheless, despite this confusion, there was one thing that I was sure of, and that was this feeling of an almost gnawing hunger, an increasing desire/need to get back to dancing with Jena once more. However, that didn't seem likely to happen. Her new dance partner was called Stefan. He was a fine-looking young man, a few years older than Jena and me. When dancing solo, he was elegant and graceful, but when doing a duet with Jena, it was a different story. It simply wasn't working right.

I understood that they were hoping to soon enter a major competition - the Festival Dance Event. The auditions were only six weeks away. They didn't have a prayer.

And there was a complication. It was obvious that Jena and Stefan were an 'item', that they were going out together.

So be it, I guess. Still, "Damn."

One day after the class finished, Jena and I found ourselves walking home together like we used to. To my astonishment, she rummaged in her bag, took out a cigarette and lit it.

"Jena, you don't smoke."

"I do now," she responded abruptly.

Impulsively, I grabbed the cigarette out of her mouth and threw it in the gutter.

"Garth, leave me alone," she snapped, "I'm grown up now, you don't tell me what to do."

"Okay, okay," I held my palms up in a conciliatory manner, "It's just that I don't understand."

"Stefan smokes, he says it helps to keep the weight off. So I've started."

I gave her a doubtful look, and I suspect, a very disapproving look. I didn't like this smoking business.

Jena dug in her bag and got out another cigarette. She lit it and glared at me. "I'll do what I fucking like, Garth. I will, so . . . so . . . just . . . just fuck off."

Her voice broke as she said those last words.

"Suit your fucking self," I spat out and strode off down the road leaving her to do whatever she damn well liked.

What was wrong with her? I'd never heard Jena swear like that before, or seen her get so angry. Did that blasted Stefan have something to do with this? And what the hell was I doing? Come on, get a grip on yourself, man.