WORK IN PROGRESS: The Dancer

The Situation

Destiny

Juan was like a whirlwind.  He would burst into your life like a sunbeam bursting through the clouds,  and shower you with adoration and attention. He loved fully, without reserve.  He danced like that as well.

I pulled up to the studio in the dark.  Juan,  with his gorgeous mocha body, delicious dark eyes,  and flamboyant personality was practicing his latest routine with his new dance partner. Emma was the stereotypical platinum blonde competitive Dance Sport dancer. Don't call it Ballroom dancing. Only,  she was the only person I knew who fit the stereotype set out in Strictly Ballroom.  Everyone else just loved to dress up and dance, and compete, and generally have fun.

Emma on the other hand was serious.  Her hair was bleached to maximum whiteness and gelled to pristine perfection;  false eyelashes a camel would be proud of; Makeup - always dance ready. But it was her personality that was the real chefs kiss. It was the pinnacle of princess paranoia. She could throw a tantrum that a toddler would applaud, and then ask for pointers to improve their own tantrum game. And the thing that made dancing with her worthwhile? She was brilliant... absolute perfection in her steps,  movement,  timing,  improvisation... you name it, she had it.  And Juan wanted it.

I'd done a little bit of dancing,  but nothing special. Besides, my paid researcher position meant that dancing wasn't a high priority, and so I demoted myself to the social classes... and watching Juan.

I walked in with two Tupperware containers of noodles for dinner.  One for Juan and one for me, seeing as I didn't expect Juan to be released from his punishment disguised as practice until late.  There was already an almighty tantrum in progress.  The screeching was backed by a soundtrack that other couples were using to practice their routines to.

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I waved at my cousin Steven,  and his wife Juliette.  They also competed,  but had the reality check of being able to laugh at their mistakes,  oh and be totally pseudo bitchy about the dance world. Juliette had fallen at a major title comp and still won, in that she literally fell for Steven and in the end married him. If you asked her about her trophies,  he was her favorite.

"Hi Jez," I greeted one of the dancers that was packing up. She smiled back.
"What's going on?"
She rolled her eyes.
"He missed a step." Jez's face took on the most fake shocked look and she clasped her hands together. "How could he!!!" She dramatically lifted her hand to her forehead and sashayed out.
"Enjoy the show,  Destiny,  it's a doozy tonight." She yelled behind her.

I pulled a face at her partner following her out.
'She's not wrong, " He laughed.
I put the containers in the kitchen and walked to the dressing rooms.

Emma was still going strong, I knocked on the door.  It opened with all the drama of an underachieving starlet, determined to make it in the big screen with her big personality.
"See if you can make him see sense!" She declared as she stomped elegantly away.

Juan was seething in the middle of the room, hands on his hips,  you could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears.  I crept in to face him. 
"Hi-i," I said. I could see his jaw ticking. "I brought food?"
He glanced at me,  and a little of the fire faded. He strode up to me and cradled my face.
"Chuchu, you are my savior." He declared, and planted a kiss on my lips. Then he followed his dance partner out of the door.

I took a moment to compose myself. His kiss as always made my knees weak.  He had other tricks as well of course.  But that kiss, with its implied desperation and desire,  combined with his concentration was a sure fire winner. 

Once I was sure of my balance, I turned to follow Juan. I walked into the kitchen where I heard Emma talking more normally. 
"Oh that hit the spot." Emma sighed as I walked in. She was scraping the last of my meal out of the container and into her perfect rosebud mouth.  Juan had barely cracked his.
"Destiny is a fantastic chef." Juan agreed.  "You are amazing, meu fofinho. But where is your meal?" He said acknowledging me,  and adding a dash of surprise to the same sentence.
I pointed to the container in Emma hands, currently being clear mined for the last thread of noodles and/or sauce. I'm not sure which it was,  but if she dug any deeper she would be scraping plastic onto her fork.
"Emma!" Juan admonished. She barely looked up as she licked her lips and sniffed.
"Oh well,  she could stand to lose a few, and I was hungry."
I waited for Juan's response. But there was nothing.  I glanced at him finishing an eye roll and shovelling his noodles in like an open mouth mobile phone game.  Emma stood up,
"Ok I'm done,  back to work." She sashayed out back to the dance floor and proceeded to go through her steps out of time with the music. The container left on the table.
"Thankyou,  meu bem" Juan shoved his empty container at me and ran out . I looked at the mess and sighed. 
I couldn't do it any more.

This wasn't the first time,  and despite all my talking, negotiating, efforts... you name it, I have done it... to maintain my relationship, I was relegated to second to last place again.
I collected up the dishes, washed the utensils so no one else had to,  then walked back to my car,  and drove off.  I kept my phone handy to see how long it would take him to notice. I was in bed and almost asleep by the time a message came through. That message was Juan coming home and crawling into bed too. He commenced snoring immediately.  I guess he hadn't noticed me leaving the studio at all.