Page 15 of You Spin Me

“Sagittarius.”

“How did you get into acting?”

“Nope, no fair. No throwing it back to me.” I swear I’ve never known a guy who talks about himself less than this one. “It’s all Cal, all the time, on this call. Come on. You’re a DJ. That is very cool.”

“Nah, it’s just a lot of pushing buttons.”

“You have to know a lot about music.”

“Yeah, but that’s easy. I’m interested in it. Anybody could do what I do.”

“Not me.”

“Why not?”

“I’m sure I would push the wrong buttons. I can’t even get the stereo at the school to play half the time. At least I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“You’re finished?”

“Yep. Today was my last day.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I cried. I cry at everything, though. The huge bouquet of flowers that some of the moms got me is sitting on my kitchenette bar right now, and I can’t even look at it without my eyes leaking. Even though it was mostly aerobics this year, I’m really going to miss the kids.”

“What will you miss about them?”

“Kids are refreshing. They say what they think.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem.” His voice shifts into a new gear and I think I hear a note of bitterness. “Kids can be cruel.”

“It sounds like you speak from experience.”

“Yeah.” Definitely bitter. “Uh, hang on. I’ll be back.”

I’m wondering what nerve I hit as I listen to Cal talk—not to me but to all of Boston. I’m still not used to the transition when he switches from one mode to the other. When he announces that the next song is “If You Were Here” by the Thompson Twins, his voice still sounds a bit off, but he doesn’t miss a beat.

“Hey, I’m back. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I mean, I hope I’m not distracting you.”

“It’s fine.”

Definitely not fine. “So, you were saying?”

“I… don’t remember. We were talking about your teaching job ending.”

“Right.” Interesting sidestep. “Well, something I learned from teaching is that the meanest kids are usually the ones who are hurting the most.”

“Huh.”

“Kids don’t cover up their feelings, at least the younger ones. When they’re excited, it’s full-on. Or sad, or mad. I love getting them to channel all that energy into dance. Even the shy ones, the ones who don’t talk. They might not have words for their feelings but their bodies express it for them. I had choreography and a plan for every class, but half the time I’d make something up on the spot to, like, move the feelings around. Does that make sense?”

“Not really, but… well, maybe. I mean, I think I get what you’re talking about, but I can’t even begin to imagine how you do that.”

“Well, do you spin at clubs too?”

“Yeah, some.”

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