Page 62 of Love Resurrected
The dancers introduce themselves as Gerardo and Lilliana—what we’ve just witnessed is the Argentine tango—and call for volunteers to step up and learn the dance.
No one comes forward.
Gerardo circles the room completely in time with the sensual music that has started again in the background. He’s dressed in all black and moves like a panther stalking his prey, sinewy and sleek. He grabs my hand and pulls me to the middle of the floor motioning for Lilliana to do the same with Brad. Nessa must have made a motion toward us because I know nothing about either of our body language suggests the two of us dancing together would be a good idea.
Gerardo and Lilliana shove Brad and I together, as though we belong that way. Brad stands, stiff and unyielding, as I embody awkwardness and oafish tendencies. Lilliana takes my arms and places one hand on Brad’s opposite shoulder while Gerardo sets Brad’s hand at my waist. They take our free hands and join them together, forcing our fingers to entwine. Lilliana kicks my feet apart slightly and tells me to loosen my knees.
Luckily, I changed into strappy sandals from my flip-flops before we left—I can’t imagine trying to do any kind of dancing in a shoe so loosely attached to my feet.
Brad stares off over my shoulder, his gaze hard and jaw set—no one had to kick his feet apart or caution him about his knees. I focus on the small piece of lint stuck to his shoulder. Gerardo and Lilliana join in a similar embrace beside us and demonstrate the steps we’ll be taking. Neither Brad nor I watch them. I try to listen but all my attention, all my focus, is hyper-aware of how close together we are standing. The heat of his touch seeps through the thin fabric of my dress where his hand rests at my waist.
We stand, stilted and tense, unmoving and aloof.
“No, no.” Lilliana leaves her partner and rushes toward us, pushing our heads together, then addresses Brad. “This dance is one of seduction. Your connection begins with your eyes and moves through the rest of your body. Show her the desire with your gaze.” She turns to me. “And you, you must let him see you are open to his passion. You are willing woman with lust all your own.”
I giggle at that.
She rejoins Gerardo and the music starts anew, with him calling out the steps we are to emulate as they move. “Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow.”
I watch as the two move effortlessly around us, my head turning with them. Brad remains impervious to everything around him despite the fact I am in his arms and we are in the midst of an impromptu dance lesson.
“Feel the down beat with your body,” Gerardo instructs, his head moving at a rhythmic pace.
I do as he suggests and nod in time with the music.
Brad smirks, the first sign of life he’s shown since we started.
“Now you try.” Gerardo claps his hands to the same beat and Brad moves us forward. Well, him forward and me backward. My feet have yet to cooperate because I step down on Brad’s toes. Hard.
To his credit, he remains silent, but I catch the wince of pain that crosses his face. As we begin a turn, I’m unexpectedly whisked into Gerardo’s arms. Lilliana steps into Brad’s embrace and we all move. Usually, I find it difficult to follow a man when dancing because my muscles just don’t want to cooperate in that respect. Not that they would cooperate in any other respect either. But with Gerardo talking to me as we move, telling me to step with the downbeat and walking me through each step as we go, I start to get it.
Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow.
The beat I nod my head to.
Okay, got that.
And we move with something that feels a bit like grace.
Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow.
Of course, every time he says that, all I can think about is that song from the late 80s, “Dancing in Heaven Orbital Be-Bop,” which starts out the same way. Sadie had a recital using that song and we listened to it a thousand times as she practiced.
Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow.
I wonder if it’s possible to tango to that song as well.
I miss a few steps, thanks to my musings, and return my attention to what Gerardo is trying to teach me. I watch my feet to make sure they are slowing and quickening appropriately, but Gerardo shakes his head and tsk’s at me, then forces my chin up so I’m looking at him instead.
I want to tell him I can’t see where my feet are going if I’m looking at him, but I don’t. Instead, I peek at Brad and see he’s doing great. His form looks good, he’s maintaining eye contact with Lilliana, and seems to be enjoying himself.
So weird.
As the song ends, Gerardo steps aside. “You’ve done well. Great job.”
I know enough to know he’s being polite, but I don’t care. Lilliana leads Brad over to us and announces that we will now dance together.
“Oh, I, uh . . .” I start.
