Dancing Hours (2 page)

“Yes it is”

“Is it 9 to 10:30?”  He looked at his watch.  “It is 9:48 AM which is between 9 and 10:30.”  He showed her on his digital watch – “Can you read those numbers?”

She started… “
eight
”

“No, you start with the one on this side, the left.”
He said

“Which way is left?”
she asked.

Th
eir
conversation went on and I
went back to reading
.  I was done
working early
, but I always stayed until 10:30 just in case someone needed lost and found
or some of the elderly women needed help getting their laundry from one machine to the other.
  During the school year, I used the
spare
time to study.  In the summer, I mostly spent it reading or texting my friends.

A few minutes after I opened my book behind the low counter, the bouncy girl came up to me “Where’s Andy?”  I looked up at her and smiled. 
“Right here.”
I pointed to myself.  She laughed like I was teasing her.  “Andy is a
boy
’s name.”
she
said.

It was my turn to laugh.  “You’re right.  Usually it is short for Andrew.  I’m Andrea, but I go by Andy.”  I held out my hand, not sure if she would get the idea to shake it. 

“My name is Jessica
Bastion
” she didn’t shake my hand and I pulled it back. 

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you Jessica
Bastion
.  You know, my best friend’s
middle
name is Jessica.”  Little Jessica’s eyes grew wide. 
“Really?
  Where
is
she?”  I thought for a moment.  “I think she’s at home right now.”

The little girl considered this for a few moments and then changed the subject. 

“I lost something Andy.”
she said looking very serious. 
“I lost my mommy.” 
I
looked around,
confused.  I was pretty sure she had only come in with her father
.
  Before I could formulate an answer, the dad walked up.

He said “Jessica, let’s not bother this nice lady, okay?
”

“But this is
Andy
.” She pleaded as though it made perfect sense.

“What?”
he asked.

“We lost my mommy and
it’s
Saturday at 9, 4, 8 and Andy can help us find her.”
She said matter-of-factly.

If a heart could literally break
into
a
thousand pieces, mine was doing it.
  I wondered immediately if the girl’s mother had recently passed away.
 
I noticed that her father had no wedding ring on. 
The dad was on his knees
murmuring an explanation to
his little girl, but
whatever he said
she didn’t believe him.
  Nearly hysterical
she screamed
“Ask her!”

With exhausted complacency, the dad stood up and said “She’d like to know if you know where her mother is.” 
His expression
was one of apology and a bit of pleading.  We both looked down at Jessica and I got down on
my knees to look her in the eyes.  I
said
“
Sweetie, I’m sorry.  I don’t know where your mommy is… but I do know a little trick about that machine over there and I happen to have a pocket full of quarters.  You
wanna
go win something?”
  I made the happiest face I could manage and hoped that she’d take the bait.

She paused for a little bit
looking over at the claw game
and I wondered if she was trying to decide whether to have a melt-down.  When she opened her mouth again, I was ready for just about anything.  What came out, though, was a pleasant surprise… almost a whisper. “Can I have the giraffe?”
she asked.
  I laughed. 

“Well, let’s give it a try.”
I said, taking her by the hand.

The dad cautiously went back to his laundry while Jessica and I tried our best to get the giraffe.  Thirty minutes later I was out of quarters and we’d only gotten a panda bear.  Jessica was anyt
h
ing but disappointed, but I promised her we could try again next week. 
  It was after 10:30 so I said goodbye and got my things together to leave.  The dad introduced himself to me as David, Mrs. Merchant’s grandson – although clearly no
t
the moto
r
cycle riding one.  He explained unnecessarily that Mrs. Merchant had a very old washing machine and no dryer and that I might see a lot of him.

We chatted for a few more minutes about how they had come to live with Mrs. Merchant.  He seemed like he was suffering from single dad loneliness.  I let him know that I bab
ysit if he ever need
ed
to get out
for a few hours.  He let out a low laugh and rubbed the back of his neck.  “I’ve got to get a job first.” He said, only half joking.

I knew a lot of people around
Palmetto
who had lost their jobs or just were having a hard time making ends meet.  It was unusual for pe
o
ple to move here without a job already lined up here or in
Greenville
– which was a good hour
-long
commute.  So I
told him
that I barter with babysitting and asked what he can do.  This time he laughed heartily “Well, I just finished up an undergrad degree in
English
– so pretty much nothing.”
He said
and we laughed together. 

“Alright then,
I’m sure
we can think of something.”
I offered.

I left with a warm spot in my gut - e
xcitement at meeting someon
e
new, maybe, or anticipation of meeting the motorcycle guy soon.  Maybe
it was
just affection for little Jessica.  Whatever it was, the day felt full of promise.  I went over to the store next to pick up a few things for Nan.  She was
headed for a potluck at
the senior center later and Nan
was not exactly the Betty Homemaker type.  She like
d
the idea of semi-homemade food.

There in the produ
ce section was Mrs. Merchant
looking completely out of p
lace.  She’d had groceries deli
vered to her home for as long as I could remember and I cou
ldn’t recall ever seeing her at the store
.  She looked vibrant and happy to see me.  She explained that she had family to cook for now and the smile on her face could’ve powered the town.  I helped her find some of the things on her list and told her I’d met her grandson and Jessica.

“David?” she asked, but didn’t wait for a response.  “He is such
a
sweet young man.”  She explained that they’d called a few
weeks
ago to see if the
re
was room for them – and Noah, her other gra
n
dson.  Did I meet him?  He’s about my age, she said, but he had a whole lot more growin
g
up to do.

She asked me what little girls like to eat these days and I said it was probably still about the same: macaroni & cheese, peanut butter sandwiches and pizza. 
Mrs. Merchant was wearing a garish red lipstick that emphasized the age of her teeth.  It was rather caked and I guessed it hadn’t been used in a long time. 
She was just buzzing with excitement.  I was happy for her and I wondered how long it had been s
ince she’d seen her family. 

T
he hot motorcycle guy had a name
now
– Noah.  I’d text
Kate
with the information
as soon as I could.  In the meantime, Mrs
.
Merchant and I talked about wha
t was going on in town recently and
her daughter who w
as
visiting also
.
I asked if she had plans to go to the potluck.  She dropped her head and shook it a little – “those old
bitties
don’t know
much
a
bout cooking.” She remarked.  “Don’t get me wrong, your Nan’s a
fine
lady, but she’s given me indigestion more times that I could count.” 

I laughed, loudly.  I doubted Nan would b
e insulted.  She made no secret of her true passion in life – dancing.  Nan’s basically a human peacock, and peacocks don’t cook.

Peacocks’ daughters don’t cook either, that’s sort of the cycle of life.  That’s why I’d eaten
a lot of take-
out growing up.  So
I could honestly say that part of my motivation was sincere when I asked Mrs. Merchant to show me how to cook a few things.  She looked just tickled pink and immediately agreed.  She casually threw in that I might be a good influence for Noah and m
y
heart fluttered a little bit.

Late
r
that afternoon I stopped in at the dance studio
where I’d taken classes
as a kid
.
Miss Celia
was finishing up with a class of 6-8 year olds who looked very much like they did
no
t want to learn ballet and took my arrival as an excuse to interrupt class.

“Girls, and
Adam
, please give a warm welcome to one of our graduates Andrea Taylor.” She said gesturing in my direction with both arms. 
At Miss Celia’s prompting t
he class clapped politely but looked like they’d rather be picking their noses.

“Hi kids!” I exclaimed brightly, hoping to inject some enthusiasm into the room.  It didn’t work.
  The kids stood glumly over by the wall of mirrors that lined the large single room studio.  Chairs were lining the wall next to the street and a handful of parents sat there chatting with one another.  Above them was a wall of windows that looked out across the street to another wall of windows that peeked in on the only gym in town – owned by Celia’s husband,
Tony
Lazarro
.  The gym’s mirrors were along the back wall so that if you
were paying enough attention standing in the middle of the dance studio, you could see yourself in both mirrors.