Pretending to Dance (28 page)

Stacy and I danced like crazy, teaching some of the adults the electric slide and a few other dances we knew. I watched for Amalia, thinking it would be fun to dance with her, but I didn't see her. Everyone seemed to like being surprised by the music, waiting after each song to hear what would come next, sometimes laughing when the music started, sometimes groaning, but nearly everyone was on their feet.

After a while, Stacy and I piled little plates with cheese and crackers and sat scrunched together on one of the big speakers in the corner of the pavilion to people-watch while we ate. Most people danced on the wooden floor, but some of them spilled onto the lawn, which was only one big step down from the platform. Many of the women danced in their bare feet. I watched them move around on the rough grass and leaned over to shout in Stacy's ear, “They'll have chigger bites in the morning!”

“Along with their hangovers!” Stacy laughed.

There were so many people, a lot of them strangers to me, that Nanny's initial refusal to invite Amalia seemed particularly mean and ridiculous. Amalia and my mother could both be here and not even see each other, not that I thought either one of them would care one little bit.

Janet and Peter and Peter's wife, Helen, had all arrived together, and Janet had a man with her, so there went my idea of fixing her up with Russell. The man she was with was tall and blond and I thought he looked like a Viking. She had on her Whitney Houston wig and she and the Viking looked amazing together, especially when they danced. By comparison, Peter and Helen seemed subdued, keeping to themselves in one little spot on the pavilion. They nibbled things from a shared plate and talked to each other as if they were socially inept, which I knew they were not. At one point Russell pushed Daddy over to them and left him there for a while. The three of them talked, but there were no smiles or party faces, although my father had his back to me so I couldn't see his expression. It made me wonder about Peter's so-called professional jealousy and if that was what was behind his serious look tonight. When Russell came back to wheel Daddy away, Helen bent over and hugged my father, holding on to him for a long time, her cleavage practically in his face. It was sort of bizarre.

Stacy leaned over to speak in my ear. “No one would miss us if we went into the woods and smoked a J,” she said, nodding toward the woods at the side of the pavilion. I still hadn't decided if we should try to sneak away or not. I saw Nanny walking toward us at that moment and knew that we wouldn't be sneaking anywhere quite yet.

“Hi, Nanny!” I shouted over the music.

“Hi, dear!” she shouted back. She wore a loose red blouse over a long white skirt and lots of gold jewelry, and her hair was in some sort of updo. I wasn't used to seeing her dressed up. “Didn't we pick a perfect night for this?” she asked.

“Yes,” I agreed, as though we had something to do with the weather.

Nanny leaned over to get a good look at Stacy. “The girl on the bike, right?” she asked.

“Right.” Stacy smiled her beauty queen smile. “I'm Stacy.”

“Welcome, dear,” Nanny said. Then she frowned as a new song poured out of the speakers. “What the heck kind of music is this?” she asked.

I laughed. “Michael Jackson, Nanny,” I said. “It's called ‘Thriller.'”

Just then, Janet and her Viking lookalike boyfriend danced past us on the pavilion floor, the Viking doing a decent moonwalk. Stacy and I laughed, but Nanny shook her head.

“It's called moonwalking, Nanny,” I said, though I wasn't sure if she was reacting to the dance or to seeing a black woman and white man dancing together. I thought Russell was the first black person Nanny'd ever really gotten to know.

I saw Russell now as he pushed Daddy toward us across the pavilion.

“Hey, girls. Hey, Mom,” Daddy said, when Russell parked him between us and Nanny. He was facing the dance floor. “Great shindig, don't you think?” I couldn't tell if he was talking to Nanny or to Stacy and me.

“It's wonderful,” Nanny said, her voice suddenly thick. She reached down and lifted my father's hand into both of hers. Gently, she kneaded his useless fingers and I felt my eyes burn. What was it like, watching your grown child being taken inch by inch by such a cruel disease? I wished Stacy wasn't sitting between me and my father and Nanny right then. I wanted to be a part of them at that moment.

Russell sat down in the white plastic chair next to me. “Feels good to sit,” he said. His voice was loud above the music. “Crazy mix tape you came up with,” he added, and I laughed.

Next to me, Stacy suddenly caught her breath. She tipped her head toward mine and whispered in my ear, “Isn't that woman your…” She nodded toward the dancers and I spotted the woman she was looking at: Amalia. The music had changed to Eric Clapton's “Layla,” and Amalia was on the dance floor—where else would she be?—dressed in a gauzy turquoise skirt and a tank top the same color, her thick hair spilling over her shoulders.

I whispered back, “Yes,” I said. “Amalia.”

Amalia was dancing with an older man I didn't know, and I wondered if it was the doctor my mother had mentioned in the kitchen that afternoon. But she only danced with him a moment before moving on to another partner, and then on to the Viking, and the sea of dancers parted a little to let them have the floor. Maybe this was why Nanny hadn't wanted Amalia here. She was like a magnet, attracting everyone's attention. It was impossible for her to simply disappear into the crowd. My mother, wherever she was, could hardly avoid seeing her. Amalia spun around the floor with the Viking for a moment, then turned him loose and headed for Peter, who held up his hands to ward her off. Peter was smiling but immovable, and everyone laughed as she gave up, twirling in a circle as she looked for her next partner. I saw her zero in on Russell and knew she was about to be turned down again. But she grabbed Russell by the hand and pulled him out of his chair and onto the dance floor before he could protest. Next to Stacy, Daddy laughed.

“Come on, man!” Daddy shouted to him. “Show her what you've got!”

To my absolute shock, Russell turned into a dancing machine, rocking his hips, punching the air with his arms, bopping his head. I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard my father laugh so hard, while I gaped openmouthed at this new side of Russell.

“Woo-hoo!” Stacy cheered, fists in the air.

“Oh, good heavens,” Nanny said, turning away from them as though the very sight of Amalia and Russell dancing together offended her, which I supposed it did.

“Mother.”
Daddy was still laughing. “Get a grip.”

Amalia finished the dance with Russell and curtsied to him as he left the dance floor. He was grinning when he walked back to us, and Amalia moved away from our side of the pavilion, most likely looking for her next partner.

“High five!” Daddy said to Russell, who lifted my father's arm so he could high-five him. Russell laughed as he took his seat next to me again, beads of sweat on his forehead.

“That was awesome!” Stacy leaned past me to say to him, and he smiled at her. I had the feeling that, with those three words, she might have changed Russell's negative feelings about her. I hoped so, anyway.

*   *   *

After a while, Nanny disappeared into the crowd of people and Russell and Daddy went to check out Uncle Jim's beer tasting. I looked at Stacy. “Finally!” I said. “Let's go.”

We quickly left the pavilion, keeping the giant lights and speaker between us and the crowd as we jumped to the ground and made our way quickly to the woods. The music grew muffled behind us as we slipped between the trees. I led the way, grateful for the nearly full moon.

“This is far enough, isn't it?” Stacy asked after we'd gone a short distance. I remembered how nervous she'd been when we'd had to walk through the woods near the springhouse that night we slept out there.

“A little farther,” I said. She would probably not be happy to discover where I was taking us.

Soon, the woods opened up to a small rectangular clearing.

“We're here,” I said. “This is perfect.”

“Where are we?” she asked. Then she seemed to catch on as the moonlight cast boxy shadows on the ground. “Oh no!” She took a step backward. “Is this the graveyard?”

I laughed. “It's a good place to sit,” I said, climbing over the low iron fence, which was nearly invisible in the darkness. I sat down on the ground, leaning against one of the three big double headstones. I wasn't sure whose it was and didn't really want to know. My grandpa Arnette was buried beneath one of them. His name was on one half of the headstone, while the other half remained blank, waiting for Nanny. That was a little creepy, and I hoped I wasn't resting against their stone. I was acting much braver than I felt.

Stacy reluctantly climbed over the fence and sat down next to me. “You know,” she said, “I really like your house and even your springhouse and your family and Russell and everything, but there's still something spooky about Morrison Ridge.”

“Well, let's smoke your joint and then we won't care,” I said.

She reached into the side of her tank top and brought out the joint and the matches. She lit the joint and we both took a hit from it. I leaned my head back against the cool headstone and closed my eyes, waiting to feel something. I could hear the music from the party. I loved how it sounded from this distance, dampened by the woods. I loved how the rise and fall of the music played against the steady hum of voices and the occasional peal of laughter that bounced off the trees around us.

Stacy suddenly let out a yelp and I opened my eyes to see her jump to her feet. Two figures had risen up from one of the other double headstones and were moving toward us. I tried to jump to my own feet, but I was so shocked I couldn't move. Then I saw the white Mohawk catch the moonlight and let out my breath. Dani and her friend.

“It's only my cousin,” I said to Stacy, tugging the hem of her skirt as Dani's pale face came into view.

“Boo!” her weird friend said as they walked closer to us. In the darkness, they seemed to float.

“You two going to share that joint with us?” Dani asked.

“You scared the shit out of me!” Stacy said. She sat down next to me again and I felt the tremor in her body. I was shaking myself. I didn't know if Dani would narc on us, but the fact that she wanted to share the joint seemed like a good sign.

I took the joint from Stacy's hand and held it out to my cousin. Dani took it from me, and then she and the boy with the Mohawk sat down across from us, their backs against another of the headstones.

Dani took a long hit on the joint. “This is my cousin Molly and her friend,” she said to the boy, her voice straining as she tried to hold in the smoke. She looked at Stacy. “I don't remember your name,” she said.

“Stacy,” Stacy said.

“And this is Ralph.” Dani nodded to the boy, who now had possession of the joint.

Ralph? The name of Michael's penis in
Forever
? I didn't dare look at Stacy. I was sure we were both cracking up inside.

“Hi,” I managed to say. Ralph said nothing, but he leaned forward to hand the joint to me and I took another hit and passed it to Stacy. I was beginning to feel it now. My arm seemed to belong to someone else when Stacy took the joint from me.

“You two shouldn't be doing this.” Dani motioned to the joint. “You're only what? Twelve now?”

“Fourteen,” I said. She knew perfectly well how old I was. She was just trying to put me down in front of her boyfriend or whatever he was.
She acted like your personal bodyguard,
Chris had said about Dani. Why was she such a bitch to me, then? She was probably still angry with me for hitting her. I thought I could still see the shadow of a bruise on her cheek, but it may have been the way the moonlight fell on her face.

“Do you go to Owen High?” Stacy asked Ralph.

His slit-eyed nod was barely perceptible and I had the feeling our joint was not the first he'd smoked that night.

“Do you know Bryan Watkins?” Stacy asked.

Ralph nodded. “Asshole,” he said, and Stacy wrinkled her nose at him.

“Like you would have a clue,” she said.

“He probably has more of a clue than you ever will,” Dani said snottily.

I wanted to put an end to this stupid conversation, afraid it was about to escalate, but before I could think of something to say, the steady hum of sound coming from the party suddenly ceased as though someone had flipped a switch. We all turned our heads in the direction of the pavilion. We couldn't hear a thing.

“What's going on?” Stacy asked.

“I don't know,” I said. “Maybe someone's going to make a speech or something?”

We heard a sudden shout. I couldn't tell if it had come from a man or a woman, but I was certain there was alarm in the sound.

“Something weird is happening,” I said, getting to my feet. I stepped over the fence and headed through the woods in the direction of the pavilion. I could hear a couple of male voices now, loud and angry. I picked up my speed and heard Stacy close behind me, probably not wanting to lose sight of me in the dark woods. I thought Dani was behind me as well, though I didn't turn to see.

When I broke free of the woods, I saw the pavilion illuminated by the four floodlights, the partygoers frozen in a sea of color. There was no music. No dancing. Just those angry voices. Most of the people stood clotted together on one side of the platform and soon I was close enough to see what they were looking at: my father and Uncle Trevor in the middle of an argument at one side of the platform.

“… sick of talking about this!” my father shouted when I reached the corner of the pavilion. “Leave it alone, will you? No one's selling any land to you, and if you—”