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"We got a call from Connie Jaslow," Sylvia said two weeks later. "She wants to hire three couples to
dance at a party she's putting on. Since it's warm, she's determined to have a tropical theme."
Rue and Sean, Julie and Thompson, and the third pair of dancers, Megan and Karl, were sitting in the
padded folding chairs that Sylvia usually pushed against the walls. For this meeting, they'd pulled the
chairs in front of Sylvia's desk.
"She'd like the gals to wear sort of DorothyLamour -style outfits, and the guys to wear loincloths and
ankle bracelets. She wants some kind of 'native-looking' dance."
"Oh, for God's sake!" said Karl, disgust emphasizing his German accent.
"Connie Jaslow is one of our big repeat customers," Sylvia said. Her eyes went from one to the other of
them. "I agree the idea is silly, but Connie pays good money."
"Let's see the costumes," Julie said. Rue had decided Julie was a good-hearted girl, and almost as
practical as Sylvia.
"This was what she suggested," Sylvia said. She held up a drawing. The women's costume showed belly
button; it was a short flowered skirt, wrapped to look vaguely sarong like, with a matching bra. The long
black wig was decorated with artificial flowers.
Rue tried to imagine what she would look like in it, and she thought she'd look pretty good. But then she
re-evaluated the low-rider skirt. "It would be that low?" she asked.
"Yes," Sylvia said. "Showing your navel is in right now, and Connie wanted a sort of update to the island
look."
"Can't do it," Rue said.
"Something wrong with your button?" teased Thompson.
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"My stomach," Rue said, and hoped she could leave it at that.
"I can't believe that. You're as lean as you can be," Sylvia said sharply. She wasn't used to being
thwarted.
Rue had a healthy respect for her employer. She knew Sylvia would demand proof. Better to get it over
with. Dancers learned to be practical about their bodies. Rue stood abruptly enough to startle Sean, who
was leaning against the wall by her chair. Rue pulled up her T-shirt, unzipped her jeans and found she'd
worn bikini panties, so she hardly had to push them down. "This would show," Rue said, keeping her
voice as level as she could.
The room was silent as the dancers gazed at the thick, jagged scar that ran just to the left of Rue's navel.
It descended below the line of the white bikinis.
"Good God, woman!" Karl said. "Was someone trying to gut you?"
"Give me a hysterectomy." Rue pulled her clothes back together.
"We couldn't cover that with makeup," Sylvia said. "Or could we?"
The other two couples and Sylvia discussed Rue's scarred stomach quite matter-of-factly, as a problem
to solve.
The debate continued while Rue sat silently, her arms crossed over her chest to hold her agitation in. She
became aware that she wasn't hearing a word from Sean. Slowly, she turned to look up at her partner's
face. His blue eyes were full of light. He was very angry, livid with rage.
The dispassionate attitudes of the others had made her feel a bit more relaxed, but seeing his rage, Rue
began to feel the familiar shame. She wanted to hide from him. And she couldn't understand that, either.
Why Sean, whom she knew better than any of the other dancers?
"Rue," Sylvia said, "are you listening?"
"No, sorry, what?"
"Megan and Julie think they can cover it up," Sylvia said. "You're willing to take the job if we can get
your belly camouflaged?"
"Sure," she told Sylvia, hardly knowing what she was saying.
"All right, then, two Fridays from now. You all start working on a long dance number right away, faux
Polynesian. You'll go on after the jugglers. Julie and Thompson are booked for a party this Saturday
night, and Karl and Megan, you're doing a dinner dance at the Cottons' estate on Sunday. Sean, you and
Rue are scheduled to open a 'big band' evening at the burn unit benefit."
Rue tried to feel pleased, because she loved dancing to big band music, and she had a wonderful forties
dress to wear, but she was still too upset about revealing her scar. What had gotten into her? She'd tried
her best to conceal it for years, and all of a sudden, in front of a roomful of relative strangers, she'd pulled
down her jeans and shown it to them.
And they'd reacted quite calmly. They hadn't screamed, or thrown up, or asked her what she'd done to
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deserve that. They hadn't even asked who'd done it to her. To Rue's astonishment, she realized that she
was more comfortable with this group of dancers than she was with the other college students. Yet most
of those students came from backgrounds that were much more similar to hers than, say, Julie's. Julie had
graduated from high school pregnant, had the baby and given it up to the parents of the father. Now she
was working nonstop, hoping to gather enough money to buy a small house. If she could do that, she'd
told Rue, the older couple would let her have the baby over for the weekends. Megan, a small, intense
brunette, was dancing to earn money to get through vet school. She'd seen Rue's stomach and
immediately begun thinking how to fix it. No horror, no questions.
The only one who'd reacted with deep emotion had been Sean. Why was he so angry? Her partner felt
contempt for her, she decided. Scarred and marred, damaged. If Rue hadn't felt some measure of blame,
she could have blown off Sean's reaction, but part of her had always felt guilty that she hadn't recognized
trouble, hadn't recognized danger, when it had knocked on her door and asked her out for a date.
That night, when they both left the studio, Sean simply began walking by her side.
"What are you doing?" Rue asked, after giving him a couple of blocks to explain himself. She stopped in
her tracks.
"I am going in the same direction you are," he said, his voice calm.
"And how long are you gonna be walking in that direction?"
"Probably as far as your steps will take you."
"Why?"
There it was again, in his eyes, the rage. She shrank back.
"Because I choose to," he said, like a true aristocrat.
"Let me tell you something, buddy," she began, poking him in the chest with her forefinger. "You'll walk
me home if I ask you to, or if I let you, not just because you 'choose' to. What will you do if Ichoosenot
to let you?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]