âI'm thirty. My birthday was October 12th.'
âSo you're a Libran. I'm Gemini. I think our signs get along, don't they?'
âI don't know. I don't follow the stars.' She regarded Devon silently, thinking how dramatic she appeared in the subdued lights of the bar. The cheek bones looked to have been sculptured by a master craftsman. That scatter of freckles entranced her. She could sit and watch forever. In her turn, Devon was reflecting on the parts of her story she was omitting. She had had many female lovers too. In fact, she thought, you could describe her as bi-sexual, but she hated labels. It was just that she couldn't resist a beautiful face and men always found her attractive. She simply couldn't say no to power and money. It was very difficult. Time was slipping away, especially if she wanted a family. But then, could she tolerate screaming tantrums, however cute the infant? She refocused her mind.
âI'm hoping you'll stick with Belen, Tenille,' she confided sincerely. âI'm very serious when I say you have real talent. Belen was impressed with you last night.'
She wanted to protest she knew nothing of the dance form, but Devon held up a peremptory hand. âHear me out. It's not the steps we're looking at. Those will come with practise. No. It's your look. You have the carriage and the style of a Spanish dancer.' She was emphatic.
Tenille heard the words and was incredulous. Could this mean she might ⦠just might, get somewhere? For the moment she was speechless, her thoughts chaotic. âIs this why you wanted to see me today?' her voice unsteady.
Devon was about to reply when a large man leaned over her shoulder, much too close, asking for a light. His presence seemed grossly intrusive. He leered at Tenille through thick spectacles, his alcoholic breath assaulting Devon's nostrils as he said: âTwo lovelies like you should have company. Mind if I pull up a pew? Name's Richard.' He extended his big paw across the table. Tenille didn't move, just sat there aghast, repelled by this encounter. He looked coarse and hairy; positively odious. Devon, noting her look of distaste, declared assertively: âWe do. Please remove yourself or I shall summon the manager.' Her manner brooked no argument, but he thought he'd go for one more try.
âLet me buy yous both a drink.' He beamed back at Tenille in a vain attempt to bring her on side. âC'mon, what'll you have?' He reckoned she'd be more easily won over than the other one. Prettier too.
âI told you to stop bothering us,' Devon reiterated. âLeave us alone.' She was truly exasperated, her tone menacing. He figured he'd better take off, not one for a scene. Holding up his hands in mock surrender he said: âOK, OK. Just tryin' to be friendly. No need to take the high and mighty.' He shuffled off to his friends at the bar who had that
I told you so
look.
âOaf.' Devon said to his receding back. She checked her watch. âI've got to go. I've an appointment,' she added regretfully. âYou okay to catch your train?'
âNo problem,' she assured her. âI know my way around this part of town.'
âCool.' Devon stood and collected her coat and Tenille did likewise, but decided to wait until she was outside before putting it on. The night air struck them forcefully, sending surface shivers over their faces as each breath cut like ice into their lungs. She made with the parka and scarf in double quick time.
âI'm looking forward to seeing you at class, Tenille. Keep practising. I know you'll do well.' She headed off towards Bay Street.
“Lots of trendy, expensive restaurants over there,”
she thought, as she watched Devon walk away, then turned towards College Station, experiencing the familiar rumble of her belly complaining of its emptiness.
The silence was total, then the train came thundering in, fragmenting the air and jarring the teeth, its wheels screeching on the curve. It came to a halt on a deep sigh. Rush hour over she could be sure of a seat and settled in for the next twenty minutes to let her mind relive this wondrous time. There was something about Devon that got under her skin. She had never been so moved by a woman. It was like she was obsessed. She wished she could see her tomorrow. A small frown drew her eyes together. Five whole days to wait before she would be in her company again. She shook her head. What was happening to her? There was one thing dead right, after months of stagnation life was looking up; things were starting to happen. Friendships were possible. She looked to the window and smiled at its reflection.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Tenille made sure she was early for her next dancing class. There was no way she would risk a repetition of the previous week's entrance. This time there were hooks in abundance to choose from. She looked around for Devon. Wendy came bustling in, in the wake of another girl Tenille hadn't seen before. She was introduced as Daphne van Hoodam.
âYes, I couldn't make it last week, but normally I never miss.' More arrivals and among them Ingrid and Marissa. They were happy to see each other, but had no time to talk. Belen was strict about beginning promptly. Studio time was precious. Her eyes flicked quickly over the assembly. Today she would introduce castanets. She liked to start them early. Young women with sedentary occupations didn't have strong hands, or the required stamina. But for now, it was arms. As she stood in front of the class, facing the mirror, her back to them so they could follow her movements, she checked each one in turn. Devon was right, that new one had a natural grace and style which was perfect for flamenco. The carriage of her head and upper torso had the right lift. Could she maintain it during footwork?
She put on practise music for a run-through of the basic routines. The heavy guitar strums seemed to speak directly to Tenille's soul. She had never been to Spain, but she knew she would love the country. Belen had slowed down an Alegrias, one of the lively dances from Cadiz, whose origins lay in the Jotas of that region. Jotas were the traditional music of Aragon, brought to the Andalusian town during the War of Independence.
âIt wasn't clear,' she elaborated, âwhether the Gypsies had brought a new musical tradition which we now know as Flamenco, about the middle of the 15th century, or whether they developed their own form of music from what was current in southern Spain at that time.
âMany people believe the Hondo style of Flamenco dance came from Hindustan because of the similarity to the way they sing their ragas, as well as the similarity to their dances,' she explained. It was important for the students to have an understanding of what they were getting into.
âHindustan is the region of origin of the Gypsies and this is the reason why Spanish dancing has this distinctive look. Can you try to be Gypsies?' She smiled as they all laughed.
Tenille's body was invaded by the earthy sensuality of the music as they went over and over the different sequences of footwork. She had practised diligently all week, to be ready for the lesson and this fact did not go unobserved by Belen. She could always pick the ones who had put in the time. When she went on to new material she made sure Tenille understood exactly what was expected.
Devon arrived just before the break. Her practise clothes accentuated the lithe angularity of her body, so different from Tenille's curves. She was spare and strong; the movements powerful and controlled. The pelvic bones protruded, but the thighs below were well defined beneath the skirt. Her dancing was compelling. Belen didn't show any surprise or displeasure at this tardiness.
Tenille's face lit up when she saw her, her lips parted in eagerness and Devon gave her a golden smile in return. Marissa picked up on this exchange as her eyes took in the details. She was intrigued to know who had caused Tenille to shimmer just then. She maintained her interest, but this week was more discreet. That sultry face had haunted her dreams and even in waking, visions of her had formed, unbidden, behind her eyelids. Somehow she would find a way to get close to this woman.
Sevillanas time. They went through the first two coplas following Devon on the right side of the room and Belen on the left. After two âgoes' with the music, Belen paired everyone off. As it happened, she'd decided to put Tenille with Marissa. Marissa came to her Monday class too and was a strong dancer. She would be good for Tenille, helping to bring her along. Also, they looked good together, being similar in height and build. Marissa couldn't believe her fortune. Never had she enjoyed dancing Sevillanas so much. Belen and Devon walked through how movement of the two bodies should flow around each other and stressed the importance of eye contact during the steps. No problem.
Break time and Marissa had a better chance for a chinwag. They got to know more about each other and enjoyed the exchange. Eventually Belen clapped her hands and called for order. She was going to introduce a new dance. It was her preference to keep two dances on the go and had chosen the Fandango de Huelva. They listened attentively.
âFandango is the name given to an old Andalusian dance which later became enriched by the influence of flamenco. The Fandango de Huelva is noted for its charm and infectious happiness.' She looked around the room. âNow you will have to try to be charming, happy gypsies.' They chuckled again. âActually, Fandangos have many variations of style depending on whether they originated near the sea, in the hills or by the salt marshes, but we're not going to learn a salt marsh one.' Indicating they should now take their places she walked them through, keeping it simple, knowing the music would be captivating. By the end of the session every face was glowing.
After class the five friends quickly changed and shot off for their coffees. Tenille only had time for a cheery goodbye-wave to Devon. Once settled at the Café Vittorio, Ingrid aired their proposition: The group wondered if she would like to join them Tuesday evenings. They hired a rehearsal room downtown. Delighted to be invited, Tenille then looked crestfallen.
âYou see, I live with my aunt and uncle out at Scarborough Bluffs. They take their guardianship of me quite seriously, being answerable to my mother, who is ⦠old fashioned in her ways.'
âGoodness, Tenille,' Ingrid responded impatiently: âHow old are you?' The rhetorical question gave her cheeks an indignant flush. âWe're not living in the last century, tell her.' As always Ingrid was to the point and the others nodded in agreement.
âI know, Ingrid,' she replied despondently, âbut you don't know my mom ⦠and I'm the one who has to get along with her.'
Marissa spoke up. âCouldn't you move closer to town? Then there'd be no long-distance, late night travel. I understand parents being cautious these days, travelling on streetcars and trains. Mine are the same. They're Italian so us girls used to be chaperoned practically everywhere.' She smiled to herself thinking of all the ruses they'd gotten up to, to avoid detection by an ever-vigilant Mama and Papa.
Tenille hadn't considered a move on her own. Now the seed had been sown, the thought was very appealing. At the break-up, Ingrid and Marissa urged her to give it some serious thought and Daphne produced the suggestion that they too, could help her.
Tenille's brain was in overload, as the train hurtled through the evening blackness towards the chilly, grey waters of the Lake. She had never yet lived on her own. It would be wonderful to have the freedom to come and go as she pleased. She loved her aunt and uncle dearly ⦠but surely it wasn't too much to ask, not to have them clucking over her?
“Devon has her apartment. She leads a wonderful life,”
she mused.
“She's involved in so many activities. I want to be like her.”
She hadn't gotten to talk to Devon at class, but she knew she'd been watching, had felt her interest. It was very exhilarating.
Roger promised to be there in two ticks. While she waited at the station exit she considered her options. If she could persuade them she'd be fine:
“Can very well look after myself, thank you,”
then they could bring pressure to bear on her mother. She resolved to broach the subject tonight, Roger couldn't keep coming and picking her up, especially if she went out weekends. âThey go out too.'
Late in the evening turned out not to be ideal for laying it an the line. They were enjoying their hot chocolates, but Carmel wasn't prepared to go this far with her niece's living arrangements. She looked across at her. For all her thirty years, her face looked especially young and eager tonight. She knew too, how much Doris worried over her daughter ⦠a woman alone.
Tenille tried being persuasive, after all she was not a child. Roger was understanding, but he felt the need to point out that Toronto could be a dangerous city. Very dangerous indeed.
âIt's a cosmopolitan melting pot. You get all the riff-raff and low lifers, my dear.' He scowled and seemed to bristle with memories. âThey are unscrupulous; out for what they can get. They'll rip you off as soon as look at you,' he asserted knowingly. Tenille wondered if someone had tried it on with him? Surely not. She took another searching look. He was far too capable. Perhaps her cousin? Russell worked for STELCO in Burlington, but he was pretty good at taking care of himself.
Carmel wasn't game to make the decision, but she didn't want to cut Tenille off. She could see her point of view. âLet me talk to Doris first. See how she feels about the idea,' she equivocated. This was exactly what she had hoped for. If her aunt was in her corner there was a better possibility her mother would come round.
âIt's only just after ten, Auntie. Can you call her now? It's not too late.'
They turned to look at the grandfather clock, standing in the far corner. No one had heard it chime, they'd been so intent on their affairs. Roger nodded to his wife.
âMight as well try. At least you know you'll get her at this hour.' He gave a crooked smile.