Walking over to Maloney's, their bodies vibrated to the dull rumble of the subway beneath their feet, hot air blasting up their legs as they crossed the vents.
After the coat check it was onto the bar. She figured Devon must come here often; the bartender greeted her by name and knew what she drank. She decided to be more game herself and ordered a Rusty Nail. Tonight, being later, there were no tables available so they remained where they were, looking out at the crowd. A striking Eurasian woman was playing the piano, her music relaxing; show tunes from Miss Saigon and Cats. They listened with pleasure.
This evening, Tenille was getting a share of admiring glances and not just from Devon. Her clothes selection had been studied; another reason why she felt more at ease. Devon liked the dusky rose of her severely tailored blouse which she wore with dark navy pants. It showed off the gloss of her lustrous, almost blue-black hair which shimmered about her as she tossed her head and the languid beauty of her dark brown eyes, which now flashed back at her. Devon, herself, was wearing a light grey worsted suit through which ran a fine, navy stripe. The over jacket reached past her hips and the skirt stopped above the knee, revealing her shapely legs to perfection, especially where she sat on the bar stool, thighs crossed.
Tenille could hardly take her eyes off her, the pull of her magnetism so strong. She drank deeply from her glass, surveying the crowded room, beginning to enjoy the feeling of sophistication she experienced in this woman's company. They caught up on their news, Devon apologizing for keeping her waiting. In her turn, Tenille filled her in on her lead from Marissa.
“Excellent news. Tenille in the city.”
She could get to see her as much as she liked. She really had been the sweetest daydream. âYou are showing so much aptitude, Tenille. If you could get more practise, on a regular basis ⦠once a week isn't enough, you would soon have the sequences mastered.' She took a deep drag from her cigarette, watching the excited sparkle in the woman's eyes. Her elation was infectious.
âWe need to spend more time on the footwork. Your style is practically in place.' Giving a long stare, she pressed her knee into the side of her leg as she said: âWith extra coaching, everything is possible.'
Electricity sparked though her body, but she just sat there 'til her stomach settled and she could find a voice to rise above the newly awakened feelings. Biting her lip to control the excitement, she uttered: âOh Devon, I will work hard ⦠and practise. I have been at home, but as soon as I get settled, I'm going to join the others, every Tuesday, for an hour.' She smiled shyly into the intense green eyes; their power to draw her, irresistible. âThey said they'd like to have me as part of their group.' Her dark eyes glowed in the dim light.
âThat's good,' Devon encouraged: âBut it's important to dance to the music. Barman.' She called him over and ordered two more of the same.
âDevon, not for me,' she protested.
âWhat's the matter ⦠you driving?' she asked sharply, those observant eyes boring into her.
âNo..o,' she replied, sheepishly. Devon gave her a look as if to say:
“Well then.”
The drinks arrived and Devon made no pretence about Tenille paying, to keep things even. Following her lead was where she wanted her, so she was well prepared with the bills.
âListen, I'll give you my mobile. Let me know when you get fixed up.'
She was already writing on the back of a coaster. âAlso, I've got heaps of practise skirts. Come over to my place and choose a few. It's also important to feel the swirl of the dress around you as you move,' she elaborated. âIt enhances your awareness of the line and style of the dance. I know you'll sense the difference right away.'
âDevon, I can't let you do that,' she found herself protesting, yet again. She was doing too much for her. Guilt felt uncomfortable.
âDon't be a silly Pumpkin. I've got a closet full of clothes, whereas you are just starting out and need some. Anyway, if you work hard and do well, that will more than repay me,' she mollified her. âI've got to split. I promised Pops I'd go over for dinner tonight.'
They walked out to College to catch the northbound train, going together to the eastbound platform at Bloor and Yonge. Devon, alighting at Sherbourne, before the doors finalized their separation shouted out: âRemember, call me.'
On her own, Tenille had a chance to savor these new developments. Her dreams may not just be fabrications. Devon had made her so happy. At last life was looking up in Toronto and she could only see it getting better; becoming her own woman, throwing off the yoke of domination under which she had existed for so long. Liberating and exhilarating. She would put those years behind her, pursue her dream with confidence. To be a dancer. To he a free spirit. Marriage had given her status in other people's eyes, but it was hollow, a reflection only of Jerred's standing in the community. Was that what she wanted out of life? No. A thousand times no. It was a big world out there and she had enough of her ducks in a row, plus ample determination, to go after something much more rewarding. She was ready to meet life on her own terms, not someone else's.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Tenille was rostered on that Saturday when an excited call came through from Marissa. Phyllis let it pass, knowing how important this was.
âTenille. The apartment is still available.'
âOh cool. Excellent. When can I see it?'
âCan you meet me this afternoon? I can take you over and make the introductions. Say ⦠two o'clock at Spadina subway?'
âOh yes, no problem. I'll be there for sure.'
Hardly able to wait for closing time, the others felt her excitement and hoped it would work out. Lunch was at The Magic Pan. Normally she wouldn't eat here, being too much over budget, but today's plans were so topsy-turvy. She had arranged to meet her aunt at Scarborough Town Centre, for a shopping spree, now she would have to phone.
Enough of toying with the tuna crepe and pasta salad; time to take the University line down and around to Spadina. It was only a quarter to the hour, but as soon as the escalator passed over the hump, she saw Marissa at the Bloor exit. She also saw a fire erupt in her eager eyes as they lit on her. She didn't know she had been waiting fifteen minutes already, unable one minute longer to stay in the house.
âHi,' Tenille called out. âYou're early too. I didn't want to run the risk of keeping you waiting.' As she approached, Marissa stepped forward and linked their arms, her face illumined. Tenille revised her thought of
Plain Jane
, seeing her in a cosy brown tweed, full-length coat and jaunty, red tam-o'-shanter with matching scarf and gloves. Stylish brown leather, lace-up boots of fine Italian quality graced her feet. âYou look as pretty as a picture,' she observed, touching the scarf lightly, then stepping back to include the whole effect.
âOh, I have a Nanna who likes to knit. She loves these Canadian winters, allowing her, as they do, to get into all the fancy sweaters.' She laughed happily, warmed by Tenille's compliment. âMrs. Sandrelli's house is just a five minute walk from here, on McPherson.' She gave Tenille's arm a squeeze, as they set off at a pleasant saunter. The fall sky showed graded shades of blue, but the clouds were perfect wisps of gossamer, whipped up by high winds. At ground level the wind was brisk too, but the excitement of the moment kept them oblivious to physical discomfort.
Nervousness began to take over as they approached the house. It was one of the older, large brick houses, built by the affluent at the turn of the century, nestled amongst strategically placed shade trees. At this time of year all they could do was lift naked branches to the cold sky. Before, this area of Toronto had been a quiet, semi-rural suburb; not as it is today, part of the downtown, residential core. Tenille proceeded to express her apprehension.
âDon't worry. Mama's friend is a very nice lady. She'll like you,' Marissa reassured her. Tenille stopped in her tracks, ready for a confrontation, but she pulled her on saying: âI've already told her what a lovely person you are.' This alarmed her even more. How could she live up to such a glowing report?
âYou're so uncertain, Tenille. Everything will work out, you'll see,' she declared positively, stopping before number 226, a well kept house like all the rest. A narrow path, lined by Michaelmas daisy bushes, still giving a handsome show of purple, led to the front steps. She pressed the bell and muted chimes echoed through the building. Almost immediately the door swung open and a short, amply proportioned, smiling woman greeted them.
â
Ciao
Marissa.' The two embraced then Mrs. Sandrelli was introduced. Immediately she instructed, in heavily accented English, for them to follow. Passing through a long hallway, they turned down a short flight of stairs to a locked door. She removed a ring of keys from the pocket of a voluminous black skirt saying: âThere you are,' as she threw open the door. âIt's fully self-contained, except for the laundry.'
Even at first glance, Tenille felt this could be home to her. She recalled other apartments she'd checked out. This one, although small, was palatial in comparison. Despite being the basement, the decor gave an effect of lightness; apricot walls and white ceiling. Pine furniture was also white, with wicker easy chair and coffee table. The kitchen, occupying a corner of the main room, seemed separate in its blue and white color scheme. A half window at ground level outside, was situated above the kitchen sink, inside. Finally the bathroom, located around the corner, had its own window providing ventilation as well as light. Here was nothing fancy, but everything was fresh; ideal for her. Satisfied she'd taken it all in, Tenille swung her head, saying the apartment was perfect.
âCome see the laundry. This you must share.'
Not a problem. Then Mrs. Sandrelli explained. âFor you this will do very well, no? But my last tenant, he bring me lotsa trouble. Come up now, we have espresso and talk.'
She took them to her kitchen. It looked like the Sandrelli's spent their time here.
“Not like Mom's,”
Tenille thought. Doris only went into her kitchen on sufferance. Then everyone had to recognize her martyrdom to their needs. A floral, damask cloth covered the table where they sat. Every shelf carried its burden of nicknackery. Dust collectors, her mother would call them, but she thought they lent a homey atmosphere. Soon the rich, pungent aroma of freshly brewed coffee assailed their nostrils and the older woman placed a large platter of dark fruitcake and cookies before them. She was pleased with Tenille, liking the manner of this prospective tenant. Not only charming, but more important to her, nicely spoken and obviously of good family.
Tenille took a deep breath and launched herself into the part of this interview she didn't like. She had to explain that although she loved the apartment, her aunt had to make an inspection. âI have an over-protective mother,' she apologized.
âYou are talking to a good Italian mama,
Cara
. Marissa here and I know all about it.' She turned and smiled at her young friend, plump cheeks dimpling with warmth. âDaughters are very precious. I have only one son.' The regret in her voice was obvious. âNow.' business-like again: âOne month's rent in advance. That will suffice, so I don't need key money.' This time Marissa smiled broadly. It was all going as she had said. âHere is my phone number.' She took a sheet of paper from the same pocket and handed it over.
âI'll tell my aunt and call you this evening to set up an appointment. Perhaps for tomorrow morning?'
âNot in morning. Sunday is family day. After three? I'll be finished with the clean-up by then.'
The friends left, returning hastily to the subway. The wind had gotten up even more and a leaden sky pressed ominously low upon them. The temperature had dropped several degrees and rain threatened. All the signs of a blustery storm were in the making, so typical of this changeable season; beautiful and innocent one moment, treacherous the next. No matter, Tenille was walking an air, in a state of heady intoxication. At last she would be on her own ⦠only herself to think of.
âMarissa, I can't thank you enough for this.' She was exuberant and effusive. âIf all goes well, I'll be able to join you at practise next week.' The smile was like sunshine, radiant with gratitude.
Marissa was elated too. Tenille's gratitude would bring them even closer. Her present loneliness would come to an end.
âI'm happy for you too, Tenille.' She gave her arm another squeeze, then her soft eyes looked troubled. âYour auntie won't find fault, will she?'
âI don't think so,' Tenille considered thoughtfully. âWhat is there to object to? The place is perfect and Mrs. Sandrelli, a dear.'
âI think you're right.' The dewy eyes brightened.
Carmel listened attentively, when, finally home and the three of them were at dinner, Tenille outlined the new developments. She did her best to paint everything in as good a light as possible, but didn't exaggerate. Roger said he would drive them over. It was with a feeling of relief, this second hurdle safely over, that she telephoned Toronto. Mr. Sandrelli answered and she heard him call out: âSerafina, for you.' He sounded quite a bit older; rather gruff.
Too restless to watch TV, she excused herself, opting to unwind in the Jacuzzi. Lying back and feeling her body relax with the warm massage of the jets, her mind indulged in some happy speculation. If Carmel agreed ⦠next weekend she could be in her own place ⦠no problem. Her eyes flew open. Yes there was. Her mother. She climbed out and reached for her bath wrap.
“Guardian Angel, are you paying attention?”
she wailed:
“Be there for me.”