Dancing Hours Read online

  Andy

  1

  The first thought that crossed my mind when I saw the man on the motorcycle riding toward me was I need to know him. My heart pounded and I felt a lump in my diaphragm. He started moving in slow motion. I had never felt that moment before. It was something about his silhouette, the shape of his body, the fit of his clothes. There was a confidence about him – this almost oddly clean cut guy. His hat was on backwards, underneath was a tidy trim of sandy hair, aviator sunglasses and a plain red shirt that graced the V frame of his broad shoulders and well-defined chest. I could only imagine the contours of his torso; but I could clearly register his strong muscular thighs wrapped in faded denim jeans.

  He must have noticed my attention because his head turned toward me as he rode past and for a moment I felt his eyes on mine even behind the glasses. I felt suddenly warmer standing on the sidewalk in the sun with my books in hand. I’d been struck by lightning.

  I continued watching him down the street, but I wasn’t the only one. Every person outside that day stopped to stare and a few people had come out the various shops, startled by the unfamiliar loud noise. As he rode off, I realized I was holding my breath. My best friend Kate was there, as usual, to pull me back to reality. “Who was that?” she nearly screamed in her thick southern drawl.

  I stammered, embarrassed at being interrupted in what felt like such a private moment. “I don’t know.” I felt frozen in place.

  “Well, I’m gonna find out.” Kate had her cellphone out and whipped out a text with her long, smooth brown fingers before I could finish processing what was going on. Within moments, teenage girls all over our town would become the ultimate spy network pooling information until we had an answer. It took less than five minutes. He was Mrs. Merchant’s grandson or great-grandson here for the summer while his parents were visiting too. Lily Swanson’s uncle had been out there fixing Mrs. Merchant’s oven last week and heard the news.

  Mrs. Merchant had been around for ages. My parents referred to her as ‘Old Lady Merchant’ but that seemed disrespectful to me. She was a roundish woman with reddish brown hair that she pulled back into a bun every day. She used to be the librarian, but retired before I was born. She lived alone just outside of town. I’d taken a few meals to her with the local elderly meal program which was as much about providing senior with company as bringing them a hot meal. She seemed lonely and liked to reminisce about when things moved slower, had less lights and beeping noises. I’d never met or even heard of any family, so hot motorcycle-riding grandson was news to me. Good news.

  My mind lingered on plausible excuses to visit her while Kate continued her fact-finding mission. I couldn’t come up with anything. It was just as well, I reasoned. This was my last summer in Palmetto, a town not much bigger than the tree it was named after. In the fall I’d be off to college. Remembering that set my mind in a completely different direction. I was lost in my daydream when I noticed my Nan come out of the drugstore across the street. She looked like a human peacock with her proud, colorful shuffle… dressed in lavender pants, a cream polyester vest and a slightly darker purple blouse. She had on a white hat complete with purple ribbon around it and walked with a bedazzled cane to match her outfit. Nan may not be the richest woman in town, but she dressed to impress all the other little old ladies.

  I said goodbye to Kate and jogged into the street falling into step and folding my arm into Nan’s with a little extra support. She never lost her half smile and didn’t bother to acknowledge me. We were natural like this. It was for the fact of my helping her alone that I noticed the plain gray sedan rolling through town also. The male driver paused dutifully as we made it to the curb and Nan waved her cane to say thanks. He nodded back. I really noticed the cane for the first time and wondered when she adopted that particular fashion accessory.

  I turned to watch the car continue on out of curiosity and reached for my phone again when Nan poked me. “Now don’t go ruinin’ a nice day with that pesky device” she snapped emphasizing the e in device as if it were two words. Abashed, I put it back in my pocket.

  “How ya doin’ Ms. Nessa?” asked a woman at the corner in a sing-songy voice as we approached. “You’re looking sharp today.”

  “Hey Betty. Why thank you! I’m better than I should be. How’s your leg?” Nan responded.

  The two ladies continued talking while I let my mind drift off to college again. Nan was a talker. She was my grandmother, but she acted like everyone else in town’s too. She talked to everyone about everything and could turn a discussion about the weather into a 45 minute affair. Everybody in town knew and loved my Nan. By extension, that meant everyone knew who I was too. So naturally I craved the anonymity of a big city. My parents weren’t happy when I first told them I was going to Los Angeles for college. It was on the other side of the county, after all.

  When she finished her chat, I walked Nan to her car and we talked about when she’d be over for dinner. She always came over for dinner. My mom was her only child and after grandpa passed away, we were all Nan had for family. But she made family out of everyone she knew. We had more than a few Thanksgiving dinners with a dozen people that Nan invited without bothering to ask my mom. It didn’t matter much anyway since my mom never did the cooking. We always ordered a package from some local restaurant in advance and lucky for us they always had extra food on hand when we needed it.

  When Nan drove off, I considered whether I wanted to go hiking or over to the coffee shop to sit and read one of the books I’d just bought. It wasn’t an easy decision. Getting lost in a book was easy, but getting lost in nature was more relaxing. I’d have to walk home to get my Jeep and drive to a good hiking spot, so my inertia decided for me.

  I turned to walk down the sidewalk toward the coffee shop when I saw another unfamiliar car headed down the street. There was a woman driving with gigantic sunglasses on her face. Her windows were tinted, so it was hard to see inside the car very well, but her car had California license plates and she didn’t stop at the sign a block past me.

  When I got there, the coffee shop was buzzing about the newcomers. It was a lot of excitement for my little town. I tried to tune them out and read my book, but found myself reading and re-reading the sentences without fully comprehending them. After an hour of trying, I decided to walk home and start picking out stuff to take to school with me.

  2

  The next day was my day to work at the Laundromat. I’d been doing it ever since I was in middle school. One afternoon, I went there with my mother when our dryer was broken and I’d seen the owner hovering inside the bottom of a dryer pulling out enormous balls of lint. Never one to let curiosity go unsatisfied, I asked him what he was doing. He explained that the commercial dryers needed a regular cleaning under there or the dryer wouldn’t work very well or maybe would start a fire. One “Can I try?” later and I had a job – a dollar a dryer and I could keep whatever change I found. My mother gave me a talk about taking on responsibility and what a commitment I was making. The way she talked, you’d have thought I was asking for a new puppy.

  At first the money didn’t seem like much, but people lost an unbelievable amount of money in the Laundromat. After a few months, I made a sign to put up. It said “Don’t Lose Your Money Honey. Check your pockets before washing!” I also started a lost and found for all the other random things I found… nice pens, some jewelry, hair barrettes, that sort of thing. This prompted another sign and some regular work hours “Lost Something? Come see Andy. Saturdays 9 – 10:30” These signs had been up for years. No one had started checking their pockets it seemed, but a few people came looking for other things. The rest sat in a box under the low counter in the corner. As far as I know, no one ever took anything out of
there while I wasn’t around.

  That Saturday was like most others. People seem to have a laundry day, so I’d see the same 10 or 15 people in there while I worked. I knew most of them, but today I saw a cute little girl with her young father that I hadn’t seen before. She was 4 or 5 with the kind of blonde hair most women pay for and clear blue eyes. The dad was pretty tall with broad shoulders and darker hair. He had a much trendier haircut than the local male species and he didn’t look much older than me. The little girl babbled and bubbled her way around the shop, hardly able to sit still while her dad loaded clothes into the washers. I thought it was sweet that he was letting his wife sleep in. He looked a little disheveled, like he’d forgotten to shave in a couple of days. I kept an eye on him to make sure he didn’t throw any red shirts in with the whites. After a while they sat together and he watched the little TV while she stared at the claw-drop stuffed animal machine in the corner. She was an incessant chatterbox, like most girls her age, and asking her father a lot of questions. She asked him to read off the signs and one by one I heard him tell her about the hours of the store, the rules about not sitting on the washers and all that, and then my two signs. After he said “Lost Something? Come see Andy. Saturdays 9 to 10 thirty” She asked “Is today Saturday?”

  “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.

  Their 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 anything 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 not the motorcycle 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 babysit if he ever needed 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 people 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 - excitement at meeting someone 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 liked the idea of semi-homemade food.

  There in the produce section was Mrs. Merchant looking completely out of place. She’d had groceries delivered to her home for as long as I could remember and I couldn’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 there was room for them – and Noah, her other grandson. Did I meet him? He’s about my age, she said, but he had a whole lot more growing 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 since she’d seen her family.

  The 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 what was going on in town recently and her daughter who was 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 about 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 be insulted. She made no secret of her true pa
ssion 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 my heart fluttered a little bit.

  Later 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 not 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 the 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.