CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It isn’t easy for Dane to tell me the story. He pulls out a folded photo, worn at the edges, of two young teenagers in a park or backyard, and places it on the table. I take it in my hand and notice the freedom of the girl with a wide pink smile and dark, tight curls that seem to bounce as she runs across the grass like dandelion dust. The other teenager is a rambunctious kid with long, light-brown hair like Dane’s, making a face at the camera. I would recognize his heart-shaped face and bright blue eyes anywhere.
Dane looks at me with a raw potency and tells me he hasn’t talked to his mother since shortly after that day in the park, when a girl who was his best friend and neighbor went missing.
He clears his throat and nods as though he is collecting strength from deep within. “So you see”—he looks up and takes my hand—“Rachel was a friend. A true friend, with the most generous spirit. Even though our mothers were addicts, she never let it get her down. It was her zest for life that kept me going. She’d find fun in a garbage dump, encouraging me to make the most of each day, and she became like a sister to me. My mom used to send me to get her drugs. She even had me believing it was medicine. When I realized it was recreational drugs, I thought it was my job to heal her.” Dane smirks with pain in his eyes, and I squeeze his hand in mine. “So one day I came back with produce to make her a meal instead of bringing her the drugs. Anna, my mom, went ballistic. Rachel was coming over to visit, and Anna was in the worst state I’d seen her. She was screaming, totally out of control. I will spare you the details.”
“It’s okay, whatever you are comfortable sharing, I want to know, Dane. I’m here.” My eyes are glued to him as he looks straight ahead with a tic in his jaw.
“Rachel was used to that kind of flip-out more than I was. She’d told me stories about her mom freaking out, and my mom was more docile when she was drugged up. It was like she wasn’t there. But this was unlike anything I had dealt with.” He coughs, and I inhale a long, anchoring breath. “Rachel knew Anna needed a hit to calm her down. She couldn’t go off cold turkey. We argued about it.” Dane’s voice tightens, and his breath becomes jagged. “I didn’t want Rachel to go, and Rachel said she should. Anna needed the drugs, and Rachel knew a way to find the money and get them. Anna needed to come down from her spell, and later we would find another way to get our moms unhooked. I didn’t agree, though. I guess I was angry at Rachel for leaving.”
I rub my hand on his back in a circle, and he looks at me with remorse. “I told Rachel I never wanted to see her again.”
“It’s not your fault, Dane. You were a child.” I try my best to comfort him.
“Rachel never came back.” He swallows hard. “She went missing. I looked for her for years. She was never located, and the police didn’t take her case seriously, even though Rachel’s mother protested along with the rest of the community. Anna went back to drugs. She took no responsibility for what happened to Rachel. I hated her for it.
“So you stopped speaking to her.” It all sinks in.
“Pretty much. I moved out as soon as I could.” He leans back in his seat with a sigh and crosses one leg over the other.
“I’m so sorry, Dane. That must have been awful. I can’t even imagine.” I place my hand on his thigh as he sucks in a hard breath, keeping it together.
“Well, I’m stronger for it.” His lips curl up at the corner, but his eyes remain heated.
“And you haven’t spoken to your mother since. Have you told anyone else?” I look at him with compassion.
“Never.”
It’s such a strong word. Dane’s jaw is tightly knit and his eyes are glossy. As I struggle to even comprehend his story, never mind know the right thing to say, the pressure behind my own eyes builds. I slide the photo back to him, and he tucks it in its slot in his chain wallet.
“Thank you, Dane, for trusting me, for opening up. I’m sorry that happened to you. You were so young, and you deserved better.”
“After Rachel disappeared, there were days I lost my will to live. I felt so guilty. Torn. I poured all of my passion into the kitchen till that night you faced your fears and danced your heart out. It inspired me. Who knows, maybe I need you to come back to Manhattan so you can help me to face my fears, or just be my shoulder.” Dane looks a little lighter after telling me the story of his past.
“Mom is going to be so disappointed if I give up on academics.”
“You mean her life.” Dane cocks a brow.
His few words are the ones I need to hear. Do I want to live someone else’s life or my own? Messy or not, I need to make my own mistakes, because I’m the one who will have to live with them. Dane told me the truth about Rachel and his fears. He is finally opening up to me. I will miss Manhattan intensely if I don’t return. And I want to be with Dane. I want the chance to spend more time with him and get to know him fully.
“Okay, I’ll give Manhattan another shot.” The corners of my lips creep upward.
“Really?” The look on Dane’s face is priceless as he moves out of his chair toward me, and I stand up to meet his embrace.
“Yes, but we’re going to have to speed on that bike if I’m going to make it back in time for rehearsal. How fast can it go?”
“Very.” He grins.
***
The last session of the workshop is bittersweet. The process comes together when each small section is linked to the greater whole of the dance, like the knitted parts of a sweater. The group joins together to execute the repertory section of Kent Morgan’s masterpiece. Not one person is singled out or left out, everyone is equally involved, and when the final notes of the dance ring through, we are filled with the sense of elation that exertion leaves behind. And there’s the sweet song of sadness that continues in your soul where the dance once lived: you know it will never be repeated the same way.
We thank each other and the accompaniment, but especially Kent Morgan. The corner of his lip quirks as he places his hands together in prayer position against the center of his chest and leaves us with a few of his inspiring words.
“This week was for you. May you take home what you’ve learned but always remember that when you are true to yourself and true to the movement, you give a special gift to the world.”
Everyone applauds, and the room breaks into wide smiles and teary eyes, each one of us knowing we have been touched by working with a great mentor, and by the power of dance that quietly lives on inside us.
Kent departs with a commanding wave and a nod of his head. No smile.
We are left with so much more.
After a stretch and wind-down, Lexi and I pack our things in our shared room and say our goodbyes. She takes off with Daniela in her parents’ BMW, and I wait on the steps for Dane, breathing past the flutters taking over my heart.
