“Does the sun wear a shirt?”
The sun does not wear yellow tights either, but I do not say so.
In anticipation of our big performance, I’m running a little faster with Tiffany every day. We push ourselves, and when we get to the park, we sprint the last mile to her house and get really sweaty. I always beat Tiffany, because I am a man, yes, but also because I am an excellent runner.
Two days before the competition, just before we are about to perform the routine for the twenty-fifth time that day—twenty-five being Tiffany’s favorite number—she says, “We need to do this flawlessly.”
So I try my best, and as I watch bits of our routine in the mirrors that surround us, I think, We really are dancing flawlessly! I am so excited when we finish, because I know we will win—especially since we have improved ourselves so much with sacrifice and hard training. This mini-movie will have a happy ending for sure!
But something about Tiffany’s demeanor is off as we take our water break. She is not yelling at me, nor is she using the f-word, so I ask, “What’s wrong?”
“How many people did you recruit to come to the competition?”
“I asked everyone I know.”
“Veronica tells me your family is mad at you for abandoning the Eagles.”
“Not my mom.”
“I’m worried that if we don’t get enough fans there to cheer for us, the judges might be swayed by another dancer’s larger fan base. We might not win, and then I would not be able to act as your liaison, Pat.”
“Maybe if you are not doing anything tomorrow night, you might want to bring your wife and children to my dance recital,” I tell Cliff. “We’ve really got a good routine, and I think we can win if only we have enough audience support, and I don’t think that my father or brother will be likely to show up, so—”
“After tomorrow night, you’ll be done with these long rehearsals?”
“Yeah.”
“So you will be able to go to the Redskins game on—”
“Hmmmmmm.”
“Just tell me this, if I go to the dance recital, will you go to the Eagles game with us on Sunday? The Asian Invasion misses you, and truthfully, we sort of feel like you’ve cursed the Eagles by abandoning them mid-season. Poor Baskett has only caught two balls in the last three games and had zero catches last week. And the Birds have lost three straight. We miss you down at the Linc, Pat.”
“I can’t talk about that subject until my dance recital is over tomorrow night. I can only say that I need to recruit as many people as possible to cheer for Tiffany and me so the judges will be swayed. Let me just say that winning is really important, and Tiffany says that crowd reaction can sway the judges.”
“If I come, will you talk to me about that-thing-you-are-not-allowed-to-talk-about after your performance?”
“Cliff, I can’t talk about that until after the performance.”
“Well then, neither can I tell you whether I will be at your performance,” Cliff says.
At first I think he is bluffing, but he doesn’t bring up the subject again, and by the end of our therapy session I feel as though I have blown my shot at getting Cliff to bring his wife to my recital, which makes me feel very depressed.
Hello, you’ve reached Jake and Caitlin’s machine. Please leave a message after the beep. Beep.
“Jake. Sorry to call so late, but I just got done rehearsing. I know that you are mad at me because you think I jinxed those-people-who-make-me-hum-at-the-present-moment, but if you bring Caitlin to my dance recital, there’s a chance I might be able to do that thing we used to do on Sundays, especially if you cheer for Tiffany and me very loudly. We need people to cheer for us, because the judges are sometimes swayed by the audience. It’s really important that we win this competition. So as your brother, I’m asking you to please bring your wife to the Plaza—”
Beep.
I hang up and redial the number.
Hello, you’ve reached Jake and Caitlin’s machine. Please leave a message after the beep. Beep.
“That’s the Plaza Hotel at—”
“Hello? Is everything okay?”
It’s Caitlin’s voice, which makes me nervous, so I hang up, fully realizing I have blown my shot at getting Jake to come to my dance recital.
“Pat, you know I’ll be there. And I’ll cheer so loudly for you, but winning isn’t everything,” my mom says. “It’s the fact that you were able to learn to dance in only a few weeks that is impressive.”
“Just ask Dad, okay?”
“I will. But I don’t want you to get your hopes up. A dance recital is not something he would have attended even if the Eagles won the last three games.”
Like a Shadow on Me All of the Time
Veronica drops us off in front of the Plaza Hotel on Saturday, saying, “Break a leg,” just before she pulls away. I follow Tiffany into the lobby, where four towers of water shoot out of a large fountain—at least ten feet up in the air. Real fish swim around in the pool of water, and signs read do not throw coins into the fountain. Tiffany has been here before. She walks right past the information desk and leads me through a maze of hallways with gold wallpaper and swanky-looking light fixtures that are all large bronze fish with lightbulbs in their mouths. Finally, we find the hall where the dance recital will take place.
Red curtains frame a large stage. A huge banner hangs high above the dance floor; it reads dance away depression. We try to register at a desk, and it becomes obvious that we are the first contestants to show up, because the fat woman who is in charge of registration says, “Registration is not for another hour.”