Piano notes—slow and sad.
I begin my incredibly drawn-out crawl to center stage, using only my arms.
The male voice sings, “Turn around …”
Bonnie Tyler answers, “Every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you’re never coming round.”
At this point Tiffany runs onto the stage and leaps over me like a gazelle or some other animal that is beautifully nimble. As the two voices continue to exchange verses, Tiffany does her thing: running, jumping, tumbling, spinning, sliding—modern dance.
When the drums kick in, I stand and make a huge circle with my arms so people will know that I am the sun and I have risen. Tiffany’s movements also become more fervent. When Bonnie Tyler builds up to the chorus, singing, “Together we can take it to the end of the line; your love is like a shadow on me all of the time,” we go into the first lift. “I don’t know what to do and I’m always in the dark.” I have Tiffany up over my head; I am steady as a rock; I am performing flawlessly. “We’re living in a powder keg and giving off sparks.” I begin to rotate Tiffany as she lifts her legs out into a split and Bonnie Tyler sings, “I really need you tonight! Forever’s gonna start tonight! Forever’s gonna start tonight.” We make a 360-degree rotation, and when Bonnie Tyler sings, “Once upon a time I was falling in love, but now I’m only falling apart,” Tiffany rolls forward down into my arms and I lower her to the floor as if she were dead—and I, as the sun, mourn her. “Nothing I can say, a total eclipse of the heart.”
When the music builds again, she explodes upward and begins to fly all around the stage so beautifully.
As the song continues, I again make huge, slow circles with my arms, representing the sun as best I can. I know the routine so well, I can think about other things while I am performing, so I begin to think that I am actually nailing this performance pretty easily and it is a shame my family and friends are not here to see me dancing so excellently. Even though we will most likely not win the audience’s loudest applause—especially after Chelsea Chen obviously brought every single one of her family members to the performance—I begin to think we will win anyway. Tiffany is really good, and as she flies by me so many times, I begin to admire her in a way I had not previously. She has kicked her game up a notch for the competition and is now showing a part of herself I had not previously seen. If she was crying with her body for the last month or so, whenever we practiced in her studio, she is weeping uncontrollably with her body tonight, and you would have to be a stone not to feel what she is offering the audience.
But then Bonnie Tyler is singing, “Together we can make it to the end of the line,” which means it is time for the second lift—the hardest one—so I lower myself into a squatting position and place the backs of my hands on my shoulders. As the song builds, Tiffany stands on my palms, and when Bonnie Tyler sings, “I really need you tonight,” Tiffany bends her knees, so I engage my leg muscles and push upward as fast as I can, extending my arms, elevating my palms. Tiffany shoots high up into the air, does a full flip, falls into my arms, and as the chorus dies down, we gaze into each other’s eyes. “Once upon a time I was falling in love, but now I’m only falling apart. Nothing I can do, a total eclipse of the heart.” She falls from my arms, as if dead, and I—being the sun—set, which means I lie back on the floor and use only my arms to slowly push myself backward and out of the spotlight, which takes almost a full minute.
The music fades.
Silence.
For a second I worry that no one will clap.
But then the house explodes with applause.
When Tiffany stands, I do too. Just like we practiced so many times, I hold Tiffany’s hand and take a bow, at which time the applause thickens and the audience stands.
I’m so happy, but at the same time I am sad because none of my family and friends came to support me—but then I hear the loudest Eagles chant I have ever heard in my entire life. “E!-A!-G!-L!-E!-S! EAGLES!” I look up toward the back rows, and not only do I spot Jake and Caitlin and Mom, but also Scott and the fat men and Cliff and the entire Asian Invasion. They are all wearing Eagles jerseys, and I start to laugh when they begin to chant, “Baskett! Baskett! Baskett! Baskett!”
In the front row, Ronnie is smiling at me proudly. He gives me the thumbs-up when we make eye contact. Veronica is also smiling, and so is little Emily, but Mrs. Webster is crying and smiling at the same time, which is when I realize that she thinks our dance was really beautiful—enough to make her cry.
Tiffany and I run offstage, and the high school girls congratulate us with their gaping eyes and their smiles and their chatter. “Oh, my God. That was so amazing!” they all say. It is easy to see that every one of them admires Tiffany because Tiffany is an excellent dancer and a talented choreographer.
Finally Tiffany faces me and says, “You were perfect!”
“No, you were perfect!” I say. “Do you think we won?”
She smiles and looks down at her feet.
“What?” I say.
“Pat, I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
“There’s no gold trophy.”
“What?”
“There are no winners at Dance Away Depression. It’s just an exhibition. I made up the part about the wreath just to motivate you.”
“Oh.”
“And it worked, because you were beautiful out there onstage! Thank you, and I will be your liaison,” Tiffany says just before she kisses me on the lips and hugs me for a very long time. Her kiss tastes salty from the dancing, and it is strange to have Tiffany hugging me so passionately in front of so many teenage girls in tights—especially because I am shirtless and my torso is freshly shaved—and also I do not like to be touched by anyone except Nikki.