Raquel's Abel (25 page)

A few minutes later, Maria Elena pushed Grandmother into the room.

“This is very good. You can watching my
novela
with us.”

Grandmother’s old eyes moved dryly in their sockets. “Why are you so down, dear?” She waved her crinkled hand at me.

I placed my palm in hers and felt her cool skin.

“What has you so upset?”

Maria Elena was holding the remote control in her hand waiting for our conversation to end. “Yes, Señorita, you looking very sad.”

I looked up at the ceiling for solace, but then I saw a new crack. I looked away quickly. “It’s the house.”

“Don’t worry about the house,” my grandmother said as she squeezed my hand.

“Yes, Señorita, I cleaning when I get time.” Maria Elena’s fingers were poised to turn the television on.

“It’s worse than that.”

“My sister is right, Raquel, we’ll help you clean this place up.”

I smiled at their offer to help me. “There are so many bills to pay on the house, and I can’t possibly pay them all.”

Grandmother pulled her hand away then swatted at the air. “Money? You don’t need to worry about things like that.”

Maria Elena’s eyes had gotten as round as golf balls.

“I need a very large amount of money or we’ll lose the house.”

“Pshaw, I was smart enough to hang onto quite a bit of the money and jewels I had in Russia.”

I had to take a deep breath to keep from getting angry at my grandmother.

“Money and jewels,” Maria Elena repeated.

“I wish I could stay and watch the soap opera with you two, but I’ve got things to do.” I ran out of the room quickly. If I listened to her, I’d start to dream of nonexistent fortunes.

When I’d gone to the doctor about my skin infections, he’d given me pills and suggested I wear a full-body girdle. I’d gone out and bought one and I was now trying to put myself and all my extra skin inside it. I looked great, but I felt like a mummy under my clothes.

I slipped a shimmery silver dress over my head and zipped it up. The mirror didn’t reflect the fear welling up inside me. Tonight Owen and I were going to dance against some of the real greats in the world of ballroom dance. To win tonight, every turn would have to be perfect, every promenade graceful, and most of all, we had to look like we were in control of the dance floor and the crowd.

As usual Owen picked me up in his truck, talking as if we’d already won the competition. I danced well, but there was no substitute for rehearsing every day, and that was something I couldn’t do.

“Don’t worry, we’ll knock ’em dead tonight.” His truck made a sick sound, echoing the way I felt. I was always willing to drive, but he insisted on picking me up every time.

“You know, there are some very good dancers competing tonight.”

“I was thinking about that, but I think it’s all in the teamwork.” He gently rapped my shoulder with his knuckles. “And you know, we are an awesome team.”

I clutched my purse tightly. “I really need to be devoting more time to writing. I still haven’t even come up with the subject for my next biography.”

He shook his head and stared straight at the road. “We’re doing great, so far. You’ll just have to schedule better so we can practice more.”

“I’m not sure if…”

Owen started to bang on the steering wheel. “And, you know, the next competition will be in Orlando, Florida.”

“It is?”

“Of course. We’re entering the big time, girl.”

This was just getting to be too much. I’d have to talk to him after the competition. If we won, it would break his heart and I’d know it was all my fault.

Lorraine was sitting in the front and waved at Owen when we walked in. He simply gave her a grin as we walked by.

“You really should talk to her,” I said as I took a seat backstage.

Owen poopooed me as he went over and stood in front of a full-length mirror. “Do you like the way these pants look in the back?”

As usual, Owen looked great from his head to his toes. “You look fine.”

“You are always so sweet.” He sat down on the bench beside me. “It’s having somebody that thinks you’re great that makes you a good dancer.” He winked at me.

“No, Owen, you’re a GREAT dancer.”

“Not everybody thinks that.” He crossed his legs and wound his foot around in circles.

“Yes, everybody thinks that.” I knew he was thinking back to the days when he was just learning ballroom and he wasn’t very popular. “Lorraine thinks so.”

A buzzer sounded.

“Saved by the bell. I am certainly ready to end this ridiculous conversation.” He popped up then bent over and offered me his hand. “Come on, princess, the best ballroom dancer this side of the Mississippi. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

I opened my mouth to reply.

“No more of your silliness, either.” He took my hand and led me to the dance floor.

We lit into a slow Salsa. I fully believed the reason Owen was such a good choreographer was that he didn’t just use influences from other ballroom couples. He went out to nightclubs where Cubans and Puerto Ricans danced Salsa. Because of that he brought a real cultural flair to the routines. The music slowed, almost halting. We kept the rhythm until the music sounded loudly and the pace quickened. We kept our steps small and close under us just as Owen had seen the Latins do, then we erupted into twirls, one after the other, meeting perfectly after each turn. With a shout in Spanish, the music stopped and right on the note, we ended up with our arms stretched to the ceiling.

The judges gave us our numerical scores, which were only a point above the last couple. The next pair of dancers, though, were the ones everyone expected to win.

I looked at Owen, who sat beside me ignoring Lorraine’s glances.

I couldn’t bear to see Owen’s face if this next couple beat us, and I knew they would.

They entered in flame orange outfits. Her skirt was short in front and trailed down in the back. His collar was high in the back as if he wore part of a vampire costume.

They had chosen a cha-cha-cha that had a nice constant beat. I’d never seen two dancers be able to accomplish so many complex moves while dancing so close together.

I stared out at them, refusing to look back at Owen. There was no way we’d win this competition. Their steps were too fluid, too quick, too synchronized. They were certainly putting many more hours into rehearsing and choreographing than I’d ever be able to.

The pace of the music slowed, and we waited for their finale, knowing it would be great.

Her foot slipped out from under her. Since they were dancing so close together, both of them came crashing down like discarded rag dolls on the dance floor.

I looked at Owen. He face had filled with horror at what had happened, but then a smile crept across his freckles. “We did it,” he mouthed.

This was ridiculous, I thought as I watched the couple pick themselves off the floor.

“We’re going to the next competition,” he whispered in my ear.

I was still watching to see if either of the dancers were injured, but they had only suffered a blow to their pride.

“Orlando, here we come.”

“No, Owen, no.”

“You’re just intimidated.”

“You saw how they danced, Owen. That couple has what it takes. We would be able to dance that well if I had all the time in the world to practice, but I don’t.”

His mouth drew up all wrinkly like a bulldog’s face.

“You know it’s true. And don’t forget that I have to have that surgery and I’ll be out of commission for a long time with that.”

“You’re abandoning me.”

“No, that’s not true at all.” Loyalty meant so much to him.

Owen got up and walked toward the front door.

I followed behind him trying to plead my case. “I’m not deserting you. I’ll be at every competition cheering you on.”

He opened the front door and didn’t hold it for me.

“You’re acting like a child,” I called after him.

He spun around. “If I’m acting like a child, then you’re acting like a quitter.”

“Not a quitter, Owen. Consider dancing with Lorraine.” It was the best thing for him. Why couldn’t he see that?

He headed toward the driver’s side of the truck.

I tried to open the passenger side door, but it was so rusty it refused to move more than a few inches. “Come on, Owen.”

He sauntered over and opened it for me.

I put my hand on his arm. “Don’t be like this.”

He hung his head. “You have your books.”

That was true. Owen didn’t like being a waiter at someone else’s restaurant. He wanted to work for himself as much as he wanted to be an award-winning ballroom dancer. I opened my mouth to argue with him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He waited for me to get into the truck then closed the old door making sure my gown wasn’t caught.

He drove me to my house in silence. He was so much like Regina—mistreated in childhood and still acting it out in adulthood.

Chapter Fifteen

As the months slipped by, I was losing even more weight. I felt much better and could walk long distances without getting winded. Most enjoyable was that I could breathe much more easily, now that those extra pounds weren’t crushing my chest. There was a down side, though. I needed to wear the full body girdle all the time. It looked like I had enough skin for three people on my frame.

Selling the house was the solution. That would give me plenty of money to have the surgery. Still, parting with the house didn’t seem like something my father and grandfather would have approved of, although they would have wanted what was best for me.

I washed my breakfast dishes and was busy wiping off the island when Abel appeared in front of me. Today he wore an overcoat. “Good morning.” He took off his cap and bowed ceremoniously.

Joy filled me and I must have blushed.

“You are even more radiant today than on other days,” he said in his gentlemanly voice.

That feeling of being truly cared for seeped into me.