ever seen you dance?” I was pushing, and I knew it could go one of two ways. I hoped for the better.
“Yeah,” she said as she sweetened her tea. “I had a friend in school, Nora, who talked me into trying out for the part of Sandy in our school’s production of Grease . She somehow convinced me that no one could play it better than I could. I knew the movie by heart I’d watched it so many times, and of course I dreamed of being Sandy, like every other girl who’d ever watched it. I practiced in my room every day for hours when I got home from school, and with each practice my confidence boosted. By the day before auditions, I had no doubt that the judges were going to be floored by me and I’d not only get the lead, but possibly a ticket out of my non-existent life into a fresh new dance filled life.” She laughed and shook her head. I was mesmerized by her and even though I knew the story was going to go downhill from there, I was rooting for her to get the part.
“My room didn’t have the open space I needed to practice one of the numbers fully, so I practiced downstairs in the foyer some days. I wanted to get it just perfect and I lost track of time on that particular day.” She paused and filled up the teapot with water. She returned it to the stove and turned on the burner. “I didn’t hear my parents walk in, but from the looks on their faces when they cut the music, I guessed they’d seen enough.” She took a deep breath and a sip of her tea.
“My mom started yelling about the scuffs I’d made on the floor and my dad said I was too fat to be dancing and dressing like a whore. ‘Don’t even think about embarrassing us by trying out for this ridiculous thing!’ my dad yelled. Then my mom chimed in, ‘You’re almost eighteen years old, it’s time you started thinking about your future and stopped with this unrealistic fantasy of yours!’ I was crushed. I felt like someone had just told me I had to stop breathing, stop dreaming, stop hoping and believing.” She quickly wiped a tear that she’d somehow let escape her eye. She glanced at me, probably hoping I hadn’t noticed, but I hadn’t taken my teary eyes off her. She seemed shocked at first, that I was emotional over her story, but then softness filled her eyes and she let one go—silently it fell.
“Needless to say, I didn’t try out. Pamela Johnston got the part. She was skinny and beautiful, making the perfect Sandy. She couldn’t dance or sing worth a shit, but I realized it didn’t matter, and that my parents were right. If I would’ve tried out, I would’ve been an embarrassment. It wasn’t about talent and hard work with rich snobby people, it was about how you looked, dressed, and flaunted your money. I didn’t want that kind of life anymore, so as soon as I graduated, I left.”
“ Do you still think they were right?” I was semi-panicking.
“I’m still dealing with it,” she said. My heart sank. I was in full panic mode.
“Do you put me in that category?” I was scared to ask, but I had to.
“What?” She looked confused for a moment, but as she studied my face , she read my fear. “Oh my god, Sean, no, not at all.” She was beside me again, on her stool, as she took my face in her soft little hands. “I know that everyone with money doesn’t have a heart of stone, just as I know not every stripper is a whore. I was nervous about you at first, when I saw your car and realized you were very well-off, but I decided to give you a chance, just as you gave me one when you learned of my job. I’d never put you in that category. You’re the opposite of them. You’ve proven that to me already.” She kissed me sweetly and I sighed in relief.
“I want to delve into your story so badly. I want to make you see all that was wrong about what your parents put you through and all that was right about what you did, but I can’t. I’m sure you’ve heard it all in therapy and hope you’re continuing to
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