Chapter 6
749 Words
Chapter 6Simon
Full disclosure: I had never hosted a dinner at my own home for more than one person at a time. And in those situations, hosting a dinner most often meant ordering takeout for a meal to precede or follow f*****g. On occasion, the same methodology was employed for a working dinner, when I had a writing job that required input from another person.
I’ve always written fiction, but for quite a while I earned some money writing for entertainment media. Everything from reviews to columns to profiles. Interviews were the best for making connections; I don’t know if my screenplay would’ve sold had I not been acquainted with so many people in the movie industry.
Anyway, what I meant to say was that Evan’s casual host mode seemed like complete hospitality mastery to me. He’d prepared four different things for people to eat, all Christmassy and delicious. A turkey casserole with mushrooms, peas, and onions; a fancy potato thing; roasted carrots with goat cheese and cranberries; and the creamy broccoli soup I had managed to keep from scorching. He was also cool with letting his friends fix their own plates. Not a control freak, like I would’ve tried to be, giving everyone equal portions of whatever and fussing about how the plate looked. The ballet dancers (Gala and Misha) surprised me by heaping their plates with everything. Casimir, an English teacher, noticed me noticing a small serving. “Potatoes au gratin are among my favorite things in the world, and these look gorgeous, but I’m trying to watch my weight. I swear that’s the only reason my whole plate isn’t potatoes.”
“I will watch my weight tomorrow,” I told him. “Tonight, I’m eating potatoes. How did the four of you meet?”
“I met Evan at the bookstore,” Casimir said. “And we hit it off, so I invited him for coffee at home with me and Misha, and they hit it off.”
“Then we invited him to a showcase at the dance studio,” Misha put in, “and he met Gala, and they liked each other too.”
“I think everybody likes Evan,” I said. “He’s great with people at the store.”
Evan swallowed some wine. “Well, I do work in HR in real life.”
I made an enlightened face. “Oh wow, that’s right!” All the others laughed. “So, ballet dancers. I’m not devoid of rhythm, but I have no idea how that works in real life. I’d love to write about a dancer. Can I pick your brains?”
They both nodded, smiling. Then Gala cautioned, “I’m not a professional dancer. I work in HR too, that’s one of the things Evan and I clicked with. Ballet is my workout, my sport, my art.”
Misha said, “Gala has been dancing since she was a child, but she first learned pointe a few years ago.”
“No way!” I leaned forward, excited. “That’s something you can do as an adult?”
“Not many people try it,” she said. “Adults understand it’s going to ruin your feet and most aren’t willing to do that. But I always just really wanted to dance on pointe like a real ballerina, and it wasn’t like I needed my feet for something else.”
Evan stifled a laugh. Casimir was laughing too, but he said, “The first time I saw Misha dance, I saw Gala too. She was the soloist in a group doing the Waltz of the Flowers from the Nutcracker.”
I would have bet that Gala was around forty-five years old. “I am so impressed,” I said sincerely. “Is there video?”
“Oh, of course,” she said, blushing a little. “My BFF came with me to the showcase and recorded it for me, and then he made me put it on Facebook.”
“Can I friend you?” I gave her my very best hopeful puppy face. “Honestly, there are things I’m proud of, but only one of them is something people can watch, and I’m not in it, and I’m so, like, envious and thrilled right now.”
“You’re very sweet,” she told me, then looked at Evan. “Is he for real?”
“He is,” Evan said. “I’m gonna try to keep him.”
- Writer
