Lauren Takes Leave Gerstenblatt, Julie (classic literature list txt) 📖

I feel bad about that; Lenny keeps getting caught in mylife’s dramas. I’ll have to send him an e-mail to apologize.

“Do not send him an e-mail to apologize,” Kat says,reading my mind. “He’s cool; I talked to him a bit outside before he left. ButI doubt he’ll be hanging with us anytime soon. Which is probably a good thing,no offense.”

Jodi takes her position on our side of the dance floor,one foot behind the other, left hip facing her partner, Rudy. Her head isturned away from him in a dramatic frieze. Rudy is waiting on the other side ofparquet tile, looking like a gymnast ready to mount a pommel horse.

Jodi stands still like that for a good ten seconds, as themusic takes its time to start. In the still air, her mom whispers to our table,“She was always such a graceful dancer.”

I suddenly have a flash of Jodi in another place and time.I imagine her at five, in her first tap recital, hair curled and piled on herhead. At ten, learning all of Paula Abdul’s and Janet Jackson’s choreography toperfection. At fifteen, starring in her high school’s version of Chicago.

Picturing Jodi through the ages is a good distraction forme at the moment.

Their music finally begins. It’s a pumped-up dance songwith a heavy bass at the onset. Jodi saunters across the floor in long, sexystrides, and meets Rudy in the middle. Quickly, she throws her right leg ontohis shoulder.

“Yowza,” Great-Aunt Elaine says. I couldn’t agree more.

He catches her by the ankle and spins her around so she isfacing our table. Underwear be damned, the woman is wearing lace spandex bikeshorts under her dress! It is sheer genius, having the double effect of hidingher privates while also providing extra tummy support.

One can only hope that Leslie has been as wise.

Jodi continues to silence the crowd with the technicaldifficulty of her steps combined with some sort of freakish flexibility. At thestart of the routine, people cheer and clap whenever the couple shows off agreat new move. But with each passing minute, the room grows quieter andquieter, lost in the beauty of their dance.

She catches my eye for a second, looking really upset. Isshe hurt? Has she twisted her ankle? I scan her legs for signs of fatigue orinjury, but her step still seem confident and finessed. Jodi’s years ofexperience on the stage must be telling her something.

Her uncertainty brings me out of the moment and makes meworry about Doug. I picture him sipping a grande skim latte, staring off intospace as teenagers and old couples file in and out of the coffee shop, theminutes passing unnoticed.

I hope he will wait for me.

Suddenly, Jodi looks my way again. She is definitelytrying to tell me something. Does she want to give up? Has she torn a ligament?But she’s come so far. I can’t let her stop now, not when the memory of SoniaGoldberg, Ziegfeld Girl, hovers over the room.

“What’s up?” I ask Kat.

“Dunno. Looks like she’s upset about something.”

“Cheer louder!” I insist.

We stand up. As the music comes to its final moments, Ifeel like Béla Károlyi at the ’96 Olympics, telling Kerri Strug to stick thelanding, despite her injury. Stick the landing! Stick the landing! I feel somoved that I say it aloud, Russian accent and all: “Stick the landing, Jodi!”

The music bangs out a final note. Jodi slides into a fullsplit, arms raised above her in a V for victory.

Needless to say, the girl sticks her landing.

When it is all over and she’s finished smiling and bowing,Jodi comes over to our table. She has her death-stare radar set on me and Kat,completely pushing Lee and his bouquet of calla lilies out of the way so shecan reach my chair ASAP. I see the daggers in her eyes, and my first thought isnot that she had been injured, but that for some reason, I amgoing to be. I steady myself for a coming assault, although for what I can’timagine.

“I totally fucked up!” she whisper-screams to meand Kat. “Did you see how I missed those first few steps? I can’t believeit! How many people do you think noticed?” She takes a deep, rattled breathand looks at us intently.

I am relieved that nothing is, apparently, my fault.Beyond that, I have no idea what she’s talking about. Her dance was flawless.Also, last time I checked, this is not the real Dancing with the Stars.It’s not the Olympics, or even the Olympic trials. Not even close. But Jodi istoo far gone for this type of logic; the truth doesn’t matter to her.

It’s time to muster up some serious attitude.

I give Kat a look, saying, me first.

Then I take Jodi firmly by the arms and make sure to givemy most penetrating gaze. “You were fucking awesome, are you kidding me? Youdanced circles around Rudy!”

“You’re a star!” Kat adds. “Friggin’ gorgeous, too.”

“You’re definitely going to beat Leslie!” I say, on a rollnow.

“Beat her, or win?” Jodi snaps back.

“Hey. Isn’t this a fundraiser?” Kat asks.

“And isn’t my marriage sort of falling apart while I’mtrying to cheer you on?” In this somewhat ridiculous event? I think.

Jodi turns away from us, a tear in her eye. “I’m sorry,guys. I don’t know why I’m being like this.”

“Because,” Kat says. “It’s something that matters to you.Something special, that sets you apart from all the other moms.”

Leslie’s name is announced, along with her dancepartner’s.

“Yeah, but,” Jodi says. “Who cares?” She tries to smile.“I mean, besides from me, who cares about this stupid competition?”

“We do,” I say, surprising myself. “If it’s important toyou, it’s important to us.”

Jodi leans into me and Kat and hugs us, one bony armaround each of us. “How fucked up am I?”

That question is too big to answer directly right now, soI don’t. “You’re going to win,” I say. “I promise.”

I stare down at the two pink ballots I received at thestart of the night, and begin to hatch a plan.

It’s only once I’m standing in the lobby with cash in myhand that I remember my promise to Doug. No bidding and no