“Julian, which leg am I on now?”

His smile was enigmatic. “The leg is irrelevant. Remember, it’s not the steps. It’s the feeling. That is dancing. Amateurs, they dance steps.”

Julian let go of me and pretended to dance, jerking his arms and legs independently of his torso. “Left, right, left, right, like a robot.”

Then he integrated his body and became a great flowing animal again. He rippled from his stomach out to his chest and then through his arms and legs. “A true dancer dances center to center.” He drew a line in the air from his torso to mine. “We dance heart to heart. I am still amazed by the number of students who believe steps are dancing. The steps are nothing. A true dancer moves with her body, her center, her heart, and the legs are only there to catch her so she does not fall. If the movement of the center is correct, the feet will be where they need to be.”

This I understood. Godmother had trained me for years to feel my center. I breathed in and found mine.

He put his hands on either side of my waist and swayed me so that I naturally took a step forward. It was my left leg I needed to stand on. That was clear now.

“There are two main types of ballroom dance: standard and Latin. In the U.S., those styles are called ‘smooth’ and ‘rhythm’ but people tend to use the terms interchangeably. Of course, there are technical differences between international and American style, which you don’t need to worry about yet. For now, there are two sorts of walk you’ll need to learn. A standard or smooth walk.” He released me and glided forward and backward on his feet, taking long, smooth steps that led with his heels.

“And a Latin or rhythm walk.” Now he pushed his weight onto his feet, rolling his hips, grinding his feet into the floor. “Do you see the damage on Katerina’s shoes?”

I looked down and nodded. The inside surfaces of both shoes had holes in them, although the sandals in general looked fairly new.

“They are the result of Latin technique.” He stood behind me, both of us facing the mirror. I didn’t want to think what Pa would say if he could see us now. I could feel the heat of Julian’s body behind me. He put his hands on my pelvic bones, at the corner of my hips. He had to bend down so his cheek was nearly next to mine, then shifted his legs together with mine. “One leg straight and one leg bent. Switch. Roll through your feet. Now, other leg. One straight, one bent.” He gently pushed my hips back and forth, rolling them. “Weight transfer and release. Hold your top still. Very good.”

He straightened and released me. My face, neck and ears must have been glowing. “That is what Latin feels like. Like the heat of the sun on your body, while you’re drawing in the sand with your toes. Now, waltz.”

He took a few steps away from me. He stood proud and held his hand out to me as if he were a prince. My head swam. I went over to him.

“No,” he said. “Let’s change places for a moment.” He pretended to be me. “We begin a waltz like this.” He threw his head back, shoulders down, stomach in, extended his arm and glided over to me, then gently laid his hand in mine. He fluttered his eyelashes at me.

I laughed.

“Okay, once more.” We changed places so that he was once again doing the man’s part. I employed all of my muscles to glide over to him like he’d done. “Much better. Now, for the first time, we shall waltz.”

As we started to dance together, he looked at me with some surprise. “You move very well.”

It felt wonderful in Julian’s arms. I knew it was only because he was a world-class dancer, but it felt like being in love. When he held me, it was as if my body knew what to do without any thinking at all.

“You make me seem graceful,” I said.

“Do you think of yourself as not?”

“I’m clumsy. I drop everything. I can’t sew or cook.”

“Never confuse small and large motor coordination,” he said, spinning us through the room. “Many dancers are awkward with their hands. That has nothing to do with their bodies.”

“Really?” I thought about this for a moment. “Are you clumsy too?”

He broke dance position with his head to look directly at me. “I assure you I am highly skilled with my hands. Would you care for a private demonstration?”

Right. I shook my head quickly and kept silent for the rest of our dance. By the end of that lesson, I’d learned how to do the basic box and how to make it into rumba, foxtrot and waltz by changing the way my body moved. We’d covered the basic steps in swing, plus an underarm turn. I’d also done a simple turn in rumba and waltz. I looked up to see Adrienne watching us through the window in the door just before she stepped through it.

“You’re wonderful, Julian,” she said. “How is she?”

I stood there while they continued to talk about me as if I weren’t there.

“She’s a quick learner. Light on her feet,” he said. “Absolutely no ballroom technique at all, which is to be expected.”

Adrienne looked me up and down. “That doesn’t matter. Nina’s right, the beginners won’t be able to tell. We just need to get through this one class.”

Adrienne walked over to me and allowed me to take her in dance position, so that I was doing the man’s part. Her stomach bumped against mine. “Show me what you’ve learned.”

I took a deep breath, then did the steps Julian had shown me. I started doing a slow rumba box with her, then into an underarm turn. Despite needing to keep some distance between us because of her protruding belly, I could give her the lightest of impulses and she would execute the step, beautifully. I’d never seen a heavily pregnant woman move like this. Now that I’d tried to do the steps myself, I realized how good she was. She made it easy.

Someone clapped from the main doorway. It was Dominic. “Well, well, well. Maybe this won’t be a total disaster after all.”

I stepped away from Adrienne. “It was all Julian’s work,” I said, turning to him. “Thank you.”

Julian gave me a formal little nod, reverting back to his role as renowned judge and coach. “It was my pleasure.” Then he strode over to Dominic, put his arm around him, and the two of them walked off, discussing the upcoming showcase.

—

At home the next morning, after Pa and Lisa had left, I pushed all of the furniture aside to make a small clearing in the middle of our living room. I ran over the steps I’d learned again and again. Man’s part, lady’s part. It was hard to do without a partner. I felt confused. One moment, I thought I knew it, and the next, I was sure I’d mess everything up again. I went over to Ma’s altar and lit a stick of incense. “Please, Ma, lend me your strength today.”

We had agreed I would borrow Nina’s dress and Katerina’s shoes for the lesson that day. Before the class, Nina had me practice teaching her. We did a run-through in the small ballroom. It was much easier to practice with her because it was clearer where my arms and feet needed to be in relation to another person. I only needed to show the students a few steps and most of the class would consist of them practicing what they’d learned.

“You’ll be fine,” Nina said.

I couldn’t seem to stop trembling. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“You used to teach some, right? Just think of this as tai chi to music.”

I tried to smile. “And after this, I’m never coming out from behind my receptionist desk again.”

When the students arrived for the beginners’ group lesson, many of them seemed even more nervous than I was. I waited for them inside the small ballroom, wiping my sweaty hands against my borrowed blue dress. I thought of Nina’s words: tai chi to music, that was all. I could do this. There were about twenty people, ages ranging from midtwenties to almost sixty. About half of them were couples, the rest were mostly women who had come alone. I noticed one man in the back. In his workman’s pants and boots, he looked as out of place among the sophisticated clientele as I felt.