Next thing I knew we were doing triplets across the floor: One-two-three. One-two-three. He tapped my shoulder. Said his name was Jesse-two-three. “Oh,” I said, smiling, just to be cute and uninterested, as if I could lie right through these popeyes of mine with my teeth doing a kick-two-three out of my mouth, which is too big anyway. He took my hand and we were off across the floor-two-three. One-two-three. “It’s not only a woman’s name,” he said as we joined a new line going back across the floor-two-three. By then, I was really grinning, letting all my teeth show. And since we were keeping good time, I decided to be bold. I said, “All the Jesses I’ve ever known have been men.” He smiled again and danced closer-two-three. We headed back across the floor. “I’m Ruella McPhee,” I said, trying to be as graceful as he, especially on the lift-two-three when you turn out your knees and lift your stomach high into the chest-two-three. That’s when I started feeling something I shouldn’t even have been thinking about. I brushed back my short hair, which didn’t go anyplace, really, but the gesture made me feel rich.

Which is why I wanted to be a dancer in the first place. Gestures. Movement. Getting control of your body. Not like those times when I was a kid and couldn’t stop crying for the itchy rash covering my ass and all I could do was a two-step in pain, hollering “Mama! Daddy! Phillip! Somebody help me!” The medicine wasn’t working, and for the first time I was on my own, dancing solo around a waiting basin of hot water and salves that would tighten the skin on my butt and hurt even more. By the time I was grown nobody could see the rash, so I knew I could hide things. Like the keloid behind my ear no one could see. Not even my brother Phillip, who had left by then. It was Aunt Lois who screamed at me when I went ahead and had my ear pierced. She said it was vulgar. And when the keloid appeared, I knew it was her curse on me for acting so grown. But she never even saw it. I wasn’t about to give her that satisfaction.