where: senior/rec center where nora teaches salsa sometimes
when: saturday morning
with: @noravidal
When Mrs. Mason had called up Celeste to say that she was taking a salsa class at a rec center, and would Celeste please be so kind as to come by, watch, and tell her if she was doing it right, she couldn’t refuse. Even though she wanted to say you know salsa is certainly not my specialty, right? That I am not the one to ask for advice on that even if I did have some practice with it as a child. Minimal practice, as that hadn’t been the focus of her studio. However, she couldn’t say no to the woman who had, on many occasions, watched her and her sister when they were children. Who had let her hang up galleries of artwork and who’d come to her Juilliard graduation.
So she’d made her way over to the center, looked at all the offerings - when she noticed the name listed next to the class Mrs. Mason was going to. One that she hadn’t thought of in more time than she liked to admit to - one who she’d known as a child, found a kinship with even if the other girl had been closer to her sister’s age than her own.
Even if she knew that maybe leaving would have been the best bet, she wasn’t one to go back on promises, and Mrs. Mason had seemed so very pleased that she was coming by, and so instead she tucked herself away in a corner, grateful that the class seemed to be quite full, and watched, offering the older woman a wave every now and then.
Then the class was over and the room quickly emptied - Mrs. Mason’s departure came along with a request for Celeste to come by for dinner sometime soon, a proposition she quickly agreed to -
- and then it was just her and Nora in the room, and she approached the other woman, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I - hi, Nora.” She offered the other woman a small, careful smile. “Should I be seeing you as my competition now? That class you led was utterly fantastic.” It was the honest truth - even if the other woman wasn’t going to do dance as a profession, she certainly held a great deal of talent, and Celeste could tell that everyone in the class truly appreciated her, and enjoyed themselves. “I - how are you?” Perhaps bordering on too formal, for someone who she’d used to follow around and beg her for hugs and ask her to take her to a nearby bodega because Nora was older and therefore more responsible, and she knew how to pick the best sodas and chips at the store. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to be entirely the girl she used to be.