The fact that they weren’t yet together didn’t matter because they would be, and soon. Heads turned at table after table. She knew they made a knockout couple, both tall and in charge of their bodies, Ginger in black tights under a short black jumper and mint green turtleneck. She nodded to two classmates and accepted hugs from three women she’d met at the bar and danced with once or twice.
A small corner table magically emptied once she had her drink and Ginger had her Tom Collins. She pulled out a chair for Ginger, who didn’t seem to think it odd that she, a woman, would do so. They talked about their favorite music—Jefferson’s devotion to Liszt and Queen and Ginger’s to Granados and Kraftwerk. She got Ginger to tell her about her kind of dancing.
“I saw a performance on TV, I was maybe five. Women and men, a rainbow of leotards, it was so beautiful.”
“So you had lessons.”
“Sure. Ballet. That was as close as I could get, but it was good training. In high school I had a teacher who was into modern dance. She helped me audit classes at Hunter, which is how I got in. I wasn’t much of a student otherwise.”
“So, you want to be a famous dancer? Do this for a living?”
Ginger’s face was flushed talking about her passion, and light from the bar’s neon advertising signs sparked in her eyes.
“I guess I’m trying to say I don’t care,” Ginger said. “So long as I’m dancing.”
Jefferson rubbed her chin and listened hard while Ginger talked about dancers she’d seen perform and music she wanted to use and how she was saving money to go to Europe—
“When?” Jefferson asked quickly.
Ginger looked at her, copper-colored eyebrows drawn together.
Had she guessed Jefferson’s quick anxiety? A trip overseas did not mesh with her plans to be with this woman. She covered, saying, “I want to go over there too. Some day.”
“That’s exactly my plan. Some day. It’ll be a long time before I can save enough.”
Would Jefferson’s parents pay for two? Her grandparents had offered to send her to the Salzburg Music Festival. She slowed herself down. First things first. She imagined herself kissing this woman, stroking the strong muscles in her thighs, in her calves, as she pressed her mouth between Ginger’s legs, as those legs extended over her head, quivering with tension, as they hugged her shoulders. She wanted her for keeps. This, she thought, higher than drinking ever got her, was the woman she intended to marry.
Ginger was asking her about herself.
“I’m a PE major too. I’ll probably teach.”
“Here, in the city?”
“Where else can I play handball?”
“Handball.”
“Handball is more exciting than field hockey, basketball, and softball combined. Kind of like a poor man’s racquetball.”
Ginger was looking at her with more interest now. “My brothers are big players. They’ve been in tournaments all around the city.”
Jefferson caught the waitress and asked for a refill. Ginger pulled some of her drink up through the straw, but was only about a third down.
“The other reason I want to stay here is for the life.”
“The life?”
“The gay life.” She watched for Ginger’s reaction.
“Sure,” Ginger said quickly. “The gay life.”
“Well, come on, you’re a PE major. You didn’t notice the department is crawling with us?”
“Not so much in dance. I mean, some of the guys, sure.”
“You don’t go out much, do you? I mean, except to dance.”
“There’s only so much of me. I work, I go to school, I rehearse, I set up performances, and I dance. Plus I serve in the dining hall to earn my board, and I’m an RA to earn my room. I go home to see my family a lot. Plus, the guys at school are, I don’t know, childish, I guess.”
“Do you like this kind of dancing?” She indicated the jukebox. Natalie Cole was singing “Our Love.”
Ginger listened intently for so long the song ended.
“That would be fun to choreograph, but
A small corner table magically emptied once she had her drink and Ginger had her Tom Collins. She pulled out a chair for Ginger, who didn’t seem to think it odd that she, a woman, would do so. They talked about their favorite music—Jefferson’s devotion to Liszt and Queen and Ginger’s to Granados and Kraftwerk. She got Ginger to tell her about her kind of dancing.
“I saw a performance on TV, I was maybe five. Women and men, a rainbow of leotards, it was so beautiful.”
“So you had lessons.”
“Sure. Ballet. That was as close as I could get, but it was good training. In high school I had a teacher who was into modern dance. She helped me audit classes at Hunter, which is how I got in. I wasn’t much of a student otherwise.”
“So, you want to be a famous dancer? Do this for a living?”
Ginger’s face was flushed talking about her passion, and light from the bar’s neon advertising signs sparked in her eyes.
“I guess I’m trying to say I don’t care,” Ginger said. “So long as I’m dancing.”
Jefferson rubbed her chin and listened hard while Ginger talked about dancers she’d seen perform and music she wanted to use and how she was saving money to go to Europe—
“When?” Jefferson asked quickly.
Ginger looked at her, copper-colored eyebrows drawn together.
Had she guessed Jefferson’s quick anxiety? A trip overseas did not mesh with her plans to be with this woman. She covered, saying, “I want to go over there too. Some day.”
“That’s exactly my plan. Some day. It’ll be a long time before I can save enough.”
Would Jefferson’s parents pay for two? Her grandparents had offered to send her to the Salzburg Music Festival. She slowed herself down. First things first. She imagined herself kissing this woman, stroking the strong muscles in her thighs, in her calves, as she pressed her mouth between Ginger’s legs, as those legs extended over her head, quivering with tension, as they hugged her shoulders. She wanted her for keeps. This, she thought, higher than drinking ever got her, was the woman she intended to marry.
Ginger was asking her about herself.
“I’m a PE major too. I’ll probably teach.”
“Here, in the city?”
“Where else can I play handball?”
“Handball.”
“Handball is more exciting than field hockey, basketball, and softball combined. Kind of like a poor man’s racquetball.”
Ginger was looking at her with more interest now. “My brothers are big players. They’ve been in tournaments all around the city.”
Jefferson caught the waitress and asked for a refill. Ginger pulled some of her drink up through the straw, but was only about a third down.
“The other reason I want to stay here is for the life.”
“The life?”
“The gay life.” She watched for Ginger’s reaction.
“Sure,” Ginger said quickly. “The gay life.”
“Well, come on, you’re a PE major. You didn’t notice the department is crawling with us?”
“Not so much in dance. I mean, some of the guys, sure.”
“You don’t go out much, do you? I mean, except to dance.”
“There’s only so much of me. I work, I go to school, I rehearse, I set up performances, and I dance. Plus I serve in the dining hall to earn my board, and I’m an RA to earn my room. I go home to see my family a lot. Plus, the guys at school are, I don’t know, childish, I guess.”
“Do you like this kind of dancing?” She indicated the jukebox. Natalie Cole was singing “Our Love.”
Ginger listened intently for so long the song ended.
“That would be fun to choreograph, but
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