Act 2. Part 1. "... educating Velvet."A Chapter by B MacGregor You know it’s funny. When you watch two people dance, you tend to forget all about the murder and the burning bed. Act 2. Part 1. “… educating Velvet.”
Once upon a time I was twelve years old. It was right around the tender age of twelve that I discovered dancing, boys, and love. I discovered many other things, but those were the important ones. Oh yeah, I also discovered how to shine. I was twelve years old when I developed my first, true crush. That’s how the love story started, with a wanton crush when I was in sixth grade. Of course my crush was on someone unattainable, like all teenage crushes. A teenage crush is nothing more than envy. You envy in other others what you naturally want the most, like sex or confidence. My first crush was someone unintended. Pity. I think I could have taught him a thing or two… now. But way back then, I was on the brink of adolescence. I should have been thankful for just his smile. At the tender age of twelve I had become accustomed to my skin. However, the rest of me was a tender mess. Deep down, I wanted to stay a child. There’s something comforting about being a child. I guess it’s traditional and comforting. I never wanted to play spin the bottle or the other kissing games. I wasn’t comfortable with kissing. I didn’t think I was a good kisser. Not at twelve, not just yet. I thought there was some secret recipe to it. And nobody bothered to tell me what it was. I definitely needed another chapter in my life before I learned how to kiss. All the other kids were falling in love and experimenting with their first kiss, among other things. I wasn’t quite there. I wanted to play with my toys. I didn’t want to give up my horses and unicorns, and all of my stuffed animals. I certainly wasn’t ready to accept my sexuality. It needed more time to mature and blossom. The truth is, and I can say this now, I was afraid of sex. I was horrified by it. Sex is one of those things that once you start you have to finish"it make take years or decades, but eventually you have to find yourself. Sex changes everything. It teaches kids what’s hot and what’s not. Like dancing, every child thinks dancing is hot, right? I guess that’s where it all started, my need to dance. It was an attempt to be sexy. Dancing defined me. I just wasn’t sure what the definition meant. However, there was someone who was willing to teach me. Someone I secretly desired. In sixth grade I wasn’t too popular in school, more like a lone wolf, yet prone to crushes. Everyone was changing. The kids my age were running away from their childhood and toward the thrill of a being teenager, the last two-step from being an adult. The other kids used to tease me. Not to my face, but I knew. It was usually in a subtle way, just to the side of me, slightly behind my back. I think they were jealous. They were envious. I was content to be a child and they were content to be anything else but. They were anxious to write their own love stories and anxious to become their own characters. They didn’t know the sorrow of true adulthood. No one shared with them the almighty secret that being an adult really kind of sucks. It’s all about responsibility and survival, all forms of survival. It’s not as much fun as it looks. It’s like a good crush. Have you ever noticed a good crush is never what it’s cracked up to be? The fantasy is always more tempting than the actual thing. But that’s the wicked nature of a good crush. It’s the draw and the lure. Deep down, it’s a lonesome feeling. It feels like being injured, unable to walk or dance. You know, if feels like a real disability. Luckily, there was a new face in school that year... a new recruit, new meat. He lit a fire in me about sex and adulthood. The whole jazz, so to speak. He was beautiful with the best smile I’d ever seen. It was genuine and righteous, such a beautiful smile that I started to smile too. He helped me with my books, my classes and the other students. He cheered and encouraged me. He lifted me. For the first time in my life I enjoyed being dependent on someone else. I enjoyed the feeling of a crippling reliance. I didn’t want to function on my own. It was a true crush. He taught me to express myself with ease. He complimented me in front of everyone. He told me I had a beautiful smile. It was all he needed to say. Suddenly everyone noticed me. I was no longer invisible. I was no longer beside the other kids. And I wasn’t behind them. His words brought me to life. His compliment made me stand apart. “You danced very well, Velvet.” It was the right set of words to be spoken at a six grade class dance recital. It changed me. It told me what I should do. He coaxed me to stand. He taught me how to walk and to eventually run and more importantly, how to dance. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to dance whenever he was around. I wanted to celebrate the light in his smile. I wanted him to shine his light on me. I guess he moved me. One day after class, he cornered me by my locker. I was vulnerable, quivering. He stretched his arm to lean on the locker. In the sleeve of his polo shirt, under his arm, I saw subtle flashes of hair. I couldn’t help but stare. It was strange to me. Forbidden. It was adult, such a foreign notion. He told me I would succeed in life. I’m not sure how he knew, but I trusted him. Was that wrong? I guess I trusted his smile. It was sincere, and I'm a sucker for sincere. With his smile, I realized it was ok to dance. It’s always ok to dance. I learned the true shame is not dancing whenever we feel like it. The true sin is holding back. It’s sinful to hold childhood so tightly that we forget about the pleasure of exploring something new… like being an adult, like love. And, I was in love, completely and utterly in love. He bent to my ear. He whispered tender and educating words, filled with adult wisdom:
“Remember Velvet, smile. Everyone else will wonder what you’re smiling about. But we’ll know. It will be our little secret. Ok? Whenever you feel it, smile. And if dancing makes you smile, then dance. Dance Velvet, dance. ”
Trainer was there to motivate me to find my sexuality, to move me and become an adult. God bless him. My first crush was on my sixth grade PE teacher (Trainer), a teacher, with a true interest to educate. He coached my heart and healed my spirit. He taught me I was pretty… all because of his smile. Yeah, he had a great smile. His smile could convince anyone they were special. I still have a crush on you, Trainer, if you’re interested. I would gladly date a man ten to fifteen years older than me. Now, an older man seems so much more practical and attractive. But I warn you, there were others and they weren’t so encouraging. I’m not exactly innocent anymore. I hope you don’t mind. To tell the truth, I envy you. I guess that’s what you wanted. I had to envy you to make your lessons that much more interesting. It’s why I wanted you to be my teacher. I wish you were still in my life educating me… educating Velvet all about envy.
© 2010 B MacGregorAuthor's Note
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