The First Time
– Ahniwa Ferrari
I swung by your flat in Charlestown, shuffled about on your stoop before I tap-tap-tapped lightly on your door. My legs were jittery, my heart striking double-beat against my chest (snare on the even beats). The door, swinging open, revealed your face glowing in a soft electric light. We smiled in tandem, shyly hugged as you stepped aside to let me in. I led myself down the hall, turned right into your living room: soft colors and light plush with the stories you’ve spun, hanging in the air like whispers, just loud enough to get an idea, quiet enough to leave a mystery. You made a b-line to the kitchen, came back shortly with refreshments; cookies and milk as though we were in a black and white movie. I’d play Astaire to your Rogers.
We sat quietly for a moment, unsure of ourselves. I’d never done this before, either.
“So, is this your first time?” I dipped a bit of cookie into my milk, watched it absorb the white and cold and wet, drew it back before it dissolved and let it melt in my mouth.
Your hands clasped together, knuckles white, you watched my mundane cookie ritual. You stuttered a bit at first, “Ye… Yes, this is my first time. Is it your first- Oh, that’s a silly question, isn’t it? Of course this isn’t your first time.”
I finished my cookie and hopped out of my chair, trying to harness my nervous energy for what had to be done. “Actually, my first time teaching, one-on-one … yes.” I motioned for her to join me, standing in the middle of the room.
She stood up and took my hands as I offered them to her. Unsure where to look, her eyes wandered around until they decided that her feet would be the safest place. “Where do we start?” she asked, never looking up.
“Don’t look down. Your feet will just distract you.” She brought her head up, looked me in the eyes, smiled slightly. “We’ll start with the basic step; you on your right foot, me on the left, like this: step-step-rockstep. There you go, not bad. Just don’t look down.”