Disclaimer: Characters belong to Jonathan Larson.
"Where'd you learn to tango?"
"With the French Ambassador's daughter in her dorm room at Miss Porter's. And you?"
"With Nanette Himmelfarb, the Rabbi's daughter, at the Scarsdale Jewish Community Center."
--
"Marky," Mrs. Cohen sang in an annoyingly high pitched squeal, " I have a surprise for you."
Fourteen year-old Mark Cohen looked up from his book, big blue eyes peering through oval frames. His mother stood in front of him, a huge smile plastered on her face. His big sister, Cindy, stood behind her, snickering. It was Mark's first day of summer vacation and Cindy had just come home to Scarsdale from college.
"What?"
"I was at the SJCC today and I was talking to Rabbi Himmelfarb," Mrs. Cohen began.
Mark hated when his mom called the Scarsdale Jewish Community Center the SJCC. She was trying to sound trendy, but she wasn't. "What is wrong with her?" Mark pointed at Cindy, who was now snorting in laugher.
Mrs. Cohen gave Cindy a death glare before continuing. "As I was saying, Rabbi Himmelfarb's daughter, you know Nanette?"
Mark shrugged.
"She is getting tango lessons from Miss Goldstein. Since her cousin, you know Peter, broke his leg, he can't take the lessons with her. So poor Nanette has no one."
"What a shame," Mark commented sarcastically.
"So I told him you'd take lessons with her," Mrs. Cohen finished.
"What!"
Cindy was roaring on the floor, a bit immature for a nineteen year-old.
"I can't take tango lessons!" Mark cried. "I'm Jewish, I can't dance! I have no rhythm!"
"Oh, stop listening to stupid stereotypes," she shrugged him off.
"Oh, but with him it's true!" Cindy had regained her composure. "Have you seen your son dance?"
Mark didn't even take it as an insult. "Listen to her!"
"Maybe you'll improve," and with that she left the room.
"Ah-ha," Cindy said before heading upstairs.
"Great," Mark huffed, going back to his book.
--
"Marky, wake up," Mrs. Cohen cried shrilly.
Mark opened his eyes. Eight am. "But Mom, it's summer."
"Tango lessons, dear," she laid black dress pants and what she called "tango shoes" at the foot of his bed. He dressed quickly and headed to breakfast.
"Picture!" Mrs. Cohen whipped out a large camera.
"No, Mom," Mark objected.
"But you love cameras!"
"Only when I'm taking the pictures," Mark replied. "Let's go."
"You know, Nanette is becoming such a pretty girl," Mrs. Cohen. "Maybe you'll get a girlfriend! Oh Marky, your first kiss!"
"Mom!"
"Have you had your first kiss? Did you tell your father?"
"I never admitted to anything! Jeez."
"Well, we're here," Mrs. Cohen stopped. "Bye, sweetie."
Mark didn't say goodbye. He just trudged into the building angrily. He gave his greetings to the Rabbi. He was then introduced to Nanette. He didn't know what his mom was thinking when she said that Nanette was pretty. She looked like a thin pancake. She was lanky and flat. Very bony. Her brown curls were pulled into a bushy ponytail and large buck teeth protruded from her mouth. She had round glasses, so thick they made her eyes look twice as big as they really were. For once, Mark appreciated his small oval glasses.
"Hi, Mark," her voice was high pitched, like his mother's.
"Um, hi, Nanette," Mark stared at his feet.
"Shall we begin?" Miss Goldstein asked.
Mark was silent. Nanette nodded.
Nanette was instructed to place her hands on Mark's shoulders. Mark shuddered as her bony fingers gripped his shoulders. He placed his hands on her waist and waited for further instruction.
"Now, Nanette, move your right foot back, Mark yours forward," Mrs. Goldstein said. "Then repeat with your left."
They did the step successfully a few times. Nanette's heel of her shoe dug into Mark's foot.
"Dammit!" Mark shouted, letting go and grabbing his foot.
"I'm sorry!" Nanette cried.
"Language Mark," Mrs. Goldstein said sternly. "Say a prayer."
Mark glared and muttered something quickly in Hebrew. Once his foot felt better, he walked back over. Nanette stepped on his feet a few more times. Mark assured her that it didn't hurt, since she had already numbed his foot.
"Oh."
Mark decided she wasn't too bright. She didn't seem to catch his sarcasm.
When lessons were finally over, Mark bolted out of the building. Cindy was waiting in the car. "How was it?"
"I cannot feel my feet," Mark said coldly. "She's a worse dancer than I am."
Cindy laughed. "It's only for five more weeks."
"Only."
"When did you become so sarcastic?" Cindy asked. "What happened to the little brother I left when I went to college?"
"The one you used to buy ice cream for?"
"Yeah, I miss him."
"He's right here," Mark smiled.
"I guess you want ice cream," Cindy laughed.
--
Three days a week for the next four weeks, Mark tangoed with Nanette. She improved greatly, no longer stepping on Mark's feet and performing the twists and complicated steps with ease. Mark, quite the opposite of the stereotype he suggested, had developed into quite the dancer. Mrs. Goldstein was constantly complimenting him.
He shrugged it off. "When am I going to tango in my life?"
On this particular day, Mrs. Goldstein was late. Mark was playing with camera. Nanette watched him. Her hair was down today, framing her face rather nicely.
"You know, you actually look kind of pretty with your hair like that," Mark complimented.
"Thanks," she blushed.
He lifted up his camera. "Say hi, Nanette."
"Oh, Mark, turn it off," she turned her face away.
"Aw, come on."
"Hi," she said, not looking.
"Fine," he turned the camera on himself. "Nanette is being shy, so I'll just film myself being sexy."
Nanette giggled. Mark laughed too, laying the camera down. Maybe she likes me. Mark thought about his love life. He had liked a few girls, but he never had a serious girlfriend. He had never kissed a girl either. He was pretty sure Nanette had never kissed a boy. Most guys would dismiss her based on looks before getting to know how nice she really was.
"Want me to show you some stuff on my camera?"
She nodded.
Mark inched closer and began pointing out random camera parts and what they did. Their faces were so close. Mark turned to look at her. Leaning closer, his lips touched hers and they kissed.
It was a nice feeling. It seemed to open up things for him. He had the confidence to talk to girls. He also had a new found friendship with Nanette. Although their relationship never advanced past that kiss, they remained friends throughout high school.
"I still don't know why I need to know how to tango," Mark said at the last lesson.
"You never know," Nanette replied.
--
Boy was she right, Mark thought as he tangoed with Joanne backstage at Maureen's performance. I learned to dance so I could tango with my ex-girlfriend's girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend's girlfriend… that's going to take some getting used to.
Fin