A whole bunch of things… 1. I don't care if the tango isn't about passion. That line kinda turns out to important later on in the story. 2. Sorry this is so depressing, but I had writer's block and this was all I could think of. 3. This is actually a pretty long chapter! 4. Enjoy!
"The tango is about passion," Gary instructed, "So to pass this course, I need to sense passion. Let's begin."
The few weeks of tango lessons were up- in fact this was the last session. Mark sighed. "How am I supposed to get passionate with a girl I don't even like. She scares me." He mumbled inaudibly.
The first pair to go was a middle-aged couple looking for some more romance in their lives. "Remember people," Gary reminded, "Passion."
The couple danced, but I wasn't paying attention, and I could tell Mark wasn't either.
"C'mon!" Nanette squealed suddenly, dragging Mark by me onto the dance floor, "We're going next!"
Mark could do little but oblige. I had a bad feeling about this…
Break Here
"Mark," Gary said sadly, "How many times must I say it? Passion."
Mark grumbled, but I had to agree with Gary. That had been so soulless. It, quite frankly, had been pathetic.
Break Here
"C'mon Marky," Nanette whined, twisting me around her bony finger, a habit I hated, "You owe this to me."
I glared daggers at Nanette. She was pressuring my Mark into something he didn't want to do.
I could feel the sweat on his neck building up. He was nervous, and I didn't blame him. "W-w-why do I owe you a-a-anything?" Mark asked.
"For tangoing so awfully earlier," Nanette answered immediately, "I know you can do better than that."
I knew he could too. Mark had practiced with Roger (after much bribing) almost everyday after school in the safety of Roger's basement.
"I dunno," Mark said hesitantly, beginning to give up, "I don't think this is such a good idea…"
"Marky," Nanette said, pulling him by me, again, into her bedroom, "My ideas are always good."
"Alright…"
"Oh Mark," I said, disappointed of my Mark for the first time, "How could you?"
Break Here
"Mark," Nanette said sternly when they were…finished, "I think we should break up."
Mark's eyes grew wide as he rolled out of bed and began tugging on his clothes. "Why?" he asked curiously, his blue eyes filled with sorrow.
She smirked. "I got what I wanted from you."
"I see."
Break Here
"She WHAT!" Roger asked angrily, holding his friend close as he cried into his shoulder.
"She ma-" Mark started.
"No!" Roger rushed, not wanting to hear the story again (as did I), "I mean, how could she dump you? You're a good guy Mark."
"I guess I'm not good enough." Mark said sadly.
I watched as Roger's face grew angry and he pushed Mark away roughly, still holding onto his shoulders tightly. "Don't say that ever again!" Roger threatened, "Or I'll have to personally kill you with my bare hands. You're better than anyone else I've ever met. Nanette's the whore that's going to hell. She's not good enough for you Mark."
Break Here
"Mark baby," Mrs. Cohen asked, noticed his tear-stained face as he walked into his home, "What's wrong?"
"I got dumped." He said quickly.
"Oh Mark," Mrs. Cohen said sympathetically, bringing her son into a hug and stroking his hair, making him burst out in tears again, "It's okay."
I watched as Mr. Cohen walked into the room. He yanked Mark away by the collar of his shirt and said, "Real men don't cry Mark. Are you gay? Because I don't want a queer living under my roof."
"No sir," Mark whispered, "I'm not gay."
"Good, then stop your crying and suck it up like a man…queer."
Mark hung his head shamefully. What a day this had been.