Love, Novela [Completed]

Re: Church and other disturbing events

From: novela-harmon@bethel.edu>
Date: Sun, Sep 10, 2017 at 3:45 PM
Subject: Church and other disturbing events
To: grace-k-nelson@bethel.edu

Went to church today. I'd have to say I'm disappointed the only Protestant church I've found so far seems sort of cold and lifeless. I guess I expected to find a church like the ones we worked with on our mission trips: small but enthusiastic. This church - both building and congregation - was smallish, but apparently it's been around for a really long time. So I guess they've calmed down over the years, although I still don't see why they would be unfriendly. Only one person greeted me besides the pastor (which, again, was surprisingly lackluster). But I suppose I'll keep going there unless and until a better option appears.

Oh, and I did go dancing Saturday. It was... interesting. But good. I didn't have appropriate clothes at all. I wore jeans and that red long-sleeved v-neck shirt you made me buy at Kohls. My shoe options were all bad, too - running shoes, flip flops, or my black shoes (not sure what they're called, oxfords or loafers or something). I went with the black ones, which was only the least-bad option. I just didn't pack anything dressier because I didn't expect to need it, and I didn't go shopping because I wasn't sure what to get, or if I would use it more than once. I have a better idea now, although I still don't know if I'll be going out enough to make it worth the purchase. Sierra was complaining about her outfit too (although it was much more fitting than mine, in more ways than one). Anyway, she said she wanted to go shopping and we could go together. We'll see.

The place we went to was a huge restaurant/bar with a big stage and large dance floor. Alex told us to get there at 9:30 or 10:00.  I got there closer to 9:30. Some students had come for dinner and had been drinking since then. Then the girls with crushes on Alex kept asking him to dance so he spent most of the night dancing with them. I felt awkward because everyone who wasn't dancing was at the table drinking, and I didn't really want to drink much so I just ordered Pepsi and felt a little weird about it. But it was loud enough that most people couldn't hear me order and they probably assumed it contained alcohol.

But then Alex sat down to catch his breath and have a drink, and right then they started playing the song "Todo Tiene Su Final." It has a distinctive trombone introduction, and when I heard it I remembered Alex playing it in class and saying Hector Lavoe was one of the best salsa singers. I looked at him when I heard it, and he looked up and saw me. I only meant to let him know that I was paying attention in class, but I think he misinterpreted. He stood up and held his hand out, inviting me to dance. I was embarrassed because it seemed like I had initiated (without meaning to!) after judging the silly girls for the same thing. But there was nothing to do besides take his hand and follow him onto the dance floor.

I was tense at first because my salsa skills aren't that great yet and the situation caught me off guard. Alex put his right hand around my back, near my waist, and his left hand on my shoulder. This was closer than the way we'd practiced in class, but then the dance floor was really crowded. We started with the basic step, and I thought I was doing OK, although it took all my concentration to do the steps and keep the rhythm. Alex leaned into my ear (there was no way to hear otherwise) and said, in Spanish, "Don't force it. Feel the rhythm. Let me lead you." So I started focusing more on the pressure of his hands on my waist and arm. He was pushing and pulling me where he wanted me to go, and all I really had to do was let him. Once I relaxed a little, he started leading me into more turns and some steps he hadn't taught us. It was easier, and so much more fun. I started to feel like I was really dancing, not just repeating steps like in class. It was exhilarating, and I think I got a little addicted. After that he just watched me and didn't really say anything, but he smiled when I looked at him, so I must have been doing OK. Maybe I am cut out to be a dancer, after all.

I wanted to take public transportation home afterward, but Alex was overseeing each of our departures and insisted I take a taxi. I hate spending the extra money, although it's really not that expensive, especially compared to taxis in the US (or so I'm told). So I got home pretty quickly.

And then I remembered. Here I was, coming home late (it was after midnight), with the household asleep, after being out in a bar (although at least I wasn't drunk). If it was difficult climbing those stairs Friday night, it was ten times worse Saturday. Not only was it in those wee hours when ghouls come out, but now I was armed - cursed - with new information. Putting one leg in front of the other just to get to the staircase felt like walking through water, then I had to go up.

I charged like Teddy Roosevelt at San Juan Hill. Well, not really, but it felt like it. I figured the quicker it went, the less I'd suffer, and it was all foolishnesh anyway so the longer I dawdled, the more foolish I was.

Of course, there was nothing. I knew there would be nothing. I felt some momentary relief when I crossed the landing and nothing extraordinary happened. I did walk rather quickly, but I managed to do it quietly and normally enough that if Señora had come out of her room, she wouldn't have seen anything amiss.

But getting to my room, I had doubts immediately enter my mind again. What if there was something, and by keeping my eyes down and straight ahead, I just kept myself from seeing it? If I went back out now, would I see something? Of course not, I told myself. But I did not go out to use the bathroom, even to brush my teeth. I excused myself because of how late it was and how tired I was. I knew they were flimsy excuses, made worse by the fact that I knew that and was still telling them to myself. But the need was not as great this time to go near it, so I didn't.

I woke up several times in the night. I needed to go to the bathroom, but was totally unwilling to leave the room and walk within eyesight of that staircase. So I held it until I woke up the last time and it was morning. Somehow it's less terrifying during the day. Maybe it's because everything looks less scary in daylight, or maybe because of the accepted principle that spooks only come out at night. 

So that's been my weekend, and now I'd better finish that paper. I'd better get a good grade on this paper, because I've paid dearly for it.

Love, me