Jackie cracks one eye open. It’s slightly bloodshot. “Try what?”
“The…the reefer,” Claire says.
Jackie snorts. It turns quickly into a giggle, and her feet worm their way under Claire’s thigh. The warmth of them seems to burn. “Reefer. Haven’t heard that one in a while.”
“I’ve liked all the other new things you’ve shown me,” Claire says, watching the smoke curl lazily from the tip of the joint. “I trust you.”
Something comes over Jackie’s face, then. A tension, maybe, like a raincloud darkening the light in her eyes. But it passes quickly. Jackie sits up, handing the smoldering joint over to Claire.
Claire raises it to her mouth. It seems silly, but the part that Jackie touched to her lips seems warmer than the rest.
“Take a small drag. It’s probably going to make you cough,” Jackie says.
It does, in fact, make Claire cough. There’s a heaviness to breathing the smoke in that she didn’t expect. It’s a little bit acrid, but it isn’t as horrible as everyone has always made it sound. Jackie rubs her back throughout, helping her through the coughing fit. When Claire hands the joint back, she feels rather accomplished.
“I don’t feel any different,” Claire says. Her voice a little rough, and her eyes are watering from the coughing.
Jackie chuckles, taking another puff herself. “Give it a minute.”
A few minutes and a few lungfuls later, Claire can see what Jackie means.
Her skin feels strange. It’s slightly more sensitive than usual, and tingly in some places. Everything is just a little bit brighter. She can’t seem to control the things that come out of her mouth, and the heavy, anxious feeling that usually sits in her chest—always present, in some way, in every facet of her life—is completely gone. The world is justswellall over, and the jaunty, unfamiliar record that Jackie puts into the player makes Claire want to move her body.
Setting the joint at the edge of a crystal ashtray on the table, Claire lets her shoulders twist to the beat of the latest song. It’s upbeat and fun, and it fills her chest like a balloon. “What is this music?”
“The Supremes,” Jackie says, picking up the joint Claire just abandoned. She takes a long drag. Her foot is bopping, jumping to the song even if the rest of her is still. “Aren’t they great?”
“They’reamazing,” Claire says. She jumps to her feet, her hips already starting to twist. The song is too good to stay sitting—it feels like it’s inside her, zooming through every last one of her veins right to her heart. “Jackie, let’s dance.”
Jackie laughs, falling back against the couch cushions. “You have fun. I’ll just stay here, if you don’t mind.”
Claire keeps moving. The self-consciousness she might have felt about dancing in Jackie’s living room can’t seem to get its hooks into her—now that she’s started, she doesn’t want to stop. “Pete and I used to go dancing sometimes, when we were dating. He was awful at it, but we’d go to the dance hall and do the jitterbug until curfew.”
Jackie snorts. She’s looking up at Claire with what she hopes is affection. “I don’t think I’ve seen the jitterbug since I graduated high school.”
“Probably because that’s the last time I really got out of the house,” Claire says, starting a spirited hand-jive. “Pete and I stopped going dancing after we got married.”
Jackie’s smile fades into something more somber. It might even be pity, but Claire doesn’t care. As long as Jackie is looking at her at all, the world can’t be so bad.
“Won’t you join me?” Claire says, still bouncing as a new song comes on. It’s even jauntier than the last. “It’s no fun to dance all alone.”
Jackie sets the joint on the edge of an ashtray but doesn’t budge from the couch. “I haven’t danced like that in over a decade.”
“I’ll teach you,” Claire says. She twirls, splaying out her arms for balance, spinning and spinning until she’s dizzy. When the world stops lurching, Jackie is looking at her with one of those half-smiles. It reveals so little of her thoughts, and Claire wonders for the hundredth time what might be going through her mind.
To Claire’s surprise, Jackie hauls herself up off the couch. “Fine. Just for you, Claire.”
Claire manages not to jump and squeal in excitement, but only just.
“It’s all about constant movement,” Claire says, demonstrating a few steps. “Momentum. Once you know the basics, you can ad-lib together.”
Jackie copies Claire’s foot movement easily. It sets her long, flowing hair to bouncing, and Claire is made suddenlyveryaware that Jackie is not wearing a brassiere under her negligée.
The thought doesn’t feel as shameful as it should.
“So, something like this?” Jackie says, grabbing Claire’s hands. She pulls herself closer, swinging their linked arms as she copies Claire’s feet.
“Exactly like that,” Claire says. Jackie does a quick spin-out, still holding Claire’s hand—their linked arms go taut. “You’re better at this than I am.”
