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“Your roommate’s boyfriend still there?” I ask.
“Yeah, I don’t think he’s ever leaving.” Lexi shoves on her shoes. “He’s pretty much moved in,” she continues. “It’s not the sex that keeps me up. It’s loud, but I don’t care about that. It doesn’t last that long.”
I grin at Lexi as I pack everything in my dance bag.
“Last night, he fell asleep in the living room watchingBlue Planetat full volume. I had to go out and shut the damn TV off myself. He doesn’t wash his dishes, leaves his crumbs all over the table. Have you ever had to share a bathroom with a guy?”
I shake my head no.
“God damn! It’s awful. Fucking rinse out the sink after you shave!” We walk out of the dressing room as Lexi continues. “Did I tell you she makes him sleep in a sleeping bag?”
“What?” I laugh.
“Yeah,” Lexi smiles at me as we enter the lobby. “I heard her telling him that he moves too much in his sleep. So, she makes him sleep in a sleeping bag next to her but on top of the covers.” Lexi shakes her head. “Fucking weirdos. That’s the last time I ever move in with one of my sister’s friends.”
“Gina!” I hear Alvaro’s distinct accent behind me as we reach the doors out to the street. Lexi and I turn.
“I don’t want to distract you too much before tomorrow’s show,” Alvaro continues as he walks across the lobby toward us. “But nice job on the proposal for your piece.”
“Thank you,” I say, feeling my voice quiver as I say it. Alvaro’s not necessarily intimidating. He’s not mean. He’s just… authoritative. And in the ballet world, he’s pretty well known. As a dancer you get used to receiving far more critiques and corrections than compliments. It can get old.
“Your piece was one of the more thoughtful and put-together proposals,” Alvaro says. “But I want you to start working on it next week. Start thinking about who you want to cast. Any of the students from the school will be happy to join if you’ll have them. And start booking your time in the studio. I’ll find some time next week to give you my feedback and suggestions on what you’ve got so far.”
Before I even respond, Alvaro has already turned and started walking back across the lobby to the dressing rooms. He’s always in a hurry and is probably rushing off to find someone else he needs to give information to. “Goodnight!” he calls out without turning around as he leaves the lobby.
I turn to Lexi. She just nods and smiles. I bite my bottom lip and just stare at her. I almost regret having my piece chosen. What was I thinking taking this on? What if I just fuck it all up?
Lexi leans against the door and pushes it open with her back. “Are you planning to move out of your parents’ house any time soon? I promise I’d make a good roommate.”
“I don’t know,” I reply. I wouldn’t say I enjoy living with my parents. But I’m used to it. It’s not calm and relaxing at home. But I can only imagine how much more stress it would be to move out. Especially after hearing what it’s like to have a roommate like Lexi’s.
“I haven’t thought too much about it,” I say. “But I get the sense Archie thinks we should get a place together.”
While we wait for the light of the crosswalk to change, Lexi raises her eyebrows without turning to look at me. I can almost feel her trying not to roll her eyes. I’m sure Lexi doesn’t like Archie even though she’s only met him a couple of times.
“I don’t know,” I say again. “Living with my parents is at least…” I try to search for the right word. What is it? It’s notgood, notenjoyable. “Convenient,” I decide.
Lexi and I walk down the street to the parking lot.
“Do your parents need another roommate?” Lexi teases. “I’m sure they’ve got room for me. Your house is plenty huge.”
“That depends. How are you with overly-judgmental parents who think being a dancer in the corps is a failure?” I ask Lexi as we reach our cars.
“Still sounds better than Mr. Sleeping-Bag Beard-Sprinkles.”
I laugh, once again picturing Lexi’s roommate situation as she opens her car door.
“Seriously though,” Lexi tosses her dance bag into her Chevy Malibu and then talks to me over the top of it as I open my own car door. “Your parents should be fucking proud of you. You’re choreographing for PBT’s summer showcase.”
I can’t help smiling, even though I know Lexi is wrong. My parents won’t be proud. Some people, like Lexi, know this is meaningful. “I could be Twyla Tharp and my father would still wish I was a lawyer.”
“Fuck him,” Lexi shrugs. “See you tomorrow,” she gives me a small salute and gets in her car.
* * *
