I’ve never been to a contemporary dance recital before. Or any kind of dance recital. I went to a lot of Tea’s piano performances though, and this feels quietly formal in the same way. I sit in the back, as far away from Jesse’s friends as possible. 

I wouldn’t mind them if they weren’t all so friendly. 

I have managed to learn their names—mostly since Tea will no doubt interrogate me about them during her next phone call. 

Kit and Danny are dating. Danny is the heavyset biracial kid. He likes to slap people on the back as a greeting. But he doesn’t do that to me. This makes me like him.

Kit is a platinum blond trans dude who has horn-rimmed librarian glasses and wears exclusively black and white clothing. He also has fake tattoos on his left arm. They are all black and show up really well on his pale skin. First I thought they were real, but they kept changing every few days. He’s an art major, so I guess that makes sense.

Bailey describes herself as penta-racial. She has pale brown skin, light brownish green eyes and curly pink hair—but it’s not natural. That’s what she tells everyone. “I’m not a natural pink-head.”

Bailey is the worst. She keeps trying to find me a girlfriend even though both Jesse and I have told her that I’m not interested. Then she asked if maybe she should be looking for a boyfriend instead. I didn’t have a chance to say anything before Jesse honestly fell down laughing. 

He thinks I’m pining for Tea. I don’t think that’s true. 

I can’t imagine enjoying the process of going out with someone Bailey found for me, especially if they were anything like her. She’s nice enough. But not what I’m looking for in a partner. 

I find most people dull or exhausting. Sometimes both. Jesse’s fine. He’s easy to be around. Unfortunately, spending time with him means spending time with these energetic friends of his. They are not dull. And they are certainly nice enough. But they are endlessly exhausting.

“Richard!” Bailey has spotted me. “We saved you a spot. And look, it’s by the aisle so you can escape quickly. There’s even a spare seat. See? Personal space. I’m learning.” She shows off the empty seat with a flourish.

Kit tells her to leave me alone, but Bailey presses on. “You know we rarely bite. You’ll see much better up here. And Jesse will be so happy to see you… Come on, Richie.”

“Richard,” I say automatically.

I don’t think Jesse will see me in the audience regardless of where I sit. I think stage lights make it impossible for performers to see who’s in the audience. I decide to placate Bailey in case she is right, though. I know it’s important to Jesse for me to be here. He kept asking if I was coming even though I told him I would. More than twice.

Why would I lie?

There are several dances before Jesse. The first one is embarrassingly sensual. I don’t feel like we should be watching it. There is no music, just a guy and a girl on stage wearing costumes that match their skin tone precisely, going through a series of very intimate poses. 

The second is a group of male dancers. The dance evokes waves crashing across the stage. Their costumes sometimes look like they are solid and sometimes fluid. I have no idea how they accomplish this. The lighting coordinates flawlessly with the music, which is almost recognizable. I didn’t pick up a program. I don’t care about the other dances. I’m only here because Jesse asked me to come.

His piece is third.

Jesse is dressed all in white. His shirt has long ties attached to the sleeves that exaggerate the movement of his arms. As he walks on the stage, the audience gets quiet. His bare feet don’t make any sound. When he reaches the center of the stage, the lights go out. When they come on again, there is only a spotlight. 

Jesse doesn’t look small on the stage. Standing there motionless he looks powerful. Commanding.

When the music starts, he comes to life. His arms and legs cover impossible arcs. I don’t have the words to describe what I am seeing. His hands communicate things so clearly that it’s almost like sign language, but more fluid. And I’m not quite sure what he’s saying.

Jesse lowers himself to the floor slowly, with impossible strength. And then somehow he is upright again. At one point in the piece he is flying. Only for a moment, but I swear he stops in midair. 

I have never seen anything like it.

When the lights come up again, Jesse looks straight at me and smiles so wide that I know he can see me. I am glad I sat here. I give him a nod and a thumbs up. 

I watch the rest of the recital, and come to the conclusion that I am not a fan of contemporary dance. But I am a fan of the way Jesse moves. 

I could watch an entire recital if it was nothing but him dancing.