Chapter 14: I Hope You Dance (Part 1 of 2)
My friends, they're all growing up
Think they realized that nothing's as good as it seems
While I try to live off of my dream
Sleeping off a headache from the night I had
Just to get away and pretend I'm free
From responsibilities
Oh, I'll stop making excuses
And start making it better
But I'm too immature for that
-Ashe
“STACY! STACY! That was a red light! You just ran through a fucking red light!”
“No worries, Aunt Kiva,” my nineteen-year-old niece giggles. “There were no cars around.”
“I don’t CARE,” I scream back at her. “NEVER go through a red light. I hope there wasn’t a cop around.”
“Relax,” she dismisses me. “No cop saw us, and I know what I’m doing.”
This wasn’t the best time for Stacy to come and stay with me for the week, but I hadn’t seen her since I moved to Texas. We had always been close, ever since I’d babysat her when she was an infant. I felt more like a big sister than an aunt. With my soon-to-be ex-husband away for the week at a cardiology conference, I could take over the house again and accommodate her.
I love Stacy to death, and I know she idolizes me. She took a year off to work before attending college. She’s been calling and texting me for months, saying she wants to follow in my footsteps and become a nurse. She asked me to write a letter of recommendation for her. To be honest, since her arrival here, I’ve been disappointed by her immaturity and irresponsibility. Two days ago, I brought her into the hospital for volunteer work. I had to pull strings to approve it, but all she does is goof off and flirt with boys. Frankly, she’s embarrassing me. Later that night, she went to a party with a group of nursing students and came home at 2:00 a.m. drunk, puking her brains out. Today, I agreed to let her drive the Lexus, and I get…this.
“Seriously, Stacy, if you can’t learn to make better decisions, I will have to…Oh, Shit!”
The unmistakable blue and red lights flash from behind us. So much for no cops around. “Dammit, Stacy, pull over.”
“Driver’s license and vehicle registration, please,” the large man in the blue uniform orders. He sternly lectures Stacy as she nervously smiles like an idiot. As the policeman heads to his patrol car to write the ticket, I exit the passenger car door.
“Excuse me, officer,” I say softly as I approach the lawman, dressed in my blue work scrubs, dangling a stethoscope around my neck. “I can explain. It’s not my niece’s fault. It’s mine. You see, I’m an ICU nurse, and I got called in for emergency coverage. We’re short-staffed. My colleagues have been working for fourteen straight hours. I need to relieve them before it becomes too dangerous for patient safety. So, I was in a hurry. I let my niece drive me because she needs the car for later. And, well, I told her to run the red light. I mean, no one was in the intersection, and they’re waiting for me at work. I know that’s no excuse, but yeah, it was my fault, officer. I put Stacy up to it.”
The burly patrolman looks at both sides of my hospital badge. “Kiva Raines CCRN, huh,”
“Yes sir, that’s me,” I reply as he compares my face with the ID photo.
“Well, look,” his gruff voice says, “I’ll give your niece a warning this time. We want to support our front-line healthcare workers. But please obey the law next time.”
“Yes, officer, I will.”
He hands Stacy the warning slip, and we watch his police car take off.
“What did you tell him?” Stacy asks.
“Shut up and move over,” I demand. “I’m driving.”
I’m not proud of the fact that I slung Grade-A bullshit at a law enforcement officer. The truth is, I am working today, but not in the hospital. I’m an organizer for this year’s community health fair. The uniform is only for show while I interact with the public. I’m not sure why I tried to get Stacy off the hook. I’m already regretting my acting performance.
The hospital grounds are bustling with activity as exhibits and screening stations are set up. I set up my cardiac risk calculation table and send Stacy on a mission to distribute brochures and flyers. As one of the organizers, I look over the proceedings. Stations are set up for blood pressure readings, cholesterol levels, vaccines, early cancer detection, smoking cessation, information on alcohol and substance dependency, depression, suicide prevention, and PTSD. There are fun things as well. Next to me is a 15-foot-high walk-through replica of a human heart, complete with upper and lower chambers. There are rides, games, face paintings, and door prizes. I decide to take a stroll, starting with the sponsors' area.
“Thank you for your support, Mrs. Stanton,” I say to the large woman who looks to be in her mid-fifties, standing at a display marked with a banner, “Stanton Landscaping and Tree Farm.”
“My pleasure, honey,” she smiles through her leathery, weather-beaten face. “And call me Agnes. You people do good work. And if you come to our farm, I’ll give you half price on crepe myrtles, southern magnolias, and cottonwoods. And I’ll throw in a live oak for free. We’re located off Route-.”
“I know where your farm is. I was there once” The truth is I once saw more of Agnes than she would ever care to know.
“You have? When?”
“Um…that was…a while ago. I’ll definitely come back. Thank you for your offer.”
“No problem, sweetie.”
I hear a man’s voice behind me. “Hey there, kiddo.”
“Josh!”
“Hey, great job getting all this set up.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you could sponsor us.”
“Anytime, kiddo. And Cynthia sends her regards.”
“I’m sure.”
“And just so you know, I can get you a special Josh Garrison VIP discount on a 2019 Ford Fusion at the dealership. All you have to do is show up wearing this jersey and … here, take it.”
“Um … I already have one. But thanks, I’ll give it some consideration.”
I scan the crowd and see Stacy talking to a male medical student. She still hasn’t placed the flyers. I give her one task, and she fails at it. As I approach her, I bump into a large bald-headed man.
“Billy? I didn’t expect to see you here. I think you want to go around to the back. They’re doing free testing for sexually transmitted infections.”
“Real funny,” he mutters. “I’m here with my girl Tori. She’s giving vaccine shots. And when are you coming back to the club? We can use another punching bag.”
“Is that all you got, Billy?” I retort. “I could outwit you with half my brain tied behind my back.” I move on rather than waste my time trading barbs with this clown.
I lose sight of Stacy. I notice a new sponsor has arrived. A group of Indian women is setting up a banner over their table which reads, “Doshi Real Estate.” I walk over to introduce myself. I’m greeted by a pleasant middle-aged Indian woman named Ishita, who presents to me her daughters, Damini and Uma, and granddaughter Advika, who appears to be in her late teens. I know about the Doshis from Kelli. I find it amusing that the Doshis and Agnes Stanton are both here as sponsors. All we need is Kelli, and we’d have a reunion of the tree farm brawl. Today, however, the catpin holders are here to support a common good cause.
I exchange pleasantries with the Doshis. Advika hands me their promotional packet, complete with Doshi pens, writing pads, keychains, and their listings of properties. She’s a beautiful young woman, distinguished from her family by her lighter-toned skin, pretty blue eyes, and blonde-streaked long black hair.
After meeting the Doshis, I resume my search for Stacy. My eyes skim through the growing crowd until I partially see her. The reddish-brown hair is bobbing as she is talking to someone. Another man. Not surprising. As the two conversationalists come into view, my heart nearly stops as I recognize the man. I try to deny it, but there he is. Frank.
Oh fuck, I say to myself as I break into a gallop. I seize my niece by the arm, jerking her away. “Stop,” she protests. “What are you doing?”
I turn angrily to Frank. “If you go anywhere near her again,” I growl, “so help me, I’ll have you castrated!”
“Aunt Kiva, what's wrong with you?” Stacy asks with indignation. “Let go of me.”
“You’re coming with me!” I tell her as I lead her by the arm like she’s an ornery toddler.
“Stop, why are you acting like this?” she complains.
A gruff male voice calls my name, “Kiva!”
“Well, hello, General,” I say to the distinguished-looking elderly man. “Very nice to see you here.”
“Well,” he explains. “The old general was nearly dead as a fence post until you people fixed me up. I’m here to do what I can to give back. You’re all fine warriors. And…who is this lovely lady?”
“General, this is my niece, Stacy.”
He gives Stacy a salute. “Well,” he says, “I see the womenfolk in your family are of high-quality stock, like prime Angus cattle. I hope you’ll do some more breeding soon cause we need more fine people like you….Uh, is your husband here?”
“No sir, he’s at a meeting.”
“Oh,..uh.” He scratches his craggy face as if in deep thought. “Kiva, may I have a word with you in private? Pardon us, young lady,” he says, turning to Stacy.
The old man holds my arm and tilts his head toward mine. His low, raspy voice begins. “Listen, sugar dumpling, I think you’re a mighty fine woman. But, you see, well, you have one weakness. Now I’ve seen ya out in public without your man watching over ya. Your eyes start rovin’; your female blood gets overheated. Well, the next thing ya know, yer chasin after anything that has the ability to piss on a wall. And I’d hate to see ya settin a bad example for that pretty niece of yours. So, I suppose it’s up to me to keep an eye on you today. If I see ya doin anything to a man that might lead to hanky panky, the General is gonna execute an intervention. I’m gonna call it Operation Cool Off Kiva. Do we have an understanding?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Well, good. Godspeed, have fun, and behave yerself.”
“I will, Sir.”
I’m alone again with Stacy as we part with the General. Boy, is my life crazy, I tell myself.
I give up on Stacy as I continue to work the health fair. I can’t rely on her, and I don’t have time to waste hoping she’ll do something productive for me. I let her have her fun socializing. Finally, it’s closing time, and I take my station down without her. As I say goodbye to some of my coworkers and fellow organizers, I see her engaged in conversation with the Doshis. Earlier, I noticed her and Advika talking for quite a while. It makes sense. They’re about the same age, and Advika seems quite westernized. As I call her to leave, it looks like the two of them are exchanging contact information. If there is one thing Stacy does well, she's good at making friends.
There is clearly tension between us on the drive home. Our conversation is superficial. The two of us need to sit down and talk. We arrive home and order a pizza. She sits across from me, pouting like a petulant child. Our discussion starts.
“Aunt Kiva, I’m disappointed,” Stacy begins. “I came here to see you and talk about your letter of recommendation for me, and you treat me like a baby.”
“Oh, is that the reason you came here? For a letter?”
“No, not just that.”
“And what am I supposed to write? That you're mature? That you're responsible? That you’ll make a wonderful nurse?”
“So you’re not going to write the letter? Is that what you’re saying?”
“What I’m saying is that you’re nineteen years old and haven’t been responsible for anything in your life. Do you have any idea what nurses actually do? Nothing about nursing is fun and games.”
“I know that. Why are you telling me that?” Her voice gets louder and cracks as I notice tears forming in her eyes.
“Because I think you need to grow up and show some responsibility,” I answer.
“I am grown up,” her voice louder than ever.
“Is that why you slipped out of your volunteer job, making me look like a fool? How about coming home drunk, puking all over my bathroom? Or running a red light? Or ignoring the tasks I gave you at the health fair?”
“I thought we were going to have fun,” she whined. “What’s wrong with you? You used to be my favorite aunt. You used to be cool? Now, you act like an old lady.”
“We can have fun, but in the appropriate way. It’s not like when I used to babysit you. You’re an adult now. Act like one.”
“I AM an adult!” Stacy screams at me at the top of her lungs.
The discussion goes nowhere. For thirty minutes, we argue in a circle. Stacy seems to have little insight into her behavior. Maybe my brother and sister-in-law caused this. I always felt that they never let Stacy pay the consequences for her mistakes. She has never experienced the fallout from her bad decisions. She sits at the table sobbing as I finish giving her my assessment of her.
After several minutes, Stacy composes herself. Her green eyes are bloodshot from crying. Her voice chokes as she attempts to sound assertive. “Okay, Aunt Kiva, I’ve sat here and listened to you dumping on me. We’ll now, I’ve got something to say to you. So tell me, do you never make mistakes? Don’t you get crazy sometimes? Don’t you ever just let loose?”
Now she’s really annoying me. “I never said I don’t make mistakes,” I shoot back. Of course, I do dumb stuff sometimes. But I try my best to make the right decisions. It doesn’t always work out. I have to be responsible for a lot of people. I can’t be taking stupid risks.”
“Say that last part again,” my belligerent niece demands.
“I said I don’t take dumb risks.” I’m getting fed up with this smartass.
“Oh really,” she sneers. “You don’t do stupid, risky stuff. Did I hear that right?”
“Yes, that’s what I said. What are you getting at.”
Stacy starts a strange cackling laugh. “Care to show me your catpin?”
I sit in stunned disbelief as Stacy gives me a smug “I gotcha" look.
I could barely speak. “My…cat…pin?”
“Yes, I know all about it.”
“Uh…How…did you…find out?”
“I’ve been thinking about fighting for a year now. One of my coworkers fights. She has a pin. She told me about it. We’ve been working out. She taught me some stuff. Before I left for Texas, I searched the site for fighters in this area. Imagine how shocked I was when you came up. I couldn’t believe it. Aunt Kiva fighting other women. Holy Shit! Then I thought about it, and it kinda made sense. Remember when you babysat me that time when I was ten, and Erica Cooper came over to play and cut her knee? Her mom came over and got in your face. I thought you were gonna slug her. You never did take too kindly to fools.”
“Do your mom and dad know?”
“Nope.”
“Grandmom and Grandpop? Who else knows?
“Just me …. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s really cool you have a catpin, and you fight.”
“Um…look, Stacy. Fighting is something I do on my own time. I’m still a mom and a nurse. My responsibilities come first.”
“Okay, I get it. I really do…In fact, there’s something I need to tell you.”
After the bombshell revelation that she knows about my catpin, what she’s about to tell me must pale in comparison, I thought.
“I have my first fight tomorrow.”
It takes me a while to process what I just heard. “WHAT?!”
“Yeah, I’m fighting another girl. Can you believe it? I want a catpin too. That’s another reason why I came down here to see you. I want you to be at my first fight.”
I sat frozen for several seconds until I could wrap my mind around what Stacy had just told me. “Oh God, Stacy,” I shout. “Of all the crazy…I’m afraid to ask this, but who? Who are you fighting?”
“Advika Pennington. She’s one of the Doshis.”
Again it took me a few moments until I could speak. “Advika? … Did you say you’re fighting Advika?”
“Yeppers,” Stacy says with a grin. “I saw her profile on the website. I recognized her at the health fair, so I walked up to her and challenged her."
“Oh, Stacy,” my exasperated voice belts out. “Of all the dumb things you’ve done this week, this really takes the cake. Advika will destroy you.”
“No, she won’t. She’s only had a few fights. I watched her videos. She’s not very good.”
“She comes from a family of female fighters. I’m sure she trains all the time. Have you ever been in a fight?”
“Twice, but they got broken up quickly. I know how to fight. I’ve been doing jiu-jitsu for a few years, working out with my catpin friend. I know how to fight.”
“Oh, do you? Really? Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into? I’m calling the Doshis. There will be no fight. It’s getting canceled.”
“You are NOT canceling my fight,” Stacy screams at me. "You have no right. I’m an ADULT! I make my own decisions.”
“Seriously, Stacy,” I admonish. “When have you ever faced adversity or taken responsibility for yourself? Are you going to be an adult when you get slapped in the mouth, punched, thrown down, and tied up? When you get dragged around by the hair or grabbed by the boobs? Are you going to handle it, or are you going to run to Aunt Kiva? Are you going to feel like an adult when I have to scrape your broken bawling body off the floor? And what do I tell your parents? I’m responsible for you while your here.”
“You are NOT responsible for me!” she protests. “I told you. I can take care of myself. I can’t believe this! You’re such a hypocrite! … Okay … fine … Fine …Then don’t come. I’ll arrange for a ride and go by myself. I’m sorry I even told you about it. .. I’m going to bed … GOODNIGHT!” she yells as she slams the door to the guest room.
I wake up early the next morning while Stacy is still asleep. As I sip coffee, I try to think of better ways of reasoning with her. At eight o’clock, I put in a call to Doshi Real Estate. A short time later, I receive a return call from Uma, Advika’s mother.
I express my concerns to Uma. I make it clear that Stacy hasn’t fought before and has a propensity for making foolish decisions. Uma is remarkably forthright. She explains that Advika was an enthusiastic fighter who tried to follow her female elders. She had a couple of fights. However, the beating she received from Agnes Stanton at the tree farm left her shaken. That brawl created a rift between Advika and Damini to where they are still not on speaking terms. Advika lost her confidence and announced she was quitting fighting. Then she felt she had let the family down and had second thoughts. When Stacy challenged her in the presence of the other Doshis, Advika felt pressured to accept.
“I think we should let them fight,” Uma suggests. “It seems they both need it. Advika wants to know if she still has a fighter’s heart, and she wants to heal the family. Your niece is very spirited and wants to fight and prove herself. If she loses, it would still be better than if she never took the chance. The fight might be good for both of them.”
Uma’s rationale seemed to make sense. At least she persuaded me to approve the fight, for better or worse. She promised they would stop the fight quickly if Stacy seemed in danger of any injury.
I hand Stacy a mug of coffee as she comes down to the kitchen table. “Good morning, girlfriend,” I smile. “We have a fight to go to today.”
“Really?” her face lights up. “You’re going to be there.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Oh, thank you, Aunt Kiva,” she beams as we hug. “That means so much to me.”
“I’m the cool aunt. Remember?” I smirk back.
Stacy fills me in on the specifics she and Advika agreed upon. A few basic rules: no biting, gauging, etc. The fight will occur in a large empty, carpeted room of one of the Doshi model homes that haven’t been staged yet. I wasn’t thrilled when she said the girls would fight in bikinis, but at least I know only women will be present.
As the morning goes by, I feel the familiar butterflies in my stomach. It’s even worse than my own arranged fights, knowing it’s my niece’s first battle. I try hard to block out negative thoughts and worries. I know Stacy is nervous, so I try to be upbeat and distract her. I brush her wavy, light auburn hair, which she keeps short, stopping just above her shoulders. I offer a few tips, but trying to teach her at this point is like cramming for the SAT exam in one hour.
As she changes into her green bikini, I realize this is the first time I have seen her naked since she was a baby. It was my first babysitting experience. I was fifteen years old. My brother and sister-in-law trusted me. I was scared shitless; I was alone with her. Her skin was so soft and fair; she was so delicate and helpless. My parents would call several times as a backup precaution, but she and I were alone. And I was responsible for her. And now, here we are, alone again. Her skin is still soft and fair. For a brief second, I imagine her as still fragile and totally dependent on me, but I know that's just sentimentality. The tiny naked body I remember from nearly nineteen years ago is now that of a grown woman, complete with the physical sexual characteristics that the universe bestows on adult female humans. I see the 5’7” frame, the mammary tissue on her chest, the pink areolae and nipples, the reddish bush, and the hips, and I am reminded that time and nature wait for no one and couldn’t care less about my emotions and memories.
“Aunt Kiva, you look like you’re zoning out.”
“Sorry, I was just thinking about … something.”
Stacy slips on an oversized T-shirt and gym shorts over her bikini. We pack up the essentials in her gym bag and head out to the car. It’s a twenty-minute drive to the upscale gated community at the address supplied by the Doshis. We come to an enormous 6,000-square-foot, two-story brick house. We pull into the driveway, past the sprawling lawn. I turn off the car engine, but I can’t move. I’m paralyzed with nerves. Stacy unbuckles her seat belt. “Come on, Aunt Kiva, let’s go in.”
We exit the car, I lock it, and we begin the climb up a flight of stone steps to the front door. Suddenly, a thought flashes through my mind, stopping me in my tracks. Was Uma telling the truth about Advika losing her confidence and heart for fighting? Or did the Doshis just bag themselves a fat pigeon?
After I push the doorbell button, the wait seems to take forever, like a rollercoaster ride before the big drop. The door swings open, and we are warmly greeted by Ishita, the matriarch, appearing stunning in her festive red sari. Damini and Uma, dressed in blouses and jeans, stand behind her. Already, I sense the three of them sizing the pair of us up. “Welcome,” Ishita smiles at us. We follow her inside to a large empty living room with an intricately designed brown and white wool carpet. “This is where the fight will take place,” she tells us. “Advika is upstairs preparing herself. I’ll let her know you are here. You may use the guest room over here,” she says, directing us to a first-floor bedroom.
We sit in awkward silence as Stacy strips to her bikini and starts to stretch. We hear the front doorbell ring a few times and the sound of voices. Who is here? I wondered. I struggle to find the right words for Stacy. What do you say to a loved one about to enter her first fight? The truth is that I have no idea how this fight will go. Despite Stacy saying she’s been training and the fact that Advika hasn’t yet had an impressive win, I see Stacy as the underdog, based on sheer inexperience. I try to mentally prepare myself for seeing her defeated. A knot forms in my chest. I hold her hand and tell her that I will be there for her. I tell her it’s okay to quit and avoid injury. I hug her.
Fifteen minutes later, Ishita summons us. As we head to the living room arena, I’m immediately struck by the number of people present: men, women, young, old, all Indian, at least fifteen of them. The older women and some younger ones are adorned with brightly colored saris and bindis, while the others are in regular, western-style casual clothes.
“What’s going on in here?” I demanded to know.
“It’s our extended family, aunts, uncles, cousins,” Uma explained. “They’re visiting from California. We asked Stacy if it was okay for them to watch the fight, and she approved it.”
I glare at Stacy. “Is that true?” I ask her
“I don’t mind,” she answers casually. The fight hasn’t started yet, and she’s already making bad decisions.
From behind us, I hear a man’s voice. “Hey, Stacy.”
“Hi, Travis! I’m glad you could make it.” Stacy chirps.
WHAT? Travis? What the f-.
“Aunt Kiva, this is Travis. He’s my friend. I met him yesterday at the health fair. I invited him to come and watch me fight. He works in the mail room at the hospital.” I turn to see a clean-shaven, thin, brown-haired man around Stacy’s age.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he addresses me politely. “I’m a junior at UT, majoring in Business.”
Okay, I’m getting totally stressed out now. I turn to the college-aged young man. “Look, Travis,” I tell him. “I’m sure you’re a great guy, and I’m sorry you wasted your time coming here, but you see, this is only for families.”
I take Stacy aside and grumble in her ear, “Are you out of your mind? Inviting a strange boy to watch you fight? In a bikini? What is wrong with you?”
Her eyes glare right back. “Travis stays,” she growls. “I’m an adult. I. Make. My. Own. Decisions.”
I feel my throat tightening. “Fine,” My raspy voice manages to get out. I can only hope the consequences of her decisions aren’t too severe.
“You can stay, Travis,” Stacy assures him.
I hear the commotion as all eyes point to the top of the spiral staircase. Advika, in her red bikini, is flanked by Uma as she begins her descent to the arena. The extended Doshi family applauds. She looks graceful as she makes her way to the bottom of the stairs. I give Stacy one last hug before she heads to the center of the living room to meet Advika. The Doshis move into a sitting room area off the main living room, providing an excellent view of the battle. I stand alone on the opposite side … with Travis. I look down at Stacy’s gym bag which is open. I see her bottles of water, towels, hairbrush, shorts, T-shirts, first-aid kit …
“Kiva, this is Stacy’s bottle and formula. The towels are here. This is her baby bath soap. The diapers and wipes are here. These are her pajamas. Do you have any questions?”
“No.”
“The numbers for the police and fire department are on the refrigerator. You’re welcome to the snacks in the kitchen. You have my number. And of course, you can call mom and dad. So, if you’re all set, I guess we’ll be going.”
I hug my brother and sister-in-law and watch them leave the house. Their red taillights disappear down the street. Stacy seems content as she babbles. “It’s you and me, kid,” I tell her. I playfully tickle her as she giggles and tries to grab my fingers. So little. So young. Stacy is my responsibility now. And I’m scared.
Stacy is my responsibility. She looks almost naked in her green bikini as she stands nose-to-nose with Advika. Their sizes are nearly identical at 5’7” and 125 lbs. Advika’s coffee-with-cream skin tone contrasts with Stacy’s fair complexion. Her black hair with light streaks is tied up in a bun, while Stacy’s light auburn hair is pinned back. Both women puff out their B cups, each pair of tits preening in front of the other.
Ishita instructs them to back up several feet. “Stacy, are you ready?”
“I’m ready.”
“Advika, are you ready?” She nods. “Okay, ladies, FIGHT!”
To be continued.
