Julio and the Secret Handshake

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“I’m nervous,” Andrey says.

This is how he greets me moments before our first class with Julio and Corina.

“No,” I remind him. “We are ready. Remember? You said it last Sunday. You said ‘We are ready!’”

He shrugs.

He leaves me no choice. I’ll have to be the confident one tonight.

* * *

Each of The Five has a reassuring move they make whenever I misstep badly. One moves his hand to my tense shoulder blades, which is cozy and much better than being ordered to “relax!” One says the F-word, to make me laugh. One holds me more securely because he knows my balance is the first thing to go. Glenlivet sails on, steady and calm; I think leads a step that gets me back on track, but he is so smooth I can’t be sure.

Andrey murmurs “Don’t worry” in a lighthearted voice. This disarms me.

Wednesday night, driving to the first lesson with Julio and Corina, I make a plan. Before the class begins, Andrey and I will tell each other, “Don’t worry.”

We will say it in just that lighthearted tone. It will be our secret handshake.

We don’t really need it. We are not worried. Andrey said it last Sunday: We are ready.

But now as class begins, Andrey says, "I'm nervous."

“Don’t worry,” I murmur.

* * *

"Dance!” Julio says.

Andrey squares his shoulders, looks right past me, over my shoulder. No grin. No secret handshake.

We walk around the floor. Julio stands in a corner, sizing up couples as they go by.

Andrey is a lead of great fortitude. His palm is damp, but he is walking right through me.

It’s quite lovely, actually. I forget we are being watched, close my eyes and enjoy the movement, until a murmur touches the edge of my reverie.

“Yes. Sir. Yes.”

Andrey does not respond. When the dance is over, I say, “Did you hear Julio when we danced by him? He said you’re doing well.”

“He was talking to us?” Andrey asks.

I am not sure. Grisha and Nina are dancing beside us. Perhaps that yes-ing was for Grisha, but I doubt it. He hardly needs to be told he can walk. And, anyway, does it matter? At this moment, Andrey needs the compliment more than Grisha does.

“He was talking to you,” I say.

* * *

By the end of the first class, Andrey has racked up four or five nods from Julio and Corina.

But now we are in the second class of the night. It’s a milonga class, and Julio and Corina have just demonstrated a tricky step that builds on a previous step that Andrey and I have not mastered.

Andrey is looking preoccupied and worried. He often looks like this when he is learning. One of the best things about learning with Andrey is watching the uncertainty morph into a grin when he gets the step right.

But he hasn’t got it right yet.

“Do it!” Julio shouts. As he brushes past us to turn on the music, he sees Andrey’s worried expression, says in a low, lighthearted voice:

“Don’t worry!”