The proposal

2 years later…

Matthew Jones

I never thought I would say this, but I hate cats.

My upstairs apartment neighbor has not just one, but three cats. And the animals decided to have a party in the early hours of the morning while he was enjoying his evening. The worst thing is that I can't even complain to him, because I still don't know how to swear very well in French. But he should be careful, because when I learn…

After so much fighting, where I kept turning from one side to the other, trying to disconnect myself from all the possible objects that the felines would be breaking, I ended up falling asleep due to fatigue. I have no idea what time it was, but it must have been almost daybreak when I closed my eyes.

I started to feel my body being stirred on the mattress and, since I live alone, I opened my eyes and was in a state of alertness until I saw three figures standing in front of my bed. I strained my eyes, trying to get used to the brightness and saw Molly, who was at the foot of my bed, picking at her fingernails. Beside her was Scott and when I looked away, I noticed Kaleb's red hair.

I blinked a few times, trying to get my head on straight. Am I dreaming?

“What are you guys doing here?” I narrowed my eyes.

“I told him he had forgotten.” Molly sighed.

“Have you forgotten that we agreed to spend a few days with you?” Kaleb frowned.

It took a few minutes, but when I finally regained consciousness, I remembered the arrangement from two months ago when, in a video call, we had arranged to spend the year-end vacations together.

“And how did you get in if you don't have a key?” I raised my eyebrows.

“No matter where you are and no matter how much time passes.” Molly laughed nasally, holding up the small silver key in her fingers. “Your spare key is always under the plant pot.”

I ended up snorting at this. I guess I'll have to find another hiding place for it. I settled back on the bed, pulling the quilt over my head, determined to get some more sleep.

“What do you think you're doing?” Scott growled. “I'm hungry!”

“There are some bread rolls left over from yesterday's breakfast in the fridge.” I mumbled and closed my eyes, feeling my whole body relax.

“We're in France.” Scott stated the obvious. “Do you really expect me to eat any old stale bread?”

“It's too early.” I grumbled.

“Well, that's not what a certain “Grumpy Old Man” thinks.” As soon as Molly said this, I hurriedly sat up in bed and saw that she was looking at my cell phone screen. “He has called you about five times since we walked in.”

“Oh, shit!” I jumped out of bed and ran my hand over the shirt that was on the floor, putting it on as I headed to the bathroom to wash my face.

“No need to thank us for waking you up.” Scott warned. “Just taking us out to eat is good enough.”

I rolled my eyes at the comment, and after drying my face, I hurried into the living room to put on my sneakers. I had completely forgotten that I had promised Rafael Santiago – affectionately nicknamed Old Grumpy – that I would meet him to get to know the space where we would perform next month.

I confess that I am very excited about this, because it will be our first performance in such a large venue. Of course, there will be other people to perform as well, after all it is an open event for everyone, but it is exciting nonetheless.

I sent a message to Rafael, telling him to wait five more minutes because I was already on my way, and then I simply went off in the direction of the dance company. Molly, Scott and Kaleb came after me, but I didn't play tour guide, because I had no time for that now.

After a few minutes of walking, I noticed that there was a cafeteria from which I had already had the pleasure of tasting the food there, so I stopped walking and turned toward the jerks who were walking behind me. They were staring at some picture on Kaleb's cell phone.

“Here's the thing: I need to go somewhere nearby.” I warned. “This coffee shop is divine. Sit your asses down and wait for me. I won't be long.”

“Know that we won't wait for you to eat.” Scott said, already hurrying toward one of the tables. I rolled my eyes and went on my way.

The Dance Company was right next to the cafeteria. Literally, turning right, you could already see the big staircase there. It was a large, park-like place, which even had a large fountain in the center, surrounded by children. The facade of the place was all made of stone, with tall columns and long windows, in a Greek style. I retraced my steps, and from a distance I saw Raphael's fluorescent orange pants. I rolled my eyes and walked closer. He and this mania of wearing at least one flashy thing.

“Sorry for the delay.” I said, as soon as I stopped beside him. “I had a setback.” I gave him a wry smile. He just stared at me boredly and walked toward the big dark wooden door.

There was a tall boy with long blond hair standing in front of the door, holding a clipboard in his hands. We approached him, and as soon as he noticed our presence, he smiled broadly.

“Rafael!” He stared at the walking marker next to me. “It took a while… I thought you would never come.”

“This one came by donkey.” He pointed at me. The blond guy stared at me and then laughed.

“Please, come with me.” The boy turned his back to us, and walked into the place. We followed.

We walked down a long corridor with a red carpet, and I noticed that there were some framed paintings hanging on the wall. The place smelled like a museum, but I chose not to make the comment. I was so busy looking around that I almost ran over the two of them, who suddenly stopped.

“Come in and make yourselves comfortable.” He pointed to the room. “The principal is finishing a meeting and will see you in a moment.” I said simply.

Rafael thanked me and entered the room. I watched him settle down on the black leather couch and immediately felt a shiver run down my spine. This guy will be whispering in my ear until tomorrow, just for being late. If he already does that in rehearsals! I took a deep breath, feeling shivery just thinking about it, and before the blonde could move away to go back to the entrance, I invented the biggest and best escape:

“Where is the bathroom?” I asked. I felt the back of my neck burn, and I guessed it was Rafael's deadly stare at me, but I ignored it.

“At the end of this corridor, on the right.” The boy instructed.

“Thank you.” I thanked him and headed for it, leaving no room for objections.

Before I turned right, following the blond boy's instructions at the entrance, I looked back to see if Rafael was marching towards me. Luckily, he wasn't, so I breathed a sigh of relief, put my hands in the pockets of my sweatpants, and continued on my way. Anything – including facing all these paintings on the walls – was better than listening to Raphael's sermons. Seriously, what is the need for all this hanging? Imagine the work to clean up afterwards!

When I reached the middle of that corridor, something caught my attention. It was a wooden cabinet, in a reddish-brown tone, that had several shelves with a lot of trophies and medals for dance honors, all first and second place. I couldn't help but be surprised, so I looked at each one to find out more about where they were from. I ended up becoming interested in one in particular.

“Fall Championship, Sydney, 1970.” Someone said behind me, so I turned around. “I thought I was hallucinating, but look! It's really you.” I narrowed my eyes, trying to see the face of the person, and when I recognized him, it was impossible not to be surprised.

“Oliver Smith?” I asked in disbelief, walking towards him. “It's been a long time!” We greeted each other with a quick hug.

“I can't believe I'm seeing you, my little friend.” Oliver rubbed his hands on my arms, after we broke away from the hug.

Even before my sister died, when I was still in Minnesota and started to take a firm interest in dance, I bumped into Oliver in the middle of a dance competition. At the time he was just a teacher's aide, who, seeing me making a mistake on one of the dance steps, decided to help me.

It was a memorable day, because I won that championship, so I spent long days of my life training with Oliver, until he got a promotion and had to move away. The same day, Oliver left Minnesota to go back to London, his hometown, was the day I met the boys. I even kept in touch with Oliver for a while and went to his wedding, but we never saw each other again.

“I can't believe it.” I laughed nasally. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in London.” I frowned and Oliver chuckled.

“Welcome to the Oliver Smith Dance Company.” He opened his arms with a wide smile on his face.

“You have a dance company named after you!” I rolled my eyes. “That's amazing.” I looked around.

“Did you like it?” Oliver arched his eyebrows suggestively.

“It looks like a museum with so many paintings on the wall, but for someone in his late sixties, it fits.” I shrugged.

“I was 59, okay, smart guy?” He narrowed his eyes, making me laugh out loud. Oliver rolled his eyes and started walking down the hall. “About the decorations, I didn't choose them myself, so I'm on the same page as you. I would have set them on fire by now.” He sighed.

I don't judge, because I would do the same.

Oliver walked into a room and I followed. As I said, a tour around here will be much more interesting than staring at the walls of the waiting room, while Rafael lectures me. As soon as I stepped through the door, I was surprised by the things that were there.

“You have an ice cream machine in your living room!” I rolled my eyes. Oliver closed the door and stared at me.

“I'm in charge here, I can do anything.” He let out a hearty laugh.

“This is amazing!” I stared at the machine, excited.

“Vanilla or chocolate?” he asked, smiling.

“Mixed.” I said with conviction, and Oliver laughed, walking to the machine to prepare the ice cream cone.

“But, what about you?” He asked. “What are you doing here?” He held out the ice cream to me and wiped his hands on a napkin.

“I joined a dance institution two years ago and in celebration of graduation, my class decided to participate in the event. Sometimes opportunities and invitations to companies arise like this.” I commented, then savored the ice cream. “Wow, this is divine!” I exclaimed. My stomach rumbled as soon as it started to eat.

“That's great!” He nodded. “Are you with those friends of yours?”

“Oh, no.” I denied it, knowing that he meant the guys at Rachel's, since when I went to his wedding I told him what I was doing with my life. “Three of them are in a coffee shop nearby. They came to visit me. But the rest just moved on.” I shrugged.

“Was there a difference of opinion?” He raised his eyebrow, sitting down on the leather chair. I took the opportunity to sit in the chair facing his.

“Not really, no.” I shook my head negatively. “In the beginning it was just a hobby, but afterwards we just wanted to save a lot of money from the competitions so that we could be able to follow our own paths. We each kind of had a different vision for the future.”

“Oh, I see.” He nodded. “That's the way it is.”

“At least we keep in touch.” I shrugged. “Like I said, three of them forcibly dragged me out of bed.” I rolled my eyes as I remembered the episode from earlier. “I like them, though. They're nice…”

“And the crushes?” Oliver arched his eyebrows suggestively. I stared at him for a while, reflectively, and then looked back down at my hands. “I can see that someone has taken over this little heart, can't you?”

“It's more complicated than you might imagine.” I said with a sigh.

All I wanted most of all was for Anastasia to be here, with me. I think every night about our possible reunion, fantasizing as if it will happen in the very near future. Unfortunately, fate has been very unfair to me…

“In any case, everything will work out. I am sure.” Oliver opened a wide, reassuring smile.

“I hope so.” I murmured.

“You know, I was just thinking…” He frowned, thoughtfully. “You said you will graduate at the end of the year, right?”

“Yeah.” I agreed.

“What do you think about taking on a dance class in my company?” He suggested, and I couldn't help but be amazed.

“Me?” I raised my eyebrow. “I don't know if I'm good at that.” I shook my head negatively.

“Don't worry, you wouldn't be alone.” He smiled, leafing through a black folder on his desk. “I have already researched possible candidates and created a list.” He opened it to a random page and turned the folder over to me. “I thought I could go through it and maybe choose someone who…”

I simply stopped paying attention to what he was saying as soon as a picture caught my attention. I had to blink a few times and even strain my eyes to make sure that I was seeing consistently.

Well, if I have ever spoken ill of fate, I take it all back right now.

“I don't need to choose anyone.” I fired off. “I want her.” I pointed to the 3×4 photo of the girl with brown hair and slightly flushed cheeks.

“Are you sure?” He frowned. “There are other options. Options even more similar to your style.” He looked at me with a certain concern. “This girl does classical ballet at…”

“Bolshoi.” I completed. “Bolshoi Dance Academy in New York. Yes, I know.” I nodded. “I want her.” I said firmly. Oliver narrowed his eyes at me and analyzed my face for a while.

“Why do I feel that there is something I don't know about this story?” He gave me a mischievous smile, making my lips moisten.

I was already beginning to disbelieve that fate was really on my side, because since I had set foot in France, a lot of things had begun to go wrong. Including my neighbor in the upstairs apartment, who used to be a little lady, who died a week before I set foot there. If that hadn't happened, that unfortunate cat would not have bought the apartment.

Perhaps when I learn French to the point of near fluency, I will tell him some haunted story and force a barrage by claiming that the little lady who lived there used to visit the apartment every night. That's why the cats get so nervous, because they can see her. I don't know. Anything to get that guy out of there.

The point is that fate saw the opportunity and decided to act. I didn't expect it to be that “fast”, but okay.

“Honestly, there's a lot you don't know.” I laughed nasally and stared at the letter “A” that I had tattooed on my wrist last month. “Could we go out to eat sometime?” I narrowed my eyes, staring at the black folder on the table. “I have a proposal.”