Free Dancing Lessons by R. Cooper Page B

apprehension.
    The entire family was full of mind readers. Chico dropped his gaze to the tutu and kept it there for the rest of the afternoon.
     
     
    FIXING SEAMS, tutting over what had once been some gorgeous beadwork, and blushing when Rafael glanced at him occupied his time for two more afternoons. The rest of the volunteer seamstresses came and went, mostly, he was guessing, fixing their own kids’ costumes first before they would start on the rest. He was surprisingly chill with that. He was the single gay loser with no life to get back to, so he could set up outside the practice hall and rip out crappy stitches to his heart’s content without worrying about getting home in time for dinner.
    When he did go home, his back ached and his fingers stung with pinpricks like he’d been sewing stinging nettles, but he noticed with clear, wide-awake attention that he still hadn’t gotten around to curtains. He could sew them as well as buy them, if he found fabric he liked.
    The thought was an idle one. Brandywine had no fabric store, only a cramped place that sold yarn. Which was just as well, since a cursory look through his remaining boxes showed his sewing machine and thread were likely boxed up at his parents’.
    But Davi had assured him that the apartment would heat up during the days in the summer and be cold in the winter, so he ought to get some curtains. With that in mind, he made a special trip to Brandywine’s hardware store to buy the cheapest curtain rods he could find. Davi already gave him a lot for free; Chico could leave his place with some nice window treatments.
    The purchase was oddly uplifting. Chico didn’t have his sewing equipment, or even fabric, but he’d taken a step. Davi was going to be so pleased. Though Davi was going to want to be the one to hang them. He’d probably bring out an automatic drill or something.
    Inspired by his success, Chico hesitated and, instead of immediately driving back out of town, walked down to one of the restaurants he hadn’t been to yet. He had no desire to take any pictures of his food or let anyone know where he was going. All he really wanted, he realized, was a sandwich. Maybe some fries.
    He never finished an order of fries. He didn’t know why, because he loved them. It was one of the nice things about being in a relationship, having someone to share his french fries. He missed that, although it was no reason to go without food. Ice cream and frozen dinners every night was kind of ridiculous. Especially when he could have been treating himself to something he actually had an appetite for.
    Eating in public was another matter. He had a feeling his energy was going to leave him about halfway through dinner, so he didn’t risk it. He stared at the menu and ordered a club sandwich with fries, to go, and wandered around the restaurant’s lobby while he waited.
    The restaurant was the kind of place that served basic, standard fare and had a waiting area with gumball machines next to a potted plant and a board full of business cards and fliers for local events. Chico tucked a paper copy of the menu into a pocket, to put on his fridge like a proper single person, as he meandered—casually—toward the board.
    Mostly it was what he expected: teens looking for summer jobs as pet sitters or babysitters or amateur gardeners, something for AA meetings the next town over, a card for a church rummage sale. The poster for the area’s Pride celebration surprised him, since Davi hadn’t mentioned that.
    In town, the senior center needed visitors, which was one of those things that made Chico’s eyes sting. His family was so big it was hard to imagine someone without any family who cared. Even Davi still had Chico’s parents to look out for him while his own were being stubborn assholes.
    He moved on to study a poster for Movies Among the Trees, a summer film series in the clearing at the north end of town where people apparently picnicked on the ground outside and