Usher of Love

Personal Yummy #74

One night after a Pirates game at vibrant Three Rivers Stadium, he walks through the door in a new ball cap and a shiny, bright-yellow jacket that reaches down to his knees, with large, enticing pockets. He smiles at me, reaches into his right-hand pocket, and takes out an extremely dense, inviting roll of bills. He then holds the money up in front of my face and fans through it with his thumb, like it’s a deck of cards. I see ones, fives, tens, and even a few twenties flashing before my eyes.

“Look at the night I had!” he utters proudly, his tanned skin glowing.

******

Anil, my CMU Ballroom Dance Club partner, receives free tickets to a Pirates game. I tell Tommy that I’m going to be at the game and will look for him.

“Look for me?” he asks, surprised. “Come to my section and, if I’m able to, I’ll fix you two right up.”

Boy, he isn’t kidding. When he spots me quite a few rows above him, as I’m looking around, a bit bewildered, he quickly heads my way, up the wide, concrete steps. I hand him our tickets (which are for about three levels higher, as far as I can tell). But he glances at them, squeezes my hand discreetly, and whispers in my ear, “You two just wait here for a second, but keep your eyes on me.”

So we do. And he walks down the steps as if he owns the entire stadium, including the people in it, and he surveys his section—with such an air of professionalism, and seriousness, that I begin to wonder if it is really him, if a Tommy look-alike hasn’t taken his place. But soon, the familiar, happy smile is there again, as he turns around and signals to us with his eyes, his hand placed firmly on the back of one of the seats he has chosen, just a few rows from the field—and directly behind home plate.

“Thanks, Tommy!” I say, intensely but softly, once we reach him, and as he passes the ticket stubs into my hand. “This is so great!”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he replies. “I hope you two really enjoy the game.”

With seats like these, how could we not? Just to be able to see the players’ expressions so clearly, to feel the speed and the accuracy with which the ball is thrown and hit, to witness the way the athletes move so freely in their bodies—it doesn’t matter who wins.

******

As part of a Latin festival, and as members of Pittsburgh’s Latin American Cultural Union, my friend Mariano and I have been invited to perform a short salsa routine. But it isn’t going to be just any salsa routine performed just anywhere. We are going to dance between innings at a Pirates game, on top of one of the dugouts!

“Guess what, Tommy?” I ask him one day as he’s leaning against the bar, sipping a Pepsi.

“What’s that, honey?” he responds, giving me his complete attention.

So I tell him all about the upcoming event, my hands flying everywhere, and he says that he’s scheduled to work that night and will keep an eye out for me, giving me a general idea of what section he’ll most likely be in.

“And I’m so glad I’m finally getting the chance to see you perform,” he adds, winking and kissing me affectionately on the cheek.

******

For the next few weeks, Mariano and I practice hard, dancing the routine countless times in his living room, mercilessly wearing down the carpet. And then after each rehearsal, over beer and hot wings, we imagine how exciting it will all be, discuss just what we will wear, and feel so fortunate to have such a unique opportunity.

Therefore, when the big day arrives—a sunny, warm, beautiful day—we are ready, Mariano dressed in slim, black slacks; a black, collared, silk shirt; and black Cuban shoes; and me in a short, colorful, flowery dress with a flared skirt, a black cotton sash tied in a knot around my waist, and black character shoes, the choreography fresh and imprinted on our minds.

Waiting behind the scenes, going over the steps again and again (just to be sure!), it seems to take forever, but eventually the third out—of the bottom of the fourth inning, to be exact—is called, and we jog down the steps toward the field and wait for our cue.

“Please welcome Pittsburgh’s one-and-only Latin American Cultural Union giving us some salsa!!!” the announcer booms over the loudspeakers. With our adrenaline and excitement in full force, we run onto the home dugout through a small gate in the iron fence that separates the first row of seats from the field, as Marlon and Nancy (two more members of our group) do the same on the opposite side of the stadium.

The music starts, with its varying rhythms and syncopation, and our feet begin to move. Unfortunately, we don’t have much room (the edge is right there!), but somehow we don’t have to try even a little bit to remember the choreography—it just appears on our bodies.

And really, it’s no wonder I like to dance so much: Performing in front of all these people and being in the midst of all the bursting energy that ball games are so good for—I don’t think I could feel much better.

After the performance, however, Mariano and I are walking around the inner perimeter of the stadium, past all the food and souvenir stands—trying to calm down and catch our breath a bit, excitedly talking about what we just experienced—when I notice Tommy to my right, standing at the top of one of the sloping entrances to the stadium, looking around expectantly.

“Tommy!” I yell.

Almost as if on cue, his face lights up and he opens his arms wide.

Without a moment’s thought, I run toward him and fall into his hug—his warm, welcoming, and soft hug.

“It’s so good to see you—did you see us dance?” I ask.

“I sure did… That was wonderful! You were even up on the big screen for a few seconds! And what an amazing dancer you are!”

“Oh, I’m so glad you didn’t miss it, Tommy!” I reply.

“Miss it? Now why would I ever do that…” he says, smiling and giving me another big hug.

Tommy has proved me wrong.

******

The above excerpt is from my coming-of-age novel—The Grill on Murray Avenue: A Story of Innocence—about the inhabitants of an unassuming bar-and-grill in Squirrel Hill, a vibrant neighborhood in the east end of Pittsburgh. The story is told by Jenna, a young waitress who dreams of becoming a professional dancer.