Chapter 50: A Touch of Envy

April 25, 1984

My girlfriend smiled at me across the lunch table. It was Wednesday, the day of the week when both of us had large gaps in our class schedules in the middle of the day. We had gotten together at our favorite snack bar, and were enjoying a midday meal consisting of the usual nondescript campus chow.

"You seem to be in a good mood today," I said to Inez, with a curious grin of my own.

"Mm-hmm," she mumbled in reply, not giving anything away. But still, the same smile danced on her face, and I got the drift. This was not a normal, everyday smile. This was an I-know-something-you-don't smile.

"Aah, I get it. You have some news you don't want to tell me."

"Don't worry, sweetie," Inez declared. "You'll find out soon enough."

I found out later that same evening.

The phone rang, and I picked it up. It was my brother.

"Hey, Pat," Seamus' voice rang out through the receiver. "You'll never believe what happened. I sure didn't see this coming."

I didn't make the connection right away, and I grew concerned. "What happened?" I blurted out. I had visions of more Heather problems, or a return of Luke the bully. However, it was something completely different.

"Well, Lisette is having a quincy ... a keen-suh ... a keen-say..."

I had to bite down on my lip to keep an audible chuckle from escaping. In Seamus' defense, he was no dummy, and had never had a single Spanish class in his life. To complicate things even further, "quinceañera" was not even something you would likely find on a Spanish 1 vocabulary test. And for a non-speaker of the language? It's one hell of a tongue twister. It was only natural for him to have trouble spitting out the word, so I supplied it for him.

"A quinceañera. Yeah, I heard about that from Inez. It's a celebration of her fifteenth birthday, the second Saturday in June."

"So you know about it. Guess what? Lisette asked me to be her date."

"Her ... date?" I stammered. At that point, I wasn't knowledgeable enough about the quinceañera tradition to know what that entailed, but I knew I'd be calling Inez immediately after this phone call to find out. Seamus proceeded to offer some clarification.

"It's not really a date," he explained. "According to Lisette, all I need to do is be her dance partner – there's a lot of dancing and stuff – and hang out with her and her friends. I'm nervous about the dancing, Pat. I'll probably make an ass of myself."

I recalled my own experience with salsa dancing at the wedding several months ago, and used it as an example to encourage my brother. "Trust me on this, Seamus. As long as you give the dancing a shot – especially the more traditional dances – and show everyone that you're having fun, no one will care how good you are." I went on to tell him how I'd never tried salsa dancing before the wedding, but still made it a point to show a great interest in learning. And before I knew it, I was the most in-demand dance partner in the joint.

"You make it sound easy," remarked my brother, uncertainty evident in his voice.

"It may not be that easy, but it's all in the mind. Try not to worry about it. Just relax and enjoy yourself."

Shortly thereafter, I got off the phone, and called Inez right away. She, of course, knew the full story already, and her reaction was predictable.

"Isn't that just the sweetest thing?" she gushed.

"Yes, it is," I agreed. "But clarify something for me. Seamus has the idea that this is just a friendly thing, not a real date. Is that true?"

"He's right. Lisette told me that she asked him because she trusts him more than any other boy she knows. She knows he'll be on his best behavior, and won't do anything to embarrass her."

I considered that statement, recalled the Seamus of a few years ago, and marveled at just how far he'd come. "It has added meaning when you realize that they've only seen each other face to face on one occasion – at the World Series game last fall. There must be a lot more to those constant phone calls than we know."

"He's made quite an impression on her," Inez related. "I guess it runs in the family."

I had nothing to offer but a gentle laugh, before expressing my brother's biggest concern. "We'll find out if my knack for picking up new dance steps runs in the family. Seamus is really worried about the dancing part, and it sounds like that will be a big part of his role."

"Hmm," said Inez, mulling it over. "We're going down to your place on Sunday, aren't we?"

"I was planning to. With finals coming up, this might be our last chance to get down there for a few weeks."

"Leave it to me, then. I have an idea."

April 29, 1984

Sunday afternoon arrived; Inez and I did in fact head on down to my place. Eileen and Dave came along with us. The four of us were just hanging out in the living room, along with Seamus and my parents. Eventually, the topic of conversation came around to Lisette's big bash. After a little prodding, my brother expressed his trepidation about dancing to all of us. And as promised, Inez had a remedy. Reaching into her purse, grinning softly in my direction as she did so, she produced a couple of cassette tapes.

"I think," she declared, "that it's time for me to play: Dance Instructor!"

I, of course, was clued in to Inez's little undertaking. "Is there a tape recorder around here?" I asked my parents. Dad produced one in short order. I briefly looked the contraption over as I loaded up one of the cassettes. I knew that within five years, these things would be obsolete. Inez motioned my very reluctant brother toward the center of the room. I took note of his unease, and voiced a suggestion.

"Maybe it would be a good idea to do this in private?"

"Definitely," agreed Seamus, inducing giggles from all present.

"I think it's better to practice right here," opined Inez, as she favored Seamus with a sympathetic look. "You'll need to do this in front of a much larger group of people at the party. If you think you might have stage fright, it's the only way to get over it."

"Let's you and I start things off with a demonstration," I said to Inez. She nodded, and I started up the tape. We both moved to the center of the room, and strutted our stuff.

"Where did you get those moves, Patrick?" Dad chuckled at the conclusion.

"I've, um, had a little experience," I demurred with a slight laugh.

"That doesn't look too hard," commented Seamus.

"Okay, then, time to switch partners," Inez grinned, as my brother took my place. I started the tape again. They ran through the same dance three times. Seamus appeared hopelessly awkward at first, but started to catch on during the third attempt.

"Seamus, I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told your big brother at that wedding," Inez said with a smile. "Have you been holding out on us?"

Next, Inez had me fast forward through a couple of songs. "Let's try this one," she finally said to Seamus. "This is a cha-cha number. You'll definitely be doing it at the party."

My brother, at this point, actually started to get into it a little. Mom was smiling broadly, as was Dad. Even Dave wore a grin. Eileen, however, was conspicuously sporting a look that could only be described as sour. I directed a glance at Inez; her concerned expression let me know that she saw it too. I then turned to Dave, who shot me a look that said, "I'll talk with her later."

The lesson went on for more than a half hour. The final number was a waltz; Inez explained that it would be the most important dance of all. At that point, Seamus was picking everything up in no time.

"You're a wonderful dance instructor, Inez," Mom remarked admiringly.

"Thank you," smiled my ever-modest girlfriend. "Remember, I've been through this before. Plus, dancing is a required activity at just about every single family gathering we have."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eileen roll her eyes at that exchange. The dance lesson ended; Eileen and Dave at once headed off into the family room. I motioned for Inez to accompany me; I wanted to make a quick run to the mall.

As soon as we got into the car, I stated the obvious. "Looks like Eileen is jealous of you."

"She felt like I was taking over her big sister role," Inez observed, her voice conveying a degree of sadness.

"But that's crazy. Who better than you to teach Seamus the dances he needs to learn?"

"It's not crazy," corrected my girlfriend. "It's quite understandable. We need to be careful here."

Further evidence to support that point came later in the afternoon. The drive back to the university, with the four of us once again packed into my car, was uncomfortably quiet. I knew I needed to talk privately to my sister, but I wanted to touch base with Dave first. I waited a couple of hours, and then gave him a call.

"Yeah, what happened today made her feel jealous," Dave confirmed, "but it's more than that. Your parents have really gotten to like Inez, and Eileen feels threatened by that."

"Oh shit," I said, realizing it was worse than I thought. "I need to talk to her. I –"

"Dude," Dave cut in, "talk to her tomorrow. She's already asleep. I couldn't get through to her, not at all. Maybe she'll feel better after she sleeps on it."

As tempting as it was to ignore his advice and call my sister – even waking her up if I had to – I finally elected to let it go until the next day.

April 30, 1984

"It was nothing," said a much more chipper-sounding Eileen the next afternoon, over the phone. "I just had a touch of a headache."

I wasn't buying it. "Eileen –" I began, before she interrupted me.

"My voice recital was re-scheduled for next Saturday afternoon," she said, abruptly changing the subject. "We're doing a show in the evening, so there's no conflict. Can you come? And how about Inez?"

Her inclusion of Inez in the invitation served to lessen my concerns considerably. Since Eileen had declared herself a Music Ed major, with a concentration in Voice, she was required to perform once a semester at an afternoon recital conducted by the music department. During the first semester, she'd been exempted from this requirement, so this would be her first recital. It had originally been scheduled for two weeks ago, but a power failure had caused it to be postponed. As a result, it was now being held at a curious point in the semester ... the Saturday before the start of final exams.

"I'm there, Eileen. Why don't you call Inez yourself and ask her?"

"I'll do that right now."

Later that evening, I was over at Inez's apartment; Evie was there too. The three of us were crowded around the dinner table, enjoying a pasta dish which Evie had cooked up. The conversation quickly came around to Eileen, and her behavior during Seamus' dance lesson.

"There's no question she was upset," Inez declared. "But maybe she thought about it a little, and realized she didn't have to feel that way."

"Did she talk about it when she invited you to her recital?" I wondered.

"Not at all. She sounded like her usual self. She's excited about the recital. Actually, I'm kind of envious of her. I've never gotten to do something like that." Inez flashed her trademark radiant smile.

"My big worry," chimed in Evie, "is that her jealousy will rear its head again when you least expect it. Yes, she's fine now. But I have a feeling she's only suppressing it."

May 3, 1984

"I may have a problem making Eileen's recital on Saturday," Inez told me over lunch on Thursday at our regular campus snack bar. "Something just came up."

"Oh no," I said uneasily. "What happened?"

"A distant relative of mine passed away yesterday. I never even knew her, nor her family. She was my uncle's cousin. And you know how Tio Raul is about family matters. He dropped a very strong hint that he expects me to attend the funeral, which is at eleven o'clock on Saturday. I don't think I'll be able to be back in time for the recital at one. It's at least a thirty-minute drive."

I let out a deep breath, my level of concern increasing. I understood the dynamics of Inez's family, but I wasn't sure that Eileen did. "You have to do what you have to do, angel. Eileen will have to understand."

"Tell you what. I'll talk to my uncle about it, and see if I can get him to reconsider. Like I said, I didn't even know the woman who passed. I'd much rather go to Eileen's recital."