The Oracle Rebounds (11 page)

“I want to support your business. Also, I have a favor to ask you.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

“I want to be a ‘viable option,’ as you wrote in that blog. There is a girl, a beautiful girl named Rose, in my ballroom dancing class.”

“Ballroom dancing, huh?” I grin. “That’s fun.”

“It was your idea, Miss Oracle. You said I must join a class in something that I enjoy. Back in Bulgaria, many of us studied ballroom as children. Men do not appear as interested in it over here, but that could work to my advantage. I have always enjoyed dancing. And when I entered the class, there was my lovely Rose.”

“Tell me about her.”

“She’s pretty and kind—most good adjectives you can think of would apply. She is quite shy, but when she dances, she is glorious. We dance together at every class. I think she likes me well enough. But she might just see me as a friend. That’s why I need you to help me.”

“What can I do?”

“You can come to the class with me. We were all given a free guest pass in case we’d like to bring a friend. You will give me status.”

Status? I never thought of myself as potentially giving someone status, but I can see what he means. I’m mainstream-looking and fashionable enough. Evgeney’s a bit more on the unusual side. If I show up to class with him and we’re obviously friends, that could make him a viable option for Rose.

“I’m hoping that you will raise my market value.”

Wow, he really does study my website.

“I’ll do it. When’s the class? I work three shifts a week.”

“Wednesday nights. We can start next week, not tonight. You have other things to deal with right now—like defending your reputation.”

When I get home from school, I see that the traffic on my website has shot to crazy numbers. Unfortunately, most of the people are haters, judging by the emails I’m getting. Well, haters or not, I’ve decided how I’m going to respond.

One statement and that’s it, I tell myself. I’ll post it on my website and on teenmoi, then I’ll put this behind me.

The Oracle’s Reply

I would like to start off by thanking Brandy for the opportunity to visit her dynamic website. I was given a challenging question and I answered it as best I could, drawing on my experience and intuition. It may not be a perfect answer, but I’m not ashamed of it.

I find it unfortunate that some people have misconstrued my words in order to make me seem homophobic, sexist and everything else. Have you noticed that you don’t all agree on what my views really are? In light of that, don’t you think you should reexamine what I was trying to say?

The Oracle believes in gay rights, so those of you who don’t can still hate me. For those of you who think I am anti-gay, please reread the previous sentence. If you have suggestions as to how I could have replied better to Disoriented’s question, please post them.

I can’t address every criticism that has been thrown at me. That would take a long time and many people would want to continue to argue. It is time for the haters to calm down. If my words have offended you on a regular basis, you should not continue to visit my website. If my words offended you only in this one post, I hope that you will reconsider your assessment of me. But it’s up to you.

That’s all I have to say on this matter, for now and forever.

Peace,

The Oracle of Dating

When I finish the statement, I skim it for mistakes, then post it. I hope that people will take a chill pill so that I can get back to the important work of giving dating advice. It’s scary putting the statement out there, knowing full well that some
of the haters will trash it. But Evgeney was right; it’s about me, not about them. It’s about standing up for myself and not staying silent in the face of attack. And hopefully, within a short time, this will all be just a bad memory.

51 Days into Rebound Equation

I’m not so lucky. Days go by, and teenmoi and her readers are still having a field day with me.

What could I have done to create this type of karma? Did I knock down an old lady while hurrying across the street? Or give a customer the wrong change?

I have Brandy to thank because she keeps blogging about my site and how awful it is. She even lifts quotes from it, taking them totally out of context. I wonder if that’s legal. As I anticipated, she tried to cut down my reply but did a terrible job of it—Viv and Evgeney agree with me on that one.

I keep blogging as the Oracle, wanting to show anyone who visits my site that I’m moving forward and that I won’t be addressing the issue again. In a moment of weakness, I create a Google Alert for “Oracle of Dating.” To my shock, I see that a few other bloggers are now having discussions about my site. Though none of them are as nasty as teenmoi, a few of them obviously enjoy poking fun at my advice. A couple of brave
souls dare to defend me and even compliment me, including chicgal, who I guest-blogged for a few weeks ago. Chicgal is a class act and I email her to let her know how much I appreciate her support.

When I receive my midterm grades from my teachers, I’m depressed again. My grades have slipped this semester, which most of my teachers are eager to point out, as if I’ve disappointed them more than myself. My friends tell me not to beat myself up about it because heartbreak isn’t conducive to studying. That may be true for the first few weeks, but after that, instead of turning back to my schoolwork, I chose to focus on the Oracle’s blog tour. And look where that got me.

I have no choice now but to get my butt in gear. Instead of hurrying home from school to be the Oracle, I’ve got to be the student for a change. I decide I’ll stay late at the library when I don’t go to Eddie’s. And since I have a history paper due next week, I’ve got my work cut out for me.

When I get home around supper time Monday night, I find Mom and Erland sitting on the couch. His arm is around her, and he seems to be trying to comfort her.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Mom looks a little traumatized. “I made a very bad mistake.”

My mind reels with possibilities. Did she hit someone with the car? Forget to show up at a wedding?

“What is it?”

“I…” Mom starts speaking, then shakes her head like she doesn’t want to believe it.

“Your mother gave the last rites to the wrong woman,” Erland explains.

“Alice Smith,” Mom says. “How many Alice Smiths can there be in one hospital?”

Erland squeezes her. “It’s not your fault, dear. You had no way of knowing it was the wrong woman.”

“Well, she did tell me that her cancer was in remission, but I thought she was just being positive. So I told her about eternal life. Once I left I heard a crashing sound. Apparently she threw a vase of flowers across the room. She thought her family had lied to her about going into remission.”

“Yikes.” I bite my lip, and I realize I’m trying not to laugh. It’s really not funny at all to think that an old lady, having just battled cancer, had been given the last rites by accident. Not funny at all.

“I should have warned you that there is a negative astrological transit right now,” Erland says. “Jupiter is square Mars, which is a time of hardship and confusion.”

“I could’ve told you that,” I say, thinking of all the mess-ups in my life and my friends’ lives lately. “Try not to worry about it, Mom. It could’ve happened to anyone. You’re the best minister ever.”

“Thanks, sweetie.”

I go over and give her a kiss. Then I catch sight of Erland, whose face is rather pink. He’s trying not to laugh, too.

Tuesday after school I stay in the library until five to five, when the librarian flickers the lights to let us know that he’s ready to lock up. I’m packing up my books when I hear my name.

Jared has emerged from the back, where the study carrels are, and is looking at me with a startled expression. I know I don’t often stay after school, but I don’t see why he looks
that
surprised.

We walk out together, pushing the heavy doors and entering the deserted hallway. I see he’s got a big black sketchbook under his arm. “Still working on the portfolio?”

“Yeah, I’m applying for scholarships at a couple more places, so I’m redoing my whole portfolio.”

“The whole thing? But it was amazing.”

“Thanks, but it wasn’t enough to get me where I want to be. Anyway, these new drawings will be a lot more polished.”

He’s got a determined look in his eyes, as if failure is not an option. The Jared I’m used to is more laid-back than that, but I know he feels there’s a lot at stake here. His dream is at stake. I can relate to that.

“Are you heading to the subway?” he asks. “We can walk together, if you’re cool with that.”

“Of course I am. I’m cool with you, Jared. You got that email I wrote you a couple of weeks ago, right?”

“I did.” His eyes dart away, in the direction of his locker. “I just need to grab a couple of things.”

“Me, too.”

We get our stuff and head out the side doors. The sky has mostly cleared up after some earlier rain, and the late-day sun peeks out from behind the clouds. It’s May, finally, and warm enough that I don’t need my hoodie.

Something about Jared seems stiff, awkward, and so I start blabbering about random stuff to kill the silence. At one point he looks at me and says, “Your email sounded like a goodbye. Like you didn’t want to talk to me again.”

“I wasn’t saying that. But I didn’t hear from you for ages, and then suddenly you wanted to see if I was okay.”

He rakes a hand through his dark curls. “I never meant to come across that way.”

“You said yourself that you didn’t think we could be friends.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I want to be friends with you, I always have, I just never knew how. I know I screwed up royally.”

“I won’t deny you screwed up. But I think I can be friends with you now.”

I know that “being friends” doesn’t mean we’ll be hanging out like we used to or calling each other often. When people do that, it becomes even harder for them to move on. I’ve had countless clients who claim to be good friends with their exes, and it usually ends up with one of them still pining for the other. As for Jared and me, I think we’re saying we want to be friendly, and we don’t want to avoid each other anymore.

“I know you’ve moved on, Kayla. I hope everything’s going good for you.”

“It is. I’m not still in touch with Benoit, but it was fun while it lasted. And the possibilities are out there if you know where to look.”

“I’m not concerned for you. You can have any guy you want.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I know, but it’s true.”

“Thanks, I guess.” I smile, and he smiles back, and I feel the zing that was always there between us. That zing is the reason we can’t ever be close friends again. Jared knows it, too.

“I’ve wanted to contact you lately,” he says. “I saw what’s been happening with that trashy teenmoi site. Those people are being really unfair to you.”

“They’re doing a pretty good job of destroying my reputation.”

“Actually, they’re not. They’re making themselves look like idiots. You refused to stoop to their level. You’ve come across as classy all the way. Anyone with a brain is going to see that.”

“Thanks. It’s funny…when this happened I wanted to talk to you about it. You always had this way of calming me down and making me feel better about things.”

“I wish you had come to me.” He glances my way. “I’ve wanted to talk to you, too.” He takes a breath as if he’s going to say something else, but he seems to think better of it.

Suddenly the air is feeling heavy. I give an uncomfortable laugh. “Well, I was hoping the controversy would die down, but it seems to only have picked up steam. A bunch of different websites are scrutinizing me now.”

“All that publicity’s going to pay off eventually. Are you getting more clients?”

“No.”

“They’ll probably visit the site a few times before deciding to contact you. You always said that’s how it works. Give it time.”

“If I could get some new clients out of this fiasco, it would be sweet. Though I’m not sure a few more clients will make up for it. Anyway, I’m not desperate for more work at the moment. My midterm grades weren’t stellar so I’ve got to hit the books hard the next few weeks.”

“Your grades slipped?” He looks shocked.

“It’s been a busy few weeks, especially with the blog tour and, you know, the exchange student.”

“Right.”

When we get to the subway platform, my train comes up within seconds. “Well, I’ll see you.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you.”

I step onto the train and sit down. I’m tempted to give him a little wave as the train pulls away, but I decide against it. I always used to do that, and I don’t want him to misinterpret it. As I lean back and put on my iPod, I reflect on our encounter. Jared seems to be working hard to find a way to afford art
school. I hope he gets where he wants to be. He deserves to be happy.

It was cool to hear that he’s been checking my website and that he’s rooting for me. It’s a shame that we can’t be as open with each other as we used to be, but at least we can cheer each other on from afar.

I’m pumped. Tonight I’m going to help Evgeney get the girl, or die trying.

Not only has he made some excellent tweaks to my site, he’s been really supportive through the teenmoi fiasco. He’s proven himself to be a true friend, and I’ll have no problem talking him up to this girl, Rose. I only hope the plan works.

I meet Evgeney at the subway station and am pleasantly surprised to see he’s nicely dressed in black slacks and a stylish button-down white shirt. True, he’s overgelled his hair, but you can’t expect perfection.

“You look great—and I love that cologne.”

“It’s Reckless. You recommended it on your site last month.”

I wink at him. “True that.”

As we ride the subway, we discuss a plan of action. I’m to come into the class as a friend of his, partnering him in a few dances. Of course, I’m to laugh at his jokes and generally seem to enjoy his company. And I’m to talk with Rose whenever I can, extolling Evgeney’s virtues. He asks me to be subtle about it, and I promise that I will. I want this to work. Evgeney deserves a shot with this girl.

Once we have the plan ironed out, I ask him a question that’s been bugging me. “What’s with Eastern European guys and dancing? You watch those dance shows and it’s like half the guys are from Eastern Europe.”

“It’s part of our culture to learn to dance—it’s considered a
masculine quality to be able to dance well. Here it seems it’s mostly girls who take dance. Even in this class we’re going to, it’s mainly girls. I think a lot of people have become interested from watching the dance contests on TV. I wonder how many guys these days can sweep a girl across a dance floor in a waltz or dazzle them with a tango. None that I know except for me.”

We get off in Soho then walk a few blocks to Dimitri’s Dance Studio. Climbing the stairs to the second floor, we enter a large room with shiny oak floors and walls lined with mirrors. There’s already music on and a group of people at the side of the dance floor. They’re being entertained by a gorgeous couple spinning around the floor.

“That’s Dimitri and his partner, Svetlana.”

Dimitri, with his slick dark hair and lean tight body, looks like one of the professional dancers on
Dancing with the Stars
. I swear, how do people even move like that?

Before we gather with the rest of the class, Evgeney whispers, “She’s the one with blond hair and glasses, standing by the exit.”

I see her right away, and inwardly breathe a sigh of relief. My first impression of Rose: sweet and shy. Part of me was worried that Evgeney’s crush would be a bombshell with whom he’d have little chance of getting a date. Rose seems like she’d be a good match.

I’ve read several studies which concluded that people tend to go for mates who are around the same level of good looks as they are. Gorgeous people tend to find gorgeous mates, average-looking people with the same and so on. The interesting part is that it’s rare that people end up marrying someone who is more than a point or two different on the good-looking scale. Now, of course good looks can be subjective, but studies find that we tend to be attracted to people who look like us.
I’ve noticed the same phenomenon myself. Sometimes I’ll see a couple holding hands on the street and swear they could be brother and sister.

“I see we have a guest today!” an enthusiastic male voice bursts out.

I was too wrapped up in my thoughts to notice that Dimitri and his partner had stopped dancing, and he’d zeroed in on me.

“What is your name?”

“Kayla.”

“And what brings you here today, Kayla?”

“My friend Evgeney says it’s a great place to learn to dance.”

“Wonderful! Welcome, welcome!”

Dimitri comes up to me as if he’s going to drag me onto the floor, but he just reaches out to bend over my hand and bow grandly. I’m sure Amy would love this, but the attention is making me uncomfortable.

He takes a few steps back, and in another grand gesture, opens his arms. “Today, my friends, we learn a dance that will call upon the romantic inside you. Some say it is the most intimate dance that can happen between a man and a woman, besides the dance that brings all life.” Holy crap, is he talking about…? “The Viennese waltz!”

A couple of girls cheer and the rest of us shuffle our feet and wait for the demonstration. It’s weird that I’m going to be learning the waltz, the most romantic dance, with mostly female partners. This could be a good thing for Evgeney, though. Being the only single guy (the three other guys have come with partners) ratchets up his attractiveness.

Dimitri and Svetlana do an initial demonstration then break down the specific skills: the footwork, the position of the arms and hands and the facial expression. We pair up, and Evgeney
is, of course, my partner, though I know we’ll be rotating partners soon. Dimitri’s philosophy, apparently, is that it’s best to learn to dance with a variety of partners.