Connor’s face exploded with laughter as he stared my way. “Oh my gosh, this is so much better than I’d imagined it to be.”
“There’s no way I’m leaving the house like this,” I told him.
“You are definitely leaving the house like this. Come on, we gotta go.” He walked over to his dining room table and picked up a huge boom box. Why in the world did he have a boombox? This guy was so weird in the best of ways.
“Where exactly are we going?” I asked. “And why do we need a boombox?”
“We’re going to Times Square, to put on a show,” he told me, grabbing his keys off the coffee table. “So, let’s go.”
A show? What? No. Nope. I didn’t sign up for any public actions of humiliation.
“I’m sorry, Connor. I’m already drawing the line at any kind of show performances. I don’t have that level of confidence.”
“I know. Which is exactly why we’re doing it.”
“We’re not doing it.”
“Oh yes, Red.” He nodded with the biggest smile in the world. “We are.”
“No.” I stomped my feet. “We aren’t.”
Next thing you knew, I was standing in the middle of Times Square, dressed as a plum next to a male banana, as he put a cassette tape into the boom box. Where did he get a cassette tape?!
People were staring at us, but most of the people who looked on were tourists, which made me pleased to know that I’d probably never see them again. What made me less than excited? The cell phones in their hands as they began recording Connor and me.
“Connor, this is too much for me,” I said, feeling silly.
“No, not yet. This is going make it too much for you,” he explained, hitting play on his boom box. Within seconds, “What a Feeling,” by Irene Cara came blasting through the speakers. Was he truly playing the song from Flashdance?
Then, he began dancing around like a madman. He was humping his hips around with his banana, thrusting the air and spinning around and around. “Dance, Red,” he said, waving my way.
I felt so extremely embarrassed as people laughed at him leaping around like wild.
“I can’t dance like people aren’t watching, Connor,” I warned.
“Good. Dance as if they are. And then don’t care what they think.” He came over to me and took my hands into his. He squeezed them. “Aaliyah.”
“Yes?”
“Do you trust me?”
His eyes were so sincere as he asked me. He was filled with hope and excitement, and trust…
Crap.
I trusted him.
So, I allowed him to pull me into his arms, and the plum danced with the banana. We spun around faster and faster, taking the world on, and the more I danced with him, the more I laughed. The more I laughed, the more I forgot about the bystanders. The more he twirled me, the more freedom I found.
We danced to a lot of songs, each one filled with positivity, and when the last song came to a halt, when we hit the final note, I asked Connor to play the cassette over again.
Having Connor come back into my life felt like a blessing I didn’t deserve. At times, I wondered if he were even real, or if I’d somehow slipped into an unbelievable make-believe world where superheroes really existed and swooped in to save the day.
Talking with Connor was like talking to an old friend you hadn’t seen in years but truly cared for—effortless. All of the charm he’d had two years earlier was still there, tenfold. He didn’t know it, but I was in desperate need of his friendship.
Though, his life coach tasks were a bit overwhelming at times. He’d even given me a list of homework to tackle each morning.
Dance around my bedroom to a positive song.
Say no to someone you love.
Have a cheat meal.
I was still building up the courage to tackle number two and three on the list, but number one came pretty easy for me, seeing how Connor had left of list of positive songs for me to pick and choose from.
“Firework” by Katy Perry
“Best Life” by Cardi B (feat. Chance the Rapper)
“All I Do is Win” by DJ Khaled
“Can’t Stop the Feeling” by Justin Timberlake
“You Got It” by VEDO
His list was a great start. At first, I felt silly doing the act. I didn’t know how it was helping me learn to love myself, but if I could dance in the middle of Times Square as a plum, I could easily dance around my bedroom. I did it first thing in the morning, after taking a shower. I’d wrap my body in a towel and move my body as if there wasn’t a care in the world.
I added more songs to the playlist, too.
“This is Me” by Keala Settle & The Greatest Showman Ensemble
“I Am” by Yung Baby Tate (feat. Flo Milli)
“Brown Skin Girl” by Beyoncé
Even on the mornings when my self-doubt was louder than the music, I danced. On those days, I danced more. I’d began to dance in front of the mirror completely naked, looking at my body, all the flaws that all of my ex-boyfriends used to point out. My stretch marks. My too small chest. My fat ass. All if it stared back at me as I moved my hips.
I began singing along with the songs, allowing them to vibrate all across my skin.
“Oh, hell yeah! It sounds like a dance party in here!” Connor said one early Monday morning, walking into my bedroom waving his hands in the air.
“Oh my gosh!” I screamed, turning around to face him, completely naked. The only piece of fabric on my body was the towel wrapped around my hair.
“Boobs!” he shouted, hurriedly turning around and covering his eyes with his hands. “Oh shit! I’m sorry, Aaliyah! I just heard the soundtrack from The Greatest Showman and I always get excited about The Greatest Showman, and I’ll be honest I didn’t expect to walk in on the greatest show, man,” he rambled, making the
