Page 20 of Easy Rumba

“I will do,” Elise mutters and starts down the corridor toward the exit of the building at a quick pace.

I run into the dance studio and grab my phone and car keys before heading back out. By the time I get outside, Elise is standing next to my car at the passenger door side, looking dejected. Her head is still bowed low, and her shoulders slumped. She’s like a broken doll. My chest hurts watching her this way. I remember when she was a free spirit.

There was this one time when we’d gone to a park near where we both lived. It was a hot day, and we both jumped into a small lake fully clothed just to cool off. We were eventually told off by a local patrolman and asked to leave the park, but it was Elise who’d been the first to jump in. She encouraged me. I remember her teasing me and calling me a wimp when I initially refused.

The woman I’m seeing in front of me now would never do that. She’d rather run in the opposite direction than do anything so daring and devil-may-care.

I click the key to open the car, and having placed her bag on the backseat, she climbs into the front, and fastens her seat belt in silence. I slide into the driver’s side of the rental car and pull away from the parking spot. We drive in silence for a few miles. I don’t need to ask directions. I dropped her home a couple days last week when her legs were too tired from the constant training, so I know where I’m going.

“What happened with your husband?” I finally break the tense atmosphere in the car.

“Nothing,” Elise’s reply is succinct and firmly shuts the door on any further conversation. I know she doesn’t want to talk about it, but I’m not going to give in that easily.

“A few years ago, I met this woman. I’d been carefree and single up until that point, but we got on really well.” I start to tell my story, hoping it will encourage her to open up to me. “I’ve never really found the one, and I guess I still had my doubts about her, but I decided to give it a chance because we got on so well together. I asked her to come and live with me, and she accepted straight away. We moved her in the next weekend.”

“Leo, you don’t have to tell me this,” Elise interrupts, but I ignore her and continue with my story.

“At first, it was bliss. I mean, sex on tap, who isn’t going to enjoy that?” Elise winces. “But gradually, I noticed things. It was like a déjà vu at first. I thought I’d put things in a certain place, and when I went to find them, they were gone. Money, fancy clothes, even a trophy—one by one, they all disappeared. When a necklace my mamá gave me for safe keeping vanished, I pulled the house apart trying to find it. There was no trace, though. I’d been working a lot and practicing for a competition, and I began to think I was going mad. But then I noticed my girlfriend coming home with new handbags, shoes, and other expensive items. She didn’t have a well-paid job, and most of her stuff was designer.”

We stop at some traffic lights, and I look across at Elise. She’s still looking straight ahead, her face pale despite the fake tan we have to wear. The car behind me beeps his horn, and when I look up at the light, I realize it’s now green. I pull away again, keeping my eyes focused firmly on the road this time.

“When I eventually asked her about it, she flew into a rage and accused me of being mean to her. The money was from her inheritance, and I should trust her. I apologized. We made up, and for a couple months everything was fine. Then it happened again—I lost a watch my father gave me. It wasn’t fancy or worth a great deal of money, but it was from him, and I don’t get to see him anymore. It was special. Reluctantly, I knew I had to do something about it, so I had CCTV installed in the house while she was away for a girl’s weekend at an expensive spa in Beverly Hills. When she returned, I gave it a few days and then reviewed the footage. What I saw broke the trust I have in women. She was stealing from me. Anything she could lay her hands on. I watched her take money from my wallet when I wasn’t looking, raid my wardrobe for designer clothes, and even take one of my old trophies out of the house.”

“Leo.” Elise reaches out and places her hand over mine on the steering wheel. “You don’t have to go on. I know it must be hard. Please.”

Again I ignore her.

“I showed her the footage that night. She went mad at me for not trusting her. She blamed me for not buying these things for her. The only reason she’d said yes to moving in with me was because she wanted to be a kept woman like her friends. She told me I was in the wrong and accused me of forcing her to steal to keep up appearances. She told me I wasn’t a generous enough partner. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d initially planned to keep all the stuff she’d bought with the money and items she’d stolen from me, but in the end I just wanted her out of my life. I told her to leave, and then I walked out of my house. When I came back some time later she’d left, having taken a load more stuff—everything of value was gone, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even tell the police. Her false sense of entitlement made her believe she deserved all that stuff, and I didn’t have the energy at the time to argue with her. I just wanted her out of my life. Thankfully, I’ve not seen her since. I did hear she was dating some British pop-star and was covered in jewels and designer clothing. I guess she found the person she wanted.”

I pause in my conversation while I pull the car up outside Elise’s house. It looks like no one’s home, and I wonder if Izzy is with Gabby. Elise places her hand on the door to open it, but I stop her and continue speaking.

“For a long time after, whenever I went out with a woman, I made sure I bought everything for them, even small gifts on a first date. They thought I was crazy. Eventually I realized I didn’t have to buy expensive presents, I just needed to be me. But it took a long time to recover from what that woman did to me. Relationships should be equal—that is the main thing I’ve learned. No one person is more important than another.”

Elise rests her head against the window. I hear her take a deep breath before she turns back to me.

“I think you better come in.”

She shuts her eyes after she speaks as if it’s painful to even get one or two words out.

“Why?” I ask, needing to know she’s going to be honest with me. “What happened between you and your husband?” I question again.

Elise knits her hands together, the whites of the knuckles showing.

“He hit me.”

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