perfect sense to me,” Dru said.
They looked silently at one another for a moment and Raven knew that he was telling the truth. He did understand her.
“Is there something in your life that gives you that same feeling? I mean, something you’re passionate about?” she asked.
Dru didn’t answer right away. He was uncertain how much of himself he was ready to reveal to her so soon. Yet, somehow he knew that he had no reason to fear exposing himself to her. Instinctively, he trusted her.
“The other morning…when you came into the studio before rehearsals and started to dance—”
“Yeah, what about it?” she asked quizzically.
“Well, I was sitting there, just thinking. All my life, I’ve watched my father in this business and, like I said, I was raised on the entertainment industry. While other kids were out practicing their Michael Jordan dunks or skateboarding, I was watching tapes of musical theater productions and studying contracts. I never had to answer the question of what I would like to be when I grew up…it was always a given.”
Dru looked away from Raven, his eyes staring off into the distance for a minute. When he returned his gaze, there was a deeper fire evident in his look.
“Watching you dance, so beautiful and so graceful…the way your body moved across the stage so effortlessly. I felt your radiance all the way back where I was sitting. If I could feel so much peace just from watching you, I can only imagine what you felt doing it.”
“It feels like I’m flying sometimes,” Raven said.
“See, that’s just what I’m talking about. I can’t imagine what that’s like. That ability you have to create beauty through your motions is a gift, you know,” he said.
“Yes, I know it is. I worked hard to get to the level I’m at right now, but I think that even if I never land another dancing job, I truly do feel blessed to just be able to dance.”
Dru leaned back in his chair suddenly overcome by the heaviness of their conversation.
“Creative people don’t always know how special they are. Sometimes they take their creativity for granted, you know. They don’t realize that there are so many people in the world who wish they could do what they do.”
“Are you one of those people?” Raven asked.
Their hands had remained connected the entire time they talked, Dru’s fingers laying lightly on top of hers. Now, Raven turned her hand over and closed her digits around Dru’s. He smiled slightly.
“Real talk?” he asked.
“Real talk,” she answered.
“Every time I read a story or a script for a stage play, I have these visions. I actually see the story laid out with characters, sets and everything.”
“So you’d like to what, write…direct for stage?”
“Maybe. Maybe even do both. And movies, too. I have all of these ideas for stories floating around in my brain. I can’t read a book without visualizing it on the big screen.”
“So why don’t you do it?”
“Nah, that’s not part of the plan. I’ve got an MBA and I develop and balance budgets. Period. Recently, my dad’s been giving me more and more responsibilities at Davis Theater Initiatives and my plate is pretty full. He expects me to take over where he leaves off one day.”
“But are you fulfilled?” Raven wanted to know.
“It’s an amazing job. What we do is handle the money for Broadway productions. My dad has always believed that playwrights and artists are a dime a dozen. They come and go, but the producers are what make it all possible. Besides, I enjoy producing. Don’t get me wrong, I do love being the glue that pulls a production all together. It’s rewarding work.”
“But it doesn’t speak to your creative side at all,” Raven pushed.
“No, but it’s enough,” Dru said in a tone that sounded as if he were trying to convince himself and her at the same time.
Raven considered Dru’s statement skeptically. She opened her mouth to say something else, but realized that it was not her place to second-guess him. By the time their meals arrived, the conversation had taken a much lighter tone. They laughed and joked about everything from music to fashion to nicknames.
“Pooh? You actually went into high school with people still calling you Pooh? Oh, my God. How’d you get any girls to take you seriously?” Raven laughed.
“Oh, you’ve got jokes. I’ll have you know, I did pretty well in the dating department. Never had any trouble at all.”
“Yeah, okay. Tell me anything.” Raven smirked.
“All right, well, what about you? What was your teenage love life like?”
“What?”
“You heard me. Were your Friday and Saturday nights booked or were you one of those girls who sat home popping popcorn and watching the late, late movie? Rollers in your hair and pimple cream all over your face?”
It was Dru’s turn to tease. Raven rolled her eyes.
“Uh-oh, looks like I hit a sore spot.”
“No, not even,” she insisted. “Look, in high school I was too busy to even think about boys. I took my studies seriously. And dance has always been a full-time commitment. You know how you guys are…selfish, demanding. Not able to understand why your girl would prefer studying or working on her pirouettes instead of going with you to the big game on Friday night. I just didn’t have the energy to deal with all that.”
Dru considered Raven’s admission for a moment, realizing that she was right to a large extent. Except for one thing.
“If I had met a girl like you in high school, one who was so talented and driven, I would have carried your ballet shoes to class, served as your dance bar and held your textbooks open while you read.”
A smile spread quickly across Raven’s face and she was about to hit Dru with a smart-aleck response. However, her tongue stalled as she looked into his eyes and realized that he was not trying to be funny. The sincerity of his words was unmistakable as she gazed at his bright eyes and unsmiling face.
“I wish I’d met a boy like you in high school,” she said at last.
Dru squeezed her hand warmly.
“Well, you’ve met me now…well, except that I’m a grown man.”
“And I’m a grown woman,” Raven countered.
At the door to the Harlem brownstone where Raven lived with her parents, Dru found it difficult to say good-night.
“So, when can we do this again?” he asked, taking Raven’s hands in his.
“Why?”
“Why? What kind of
