It was late night. I'd been trying to drown out my feelings all evening by laying on my bed and listening to loud music on my Walkman, but it wasn't working. Not even all of the Miami Sound Machine could drown out these thoughts. These fears. I'd heard Zorro scratching on my door a few hours ago despite the music. Heard Mama calling for me. Now it was probably pretty late, but I was sleepless in the face of this.

Sleepless, because of what Veronixxxa had told me this afternoon. "He's going to call you your birth name." Just thinking of that right now made me shut my eyes, trying to get it out of my crowded head with a violent shake.

I didn't need this on top of everything. I didn't suddenly need this cold man that I didn't even know coming in and invading my life like this.

Interspersed with sad thoughts in and out like floating fish out one ear and in another, Ambrose's face kept coming in. He kept smiling at me. Giving me that 'it's gonna be okay, you know' look. But it wasn't going to be okay. He wasn't even here to say that to me. And in sadness came anger, because he wasn't here. Where was he? Where? And the sadness would begin again, because I knew where he was. His smiling face. That mischievous grin. Those hazel eyes.

I'd just roll over on my bed again, trying not to sniffle. No more tears. I didn't want to cry anymore, I wanted to control myself. But I was getting overwhelmed. What was I supposed to do? My brain was wandering to him again, thinking about his hand on my back, rubbing the spot between my shoulder blades like always. Missing him. His touch.

I was up from my bed now, couldn't even remember getting on my feet. I couldn't take it anymore. I felt so alone, even though I was surrounded by more friends than I'd ever had. I'd only ever had Ambrose, but there I went thinking about him again. He was in every thought. I missed him in my heart too much. Needed him too much. I pained for him, needing to feel him, hear his words. Hear him say, 'if he calls you by your birth name I'll punch him in the face' which was his solution for everything because it made me laugh.

I went out of my room with my hand over my mouth and couldn't tell if it was to keep myself from crying or if it was to stop a smile I didn't want to have from the thought of him punching Veronixxxa's father in the face or both. I couldn't keep those overwhelming things inside me anymore and I needed to do something. Needed to talk to someone. But who could help me? I couldn't talk to my Mama. She'd tell me to suck it up and take it, that a job is a job no matter what name I went by. She wouldn't understand. It felt like the only people who'd truly understand I couldn't talk to.

But two minutes later, my body had done the only thing it knew how to do and that's how on the other end of the line I was hearing Miss Cha Cha's voice saying, "Bueno? Hola? Hello?" And the guilt.

I didn't say anything at first, but just hearing her voice, I knew my instinct had been correct. My emotions had figured out the right person to talk to, even if my dumb fingertips had simply pressed the phone number they most longed to press to hear the voice I most longed to hear, no matter what. No matter how stupid it was, I'd dialed Ambrose's number to hear Ambrose even though of course he wasn't there and I still didn't want to talk to him, still couldn't sort these strange feelings. I didn't know what I'd even have said to him even if he had been-

"Um...Bueno? Buen...Hello?" Miss Cha Cha sounded very confused. One glance at the clock above the kitchen table told me it was past 3am. No wonder she sounded so worried. But what she said next...my heart couldn't take it.

"Ambrose? Is that you? Do you need to talk?"

This made me voice break. "No. No, it's not Ambrose!" I broke down, immediately folding into tears, unable to control my body anymore, something I'd been trying to do all day but now... Why'd she have to say that? It was immature, I knew it was immature of me, but why'd she have to say that of all things? What made her say that?

But immediately after the words left my mouth my hand was over it again, muting me, because my Mama was asleep in the room just off the kitchen. She had an 8am shift at the hospital. What was I thinking? What was I doing trying to call Ambrose, disturbing Miss Cha Cha at 3am and Georgina, too, because- oh god, Georgina must have been sleeping too, just like my Mama. I knew it was possible that I hadn't woken up Miss Cha Cha, because she always stayed up so late, but oh god, did I wake up Georgina with my stupid call?

"Ruiz? Oh, Ruiz..." Miss Cha Cha's comforting voice took on an immediate concern, a soft way about it. I realized my shoulders were shaking, making my breathing audible and shaky, too. Her soft voice continued comforting me. "I'm sorry. What's wrong? You okay? I was worried about you. You didn't call me for such a long time."

It hadn't been a long time, not really, but it definitely felt longer.

I sniffled, wiping my eyes with my fist. "Wait, Miss Cha Cha. I gotta...take the phone into my room." Immediately I picked up the phone and attempted to move the table to release the long phone cord. I was successful, budging it with my hip. The long plastic cord fell down with a deafening clack sound that made me jump but didn't seem to disturb anything else.

"Okay. I can wait," Miss Cha Cha assured with her never ending patience. I didn't know how she did it.

I made my way down the hallway, dragging the phone cord after me. I was so glad Zorro appeared to be sleeping in my Mama's room, or else it was guaranteed she'd be barking right now. Finally, I got inside my room and settled down on my bed, laid on my stomach. I noticed I began to wind the phone cord around my fingers like I always did when nervous, but I didn't care. It didn't make a difference.

I took a long breath.

"Hmm?" Miss Cha Cha asked, the wonder dripping with sweet concern.

"Why- why'd you'd think I was Ambrose?" I asked, too quiet I thought, but she heard me anyway.

"Oh, because he calls me a lot, especially at night."

Oh. Was he really? My heart felt like it was being tugged out of my chest by an invisible hand. I wasn't expecting this. It felt like he'd disappeared, intangible, but he was so close like this. My heart was panged with an oddness, some part comforted, some part just pain. Just pain. My hand gripped the phone harder in the burn.

"But why did you call me? I'm glad you called me, I just thought... Is there a reason? Ruiz?"

I realized I'd been being quiet, not answering her, thinking about Ambrose. "Um. Y- yeah," I forced out, having trouble saying anything at all. But the memory of today, what happened today, flooded in among the sadness and the pain. "Um, Miss Cha Cha?"

"Si," she said, thoroughly listening.

I cleared my throat with a cough, thinking about it. Thinking about Veronixxxa, what her father did, how he'd reacted to her, everything. The job, everything.

"Miss Cha Cha, I got a job," I said, unsure where to go with this. But her reaction to it?

"Oh! Wonderful! I'm proud of you! What kind of job is it?"

My lip quivered. A tear rolled down my cheek, then another, thinking about Veronixxxa's father's words, about the tax form in the packet on top of my dresser right now.

"No, it's not wonderful." I sighed and rolled over on my bed, the phone cord coming with me.

"What's wrong?" she was almost intuitive about it.

"Miss Cha Cha, how do you um..." My heart was telling me what to do clearly, but it was hard.

"Hmm?"

"How do you deal with...somebody um. Somebody calling you the wrong thing at work? Um. Do you know what I mean?" But I knew she'd know what I meant if I could just get the words to go. But how was I supposed to do that? I could hardly form them in my head, comprehend what was happening.

"The wrong thing? What do you mean?"

I wracked my brain. But there was no other way to say it but the truth. "My new boss. Um, he's my friend's father. But he's not respectful of her. She's kind of like we are, um. Trans, you know, but not? She's kind of androgynous, but she still goes by 'she' and her name is Veronixxxa-"

"Oh! Veronixxxa Playboy! I know her!"

What in the hell? I bit my lips inside my mouth to keep from making an overwhelming noise. Could it be? Could it have been this perfect? Did she understand?

"How do you know Veronixxxa?" I couldn't help it, in the soup of emotions in my body right now I let out a snicker. She just sounded so excited.

"Her pole work. I did pole dancing? I know her. I keep up with it. She's a pole dancer at Her Majesty, I was a pole dancer at Her Majesty. Of course I know about her!"

I was confused. I didn't know this at all. I knew she'd been a dancer at Her Majesty, but the pole? I was temporarily stunned. Just the image of Miss Cha Cha, so much younger, dressed in that gold dress I'd found in her closet, that Proud Mary dress, maybe working one of the poles raised above the dance floor at Her Majesty. It was mind boggling. But knowing her, knowing her strong body, she could do it. I blinked in the madness of it. Suddenly, I wanted to go back in time and see her. But with another blink I was brought back to the present. What we were really talking about. We'd gotten sidetracked, but we had to get back on track. But just talking to her, about normal things that I knew and wanted to talk about, would rather talk about...it made my heart lighten just a little.

"Oh, I see...well, her father? Her father owns this diner? Veronixxxa got me a job there. But I don't know. Her father doesn't treat me right." I didn't really know how to say it. But Miss Cha Cha was right with it, as I half knew she would be. It sent relief down my spine.

"Is he not calling you the right thing?"

"No, he's not. He's- well, he hasn't done it yet, but Veronixxxa said that when he knows what my birth name is he's going to call me that. He called her by her boy name in front of me, too. So I know he's... What do I do, Miss Cha Cha? I unfolded, getting into the flow of It, my flowing emotions about it. She'd made me feel so comfortable, knowing exactly who I was talking about with knowing Veronixxxa, knowing intuitively. "I don't want to deal with that. I can't take it. I don't want him to call me that in front of other people. I told you about my daddy? I don't want him to call me my daddy's name in front of people. I can't deal with it. Like, why does this have to happen now? Don't I have enough? I can't deal with it, with Ambrose being like that and my Mama now and-" I was speaking quieter now, but my words were flowing like water out of my mouth, because I knew Miss Cha Cha understood. She had to.

"Hmm." I could hear her tapping on something, knowing her kitchen maybe it was the kitchen table or the wall next to the telephone.

"Hmm?" I mimicked her, because it was comforting.

"Hmm. You know, if you wanted you could not work there. I'm sure Tango could find something for you to do. You could help me teach the beginner class, the three to five year olds? I bet they'd love you. We don't do a lot, for them it's more about discovering dance and having fun in your body, learning what it can do, simple basics. I could teach you what I teach them, it's simple. You could help me round them up, make them pay attention, reinforce that they're doing the right thing. You speak good English, but also Spanish. We could use you in the office, talk to the parents about what they need, to the adult students about what they need? It could work. What do you think? I couldn't pay you much, but you could work here and I'd call you the right thing and everybody would call you the right thing."

Wait, what was she talking about?

"What do you mean?" I asked slowly, trying to comprehend.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You can work at Tancha. You know, me and Tango's dance studio. I know how important it is to work at some place that respects you. You could work here."

I was in shock again. It felt like I was floating off the bed. It was like my tears were stunned off my face. And she kept going on.

"You have your high school diploma. That's all we really need. If you want to teach formally some day, I could teach you. Tango could teach you. He's good, especially at pair work, I should know, right?" she giggled and I was trying to control my breathing.

A distant memory formed in my mind as she was speaking, of a warm, strong body entwined with mine in her living room, Selena music twisting around in a love machine fueled by dance. I was being led by a beautiful hand, hazel eyes staring into my eyes. My heart was pounding so hard, going so fast.

Ambrose. Ambrose loved to dance. Ambrose had been taught to dance by Miss Cha Cha, danced with me with so much love. I began to blush, trying not to think of that, but of what she was saying. It sounded crazy, but wonderful, the idea of not having to worry about being respected, working with her and... My body became warm, harder to breathe.

"I'm just talking in thin air. Out loud? Talking. Thinking out loud," she sighed, but she sounded happy about it. Happy to give me this way out, relieved even.

But it wasn't that easy, either. I pressed my eyes closed, the part about the pay sticking out. How much would I really be paid? It hit me in the face how I was working for the money, not for pleasure, or... I sighed into the phone. But my body was telling me something else. It was telling me, in its excitement about her words, that it actually wanted to entertain the idea of-

"But I need money, Miss Cha Cha. I gotta- my Mama wants me to pay rent now and bills. I need that money." My brain was at war saying this. Because I could actually imagine myself in a classroom, one of the smaller studios. There were three, so three classes could go on at once at Tancha. I'd visited them all, saw the students learning. It looked so fun, and the idea of teaching little kids to dance? I found myself beaming and I was so confused. But I couldn't stop. Only the reality of the conflicting need of money and this sudden want to teach those little kids.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, but our budget right now? We couldn't pay you a lot or give you a lot of hours. Just answering the phone for a couple of hours in the morning, couple of hours at night, help me teach the three to five year olds for an hour twice a week. It's less than part time at best. You need full time? Oh, and you'd have to start in the summer time for the phones. Amy, our secretary, is going home to California then. She's in college, so she works here during the school year. But she doesn't speak Spanish, but you do. You'd be better." She seemed to be rambling now, as romanticized by the idea as I was. It halfway broke my heart, because what she was saying?

"I'm sorry, Miss Cha Cha." This devastated feeling in my heart. How was I this disappointed by a few minutes' conversation?

"No, I'm sorry. I should have thought more about it before I talked about it." She sighed, sounding just as disappointed as me. Something about it made me feel a tiny bit better, knowing she understood. "But just know, if you ever wanted, you could work here. We'd like you to. We know you, you're family, so. You're always welcome."

You're family. Those words.

"Thank you, Miss Cha Cha."

"You're welcome. But I think, just know that no matter what anybody tells you, it's going to be okay. Like, did I tell you? I used to waitress. Well, waiter...but that's neither there nor here. You'll be okay."

Miss Cha Cha did? How could we be so alike? And she seemed to be stumbling over her words, stumbling over herself to help me.

"I'm going to be a dish washer."

"Oh, a dish washer?" she seemed surprised by this.

"Yeah, I was a dish washer at McCrory's Pub, too."

"That place is racist. I've been there. They forgot my salad." Her tone told me she was still mad about it.

I found myself making a half laugh at this. How did she know just the right thing to say? Somehow, just by talking to her, finding out about how she used to be a pole dancer, her offering me work even though I couldn't take it? I was feeling a lot better somehow. And even though I was talking to her right now, it was making me miss her so much.

"I heard that laugh. You can't hide from me. You feeling better?"

I gave another half laugh. "Yeah, a little. But I'm still worried about working. About...Ambrose. I don't um..." Suddenly I was speechless again. Thinking about him always made me unable to speak. Too overwhelming.

"Ambrose is okay. He entered the main program in the rehab the other day."

Oh. I felt a little dizzy by this information. She gave it up so easily. All this wondering about him, she knew the answers. It hadn't occurred to me how easy it could be, just by talking to her I got all the answers I wanted, to everything. It was so confusing.

"The rehab? I thought he was already in the rehab program?"

"Oh no, he was in detox before that. You know, he had to 'sweat it out' first? I think that's what they call it."

I pressed my blanket to my chest, gathering it tightly with my free fingers. What she was saying now, so soon after I'd been laughing. I realized my mouth was open and I closed it while swallowing hard. The image of Ambrose somewhere, sweating and shaking. I knew what withdrawal was. I knew what it looked like. And imagining him like that? The tears were back and I couldn't help it. Even more, there was something in me creating a great longing, pulling me thin in all sorts of directions, paining to help him, but part of me was mad and-

"He's okay, though. He was having a really hard time, but he's okay. He knows what he has to do, and he doesn't want to do that shit anymore. He'll be okay."

I pressed my lips together, trying to stop my voice from wobbling. My entire room was blurry, I couldn't see. I blinked and the tears feel down my cheeks, clearing my vision silently.

"That's something I wanted to talk to you about, too," she went on. She seemed a little hesitant now.

"Hmm?" I mimicked her 'Hmm' again, because of the comfort in it. It quelled my heart just a little bit.

"I can visit him starting next week. They have to have him in there a week to get him adjusted, then he can have visitors. I was wondering, but I wasn't sure if you want to um... Do you want to go with me?"

What? But. But... I wanted to put my blanket over my head, hide.

The words came out too quiet. "I thought you said he didn't want to see me?" I breathed in too quick, feeling like I was going to choke but I didn't choke. This spiraling down feeling.

"Yeah, but I think he only said that because he was messed up? Do you know what I mean? He wasn't thinking clearly. I'm sure he wants to see you."

I paused, unsure. "But did he say he wants to see me?" My blanket creeped higher up my neck, threatening to go over my head without me consciously allowing it to. My fear.

"He still thinks you don't want to see him. But I know you want to see him."

I know. She sounded so sure, confident. Like it was an 'of course you want to see him.' And dropping my blanket on my bed, adjusting myself into a sitting position, with determination I knew she was right. All of a sudden. Just all of a sudden, I knew she was right.

Just the idea of him all alone, in so much pain. He was trying so hard. Suddenly, it felt like- but I was so confused about him and everything, that couldn't go away, but these feelings.

"I do want to see him."

"Then come with me next week. It's going to be a Monday, that's the soonest. Monday at 10am."

I bit my bottom lip. Oh god, what was I supposed to do? I let out all of my breath, cleansing my body almost. My brain, my heart, was telling me this was the right thing. He was there, trying so hard. I was trying so hard, but he was... He'd told me all those things, went around doing all those things, and now he was right there trying so hard.

What if he was going to be better? What if things were going to be different? Things were already different.

Images from that night, when he was in the long pink mermaid dress, when I was in the pink dress he'd made for me. That dress. He'd made me that dress even though he was doing all that stuff behind my back.

I sniffled, the memories and thoughts swirling around. I was so confused, but there was this beacon of hope telling me things.

Slowly, so slowly, I spoke. "Okay. I'll go with you."

"Wonderful. I'll tell him. Don't worry." She sounded so pleased.

She'd offered me a job. She was now offering me this opportunity. Miss Cha Cha. I was so grateful, but I was in shock. I didn't know what to do, but it seemed like she always did.

It was comforting to me in so many mysterious ways. And maybe, just maybe with her help things could be okay.