Friendship, Love, and the Healing Power of Tango Shoes

My friend Kathy and I still laugh when my mom tells someone, “The girls met when they were three. They grew up together.”

It’s true. I’ll never forget that day. We were three years old. It was the first day of preschool at a special needs elementary school. Kathy was clinging to her mother’s leg, peeking cautiously out at me from one side.

She had brown eyes and brown hair to my blue eyes and blonde hair. I was sitting on a bench. We were in the hall waiting for our teacher. When she finally came out to greet us and usher us into the classroom, I took one look at her salt-and-pepper hair and whispered, “Mama, is my teacher a witch?”

Kathy was reluctant to leave her mom and I barreled right into the room, excited by the colorful rugs, tables, crayons, and toys. I looked around and saw a boy and a girl with crutches like mine, some kids in wheelchairs, and a stack of my favorite things in the world – books!

I introduced myself to Kathy and asked her name. She didn’t have crutches but walked with an unsteady gait. Before long, I would learn that she was born with Cerebral Palsy, just like me.

Something magical happened that day. I made a new friend who would go on to share every phase of my life with me. Though she was shy at first and I probably talked her ear off, we formed a tight and fast bond over Barbies, playing cards, drinking Coke, and listening to Donny Osmond sing “Puppy Love” on our suitcase-style record players over and over and over.

Kathy became the sister I never had. My brother constantly teased us and we fell in love with her little sister and baby brother when they were born.

We’ve shared way too many milestones to even count. At 23, we went to England, Wales, and Scotland with our friend Kim. We “curbed” and “spoked” my wheelchair over all kinds of cobblestone streets on that trip. We also endured mutual heartbreak as die-hard Beatles fans that Liverpool was cancelled from our tour due to some disturbances in the area that were deemed unsafe for tourists.

London remains one of my favorite places I’ve ever been.

Along with traveling, we share a mutual love of music, books, movies, and TV shows.

In 1994, I accepted a job offer in Tennessee and moved away. At the start, I didn’t know how desperate and complicated my life would become. The man I thought I loved, married, and had a child with had a dark side.

What I’ve since learned about myself is that I didn’t even recognize his behavior as “abuse.” I told myself he had a hot temper. Then he became controlling. He didn’t like it when I talked on the phone to friends back home. If I went to a movie with a female co-worker, he wedged himself into the outing or he froze me out for days if I came home and said I had fun. His moods were erratic and unpredictable.

He hated my wheelchair and everything it represented. He hated my “Cerebral Palsy death grip.” He made me feel worthless and small. And eventually, my heart and spirit broke.

Through the chaos, Kathy and my friends back home were a constant ray of light. I never really told anyone all I had endured, but they knew I was miserable.

When my son was 10 months old, a job transfer brought the three of us back home.

After spending years being verbally, mentally, and emotionally abused, my self-confidence was gone. The only thing I knew for sure was that I didn’t want my son growing up in a volatile home –and we both deserved better.

When I finally found the courage to leave, starting out on my own was scary. However, I was blessed with a wonderful support system of family and friends.

Kathy loved “Dancing with the Stars.” Some of the pro and celebrity dancers were touring a show called “Ballroom with a Twist.” It was coming to a theater near us. I knew she loved season 8 contender Gilles Marini. He was going to host and dance in the show.

I got us tickets and wrote a letter to his manager, explaining my lifelong friendship with Kathy, and how she’d helped me overcome such a dark time in my life. I wondered if we could get an autograph and possible photo with Gilles as a means of giving back to Kathy for all she’d given me.

Gilles’ manager read my letter, called me, and said yes, we could meet him after the show.

I was so excited I could barely breathe!

We arrived at the venue on a snowy winter night. We confirmed that our names were on an after-show list, and that Gilles had left two tickets for us. Because we already had our tickets, I asked my nephew and his college roommate to join us, as his school was nearby.

Though we had not yet met, it looked like Gilles was searching for someone out in the crowd when he hosted. Later, I would learn he was trying to find us!

During his first dance number, he danced to the song “Better” by Alissa Moreno.

It was beautiful and it was as if the lyrics were speaking directly to me:

“Shame

Why'd you try to make me feel like everything

Is all my fault I don't amount to anything

When I know better

Do I fight?

Should I try?

Is it fate, in my way?

I'm already this far

And I couldn't have done better

Pain

Can you tell me why it is I'm so afraid of you?

I've suffered you before and always gotten through

Heartache

What is it that always makes you fond of me?

Seems like you should be my greatest enemy

But I know better …”

I was already so emotional. Plus, I was nervous, and excited. I couldn’t help but think I was meant to hear that song, in that moment. To cosmically reassure me that I did indeed, deserve better. That I shouldn’t blame myself for someone else’s abusive behavior …

After the show, I waited nervously while Gilles talked to some other people. He locked eyes with me, smiled that incredible, dimpled smile of his and signaled for us to wait a minute.

His open smile alone brought tears to my eyes. When he came to us, he hugged us both, looked at me and said, “I read your letter. I don’t ever want you to let someone make you feel small again. You are beautiful.”

In that moment, my heart melted. I tried to explain how much Kathy meant to me and how beautiful we both thought he was –and what a phenomenal dancer!

(We still think he should have won DWTS instead of coming in second behind Shawn Johnson, the gymnast!

I fumbled around in my purse to find my “Sex and the City” movie DVD jacket for him to sign.

He smiled and winked. I said, “My purse is such a mess!”

He said, “Well then, we’re going to have a problem.”

I looked up, confused. Then he said, “You have to have someplace to put these.” He held up his tango shoes – the shoes that he danced his Argentine Tango to a perfect score of 30 with Cheryl Burke.

If I forget every moment I’ve ever had, I’ll never forget when I first locked eyes with my tiny son (also born eight weeks early), and I’ll never forget when Gilles handed his shoes to me. I was so stunned, I couldn’t speak. And, I don’t even know if I properly thanked him in that moment.

At that point in time, those shoes were HIS most prized possession. His magic shoes. He made hearts around the world beat out of control as he perfectly pointed his toes, arched his fingers, bent Cheryl backwards.

Gilles Marini didn’t dance that Argentine Tango. He became the dance. If dance has a breath, if dance has life, it swirled through Gilles –people thundered in applause. People were moved. People wept. Carrie Ann Inaba still names Gilles as one of the best dancers that has ever competed on DWTS.

After that dance, the charismatic Frenchman’s acting career took off. He played romantic and charming Luc Laurent on “Brothers and Sisters.” He was mysterious but caring Angelo on “Switched at Birth.” He was cunning and dangerous Sebastien on “Devious Maids,” and most recently, he lost 35 pounds in a life-changing role in “Waiting for Anya” in which a shepherd helped smuggle Jewish children across the border from France to Spain during WWII.

That night, Gilles told me about his best friend that grew up in France with him. He also told me about his dad, who died in his ‘40s from colon cancer when Gilles was only 18. He said his dad was the town baker in Cannes. He would take in homeless people and troubled youth, feed them, and give them a place to sleep.

Townspeople called Georges Marini “Uncle.” When he passed away, people were lined into the street to honor him at his funeral. He said that growing up, his parents told him and his siblings that no matter what, they had to give to others and love others. They couldn’t look in the mirror and rest on their looks. Instead, they had to be humble and help others.

Gilles has dedicated his life to do just that. He and his beautiful wife Carole have two amazing kids, Georges and Juliana. He strives to honor his own father by being the best husband and father he can be to his family. He’s also a wonderful son to his mother, who still lives in France.

To say the night seemed like a fairy tale seems like an understatement. I was floating on some mile-high cloud, caught up in my own Cinderella moment – that just featured another kind of shoe.

Kathy and I share that pair of shoes like a friendship necklace.

That night, Gilles said “We’re friends, now. We’ll talk soon.”

I nodded, thinking he was just closing out the evening trying to be nice.

The thing is, he was serious. Our hearts were linked forever that night by those shoes.

My mom loved dancing as a young girl. She even taught dance lessons in her parents’ basement when she was a teenager.

When I was born, my mom and I both almost died. We were in an Army hospital and it was a very traumatic birth. I was so small; my toes could fit through the holes of the incubator screen. The doctors didn’t expect me to live one day.

But I hung in there. Eventually, I went home. Sadly, my mom would never have a little ballerina to train. If she was heartbroken or overwhelmed back then at just 21 years old, she never showed it.

Instead, she worked tirelessly with my tiny hands that were constantly clenched in fists. She opened and closed them repeatedly. She stretched my feet, took me to physical therapy, helped me through multiple surgeries with multiple body casts. She is still my hero and my angel. And my son loves her beyond compare.

I always felt bad about not being able to dance for my mom. Watching Gilles dance so effortlessly lifted my spirit to a place I’d never been. He made my spirit dance that night.

Writing has always been my passion. Though I’d never pursued it professionally – until I met Gilles.

With his encouragement, I launched my freelance writing career. I started as an Arts & Entertainment writer for a site that’s no longer active.

I wrote TV and film recaps and reviews. I covered every series Gilles was on. He did multiple interviews with me, which opened doors for other interviews.

I’ve interviewed KaDee Strickland (“Private Practice”), Caterina Scorsone (“Grey’s Anatomy”), Evan Peters (“American Horror Story”), Naomi Grossman (“American Horror Story”), Yvette Nicole Brown (“Community”), among many others.

At one point in my career I launched a “Women in Makeup/FX” series and interviewed some iconic female makeup artists like Beth Hathaway (“Jurassic Park,” “Terminator 2”) and Emmy-nominated makeup artist Cristina Patterson (“American Horror Story,” the “Twilight” franchise).

Cristina overcame dyslexia and launched her own company, Eye Ink FX. She’s one of only nine artists in the world who hand-paint contact lenses one at a time. Her tenacity and talent is so inspiring.

I also did an extensive sit-down interview with Oscar-winning makeup artist and Tinsley Studios Founder, Christien Tinsley. Christien graciously gave me a tour of the studio during the time they were working on “American Horror Story: Coven.”

I saw Kathy Bates’ “head on a platter,” Bloody Face from AHS: Asylum, Frances Conroy’s Angel of Death wings and so much more.

All of it, every surreal accomplishment, I credit directly back to my dear friend Gilles. My ex-husband told me I’d never amount to anything. He did everything he could to crush my spirit. Sadly, I believed him.

There’s something about those tango shoes. Something about Gilles and his kind heart and humble compassion that still make me feel like I can fly, like my spirit can dance – even if my legs don’t cooperate.

January 29 marked the 10th anniversary of my friendship with Gilles Marini.

Over the years, in various conversations, I’ve learned that he has a penchant for giving his shoes to those who need them most. He’s given shoes off his feet to homeless people in L.A., and to rescue workers in Bora Bora who were searching for a missing man on a treacherous mountain in broken flip flops. (He was part of the search party!)

What else can I tell you about Gilles? His eyes light up when he smiles. He’s even more beautiful on the inside than he is on the outside. He loves his wife and kids deeply. My son pretty much considers him a superhero – and he’s pretty much right! He’s not affected by fame. He’s an international sex symbol, but not the least bit arrogant. He’s had more surgeries than me and never stays down for long.

We don’t get to see each other very often. But we keep in touch, do an annual holiday interview, and he’s watched my son grow from five to 15!

A few years back we met for lunch in Studio City. I told him I can never truly thank him for giving me those shoes that day. I said I’ll also never understand how I have the surreal honor of being his friend all these years.

He said, “I’ll tell you how. You forever changed my heart that day. Your courage, in wanting to get up out of your wheelchair and walk to me. To show me you could do it. I love you my friend.”

Unfortunately, my mobility has declined in the past couple of years.

When I’m feeling frustrated, I listen to “Better” and think about Gilles, the healing power of those tango shoes, and how gaining his friendship and light in my life has changed me forever.

He also helped me find my voice again, after feeling like I had no voice for so long.

I write for multiple websites and still have so many writing goals. Thanks to my mom’s tireless efforts in working to open my hands when I was little, I can type today. I cherish every day I still share with her.

I’m also thankful for Kathy for being the kind of friend that can telepathically figure out what I’m thinking, or to finish a sentence for me. She still makes me laugh, talks sense into me, and totally gets why rugs of any kind may not be friendly. She also shares a mutual compulsion to blurt movie lines like “Put, the candle back!!” I love her dearly.

My son is the light and love of my life. He gives me a reason, every day, to stay strong, push through hard times, and keep striving for something better.

Thanks to friendship, love, and the healing power of Tango shoes I’ll always believe anything is possible – I’ll always reach for the stars.