The Dance

Part of me was sure that she wouldn’t come.

She and I had tried to become “us” at the wrong time…in the wrong place. That almost never works.

We danced and shadowboxed, flirting and kissing and then running back to our respective corners, knowing it would never be want we thought we wanted it to be. But we were lonely…we were young…we were just foolish enough to believe that nothing could stop us if we put our minds to it and put our naïve hearts together.

Yeah…that almost never works either.

We drifted, looking for a graceful way to embrace the inevitable, wanting absolution once we accepted that what we thought we wanted was never to be. It’s not about your daddy, said I. It’s not about your mother, said she. It’s not about the gulfs of race and experiences and lives mapped out before we had a chance to figure out who we were, said we…as if lying to ourselves…as if lying to each other…would somehow make it all better. That almost…

We moved on, flowing with time and heartache to different, distant shores. I ignored the invitation to her wedding; she (and her husband) accepted the invitation to mine. We laughed about “old times”…now colored in bittersweet shades of amber and rust…and vowed to keep in touch. That…

We met in the place we used to go to…a small bar several put upon years beyond charming…on the anniversary of the first night our hearts quickened almost beyond comprehension because my dark hand was resting on her pale breast. I sat alone for a few moments and just as I was on the verge on cursing myself for a fool, she appeared.

We smiled…slowly, awkwardly, guiltily, shyly, lovingly…and shared a drink. She went over to the jukebox and played the song…she held out her hand and I drew her close…my arm slipping easily, comfortably around her slender waist. I delighted in her familiar aroma…honeysuckle and cigarette smoke…that had long ago seared itself sweetly into my consciousness. We closed our eyes and danced…slowly, awkwardly, guiltily, shyly, lovingly…until the music stopped.

She touched my face…I kissed her forehead….we giggled like children and walked out of that place gingerly holding hands. In the street we made no promises…told no lies…embracing the moment for what it was we nodded knowingly and then, fighting the urge to look back just one more time, we went home to our different, distant shores.

And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end, the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But I'd of had to miss the dance...

“The Dance” words and music by Tony Arata

- for LDC -