Dance

This is an old story from an older blog. I just found it funny for some reason.

-

In the candlelight, her eyes were hazy as if she was dreaming. Her head swayed slightly, in time with the music played by the band. She watched the couples dancing with a small smile and a longing gaze.

There was no one there to dance with her but me.

"Do you want to dance?" I ask her as she snaps out of her daydream long enough to pick her goblet of water by the stem. She looks surprised and wordlessly holds holds out her hand to me. I heard the music shift to a slower pace. The song couldn't have been more appropriate.

I guide her to the dance floor. Now, she looks confused, so I place her left hand on my shoulder and take her right hand into my left. Last to take its position was my right hand on her waist. She hesitates a bit as I gently prod her movements. "I haven't danced in a long time..." she murmurs as she follows my lead. She's blushing. It's easy to see since she opted not to wear make up tonight. "This is nice." Her voice is soft in my ears as she sings the lyrics in chorus with the band's lead singer.

"You give your hand to me, and then you say 'Hello'..."

The lights choose that moment to dim. I look down on her to read her reaction, but instead, I come face to face with her who has chosen to check on my facial expression as well. Our eyes meet and we stare at each other unabashedly for a moment that should have lasted forever. I see so many things in her eyes and my heart skips a beat when I come to terms with what those things were telling me.

"And I can hardly speak, my heart is beating so..."

There is happiness in those eyes. I see so much happiness and an overflowing love. She is happy being with someone she cares about deeply. I strikes me as odd that she could be happy that way while dancing with me. And then, the reality dawns on me. She loves me.

And then, there was sadness. There was a deep sadness that speaks of dreams that could never be fulfilled.

I subconsciously pull her closer. She leans her head on my shoulder. I feel her hands tightening their grip on my shoulder and hand. It's almost like she doesn't want to let go. I push the small of her back so she is even closer to me. I murmur my feelings, half hoping she wouldn't understand, and half wishing she would, "I love you."

She lifts her head from my shoulder and meets my gaze. Our faces are so close that they could touch with only a slight movement. I see the understanding in her eyes. "I know." Then, the sadness overwhelms the happiness, but it cannot overwhelm the love.

The song ends and a familiar tune plays. Someone has a thing for "My Bestfriend's Wedding". There is no other explanation as to why "The Way You Look Tonight" immediately followed "You Don't Know Me".

I remember her telling me how much she loves that song. How she would love to hear it sung to her. She closes her eyes and sways to the music, enthralled.

Just as the lyrics begin, a hand taps my shoulder lightly. "May I cut in?"

Gods, no! I remove my hand from her waist and pass her hand to the newcomer. "Of course," I graciously step back as her arms instinctively wrap themselves around his neck after they lost contact with me.

I see the look in her eyes.


She is happy. She is as happy to be with him as she was happy to be with me. There is a love in her eyes that matches the love that she showed as she stared up at me only minutes before. The sadness I detect is carefully masked. A sadness of dreams that would never be fulfilled.
I step back even further. I take my seat on the table I will share with them later. I see them. They are perfect. People watch them and dream. They are the dream that has been fulfilled.
And, yes, that is how I will remember her. That is how I will think about her. The way she looks when she is in his arms.


I sing the last few bars of the song.

"Just the way you look tonight."