On The Floor

The evening was nearly over, and the band began to play slower tunes as it neared the end of its set. Anna was tired, her corsage wilted, and the dress she had saved six months for was now the most uncomfortable thing she had ever worn. Actually, it was the most uncomfortable thing she had ever worn before the night began, but she would not let herself believe it. The money invested in it and the way it made her look kept her from acknowledging the fact. Now, as the evening dwindled, her fatigue and disappointment made the truth much more convenient.

Anna had begun the night with hope and excitement. She entered the ballroom with wide eyes and a light heart, remarking to many that she had never seen the place decorated with such abundance of color and brilliance of light. She looked around the room at the dozens of potential dance partners, her heart fluttering as she spied some she knew and many more strangers. At the outset, every one of them seemed handsome and charming.

The shoes Anna had chosen were, while an excellent aesthetic complement to her dress, quite inadequate for the pounding her feet took that evening. She barely had time to breathe as she danced with partner after partner, whirling and trotting for most of the evening. She had danced much, but the dances were all rather disappointing. Her hopes for the evening had been much higher.

Anna wanted to meet a good dancer tonight. So far, this wish had not been fulfilled. She had encountered technically good dancers with no sense of style. They were rather stiff, robotic even. She had even seen one of them counting steps, making sure he kept the routine intact. They looked good, but their hearts were far from the floor, trapped by method and devoid of feeling.

There were also a few freelancers who did as they pleased, causing her to come perilously close to other couples on the floor. While exciting, they were unsafe, and she couldn't enjoy dancing when she had to be constantly looking for the next potential collision. Such dancers were pure excitement, but the excitement was more akin to being robbed at gunpoint than the thrill of vigorous, synchronized dance.

Now she had lost the hope of finding the dancer that would make the whole evening, and, perhaps, many evenings hence, fulfilling. She headed to the punch bowl, hoping to console herself with a cup or two.

That's where he met her. With politeness of tongue and gesture, he asked for a dance. She granted his request. He was different. He was strong, but agile. The hand on her back was gentle but firm, guiding her with perfect timing to precise locations on the floor. He was technically proficient, obviously a serious student of the art of dancing. But he was far from an automaton, improvising steps that led, not to near collisions, but to a whirling, gliding, exhilarating spectacle for the other dancers and wallflowers. He was a perfect blend of method and madness. It was as though he had invented dance, and knew just how to use it.

She had never danced so. While she was in constant motion, she was not dizzy. Though her heart raced, she did not feel fatigue. This was why she had come tonight. Where have you been all night? she thought. And then she remembered.

This Johnny-come-lately was not a latecomer at all. He had been there all evening. Anna now recalled that he had been the first to request a dance of her that evening, but she had lied to him, saying she had already saved the first dance. She had seen him approaching on several occasions, but tried to look away or grab for a nearer partner when she realized he was headed her way. He just didn't seem like the type she wanted to dance with. He was not what she had expected, though. She had wasted nearly the entire night because she wasn't willing to accept his offer. What a fool I am, Anna thought, that I'd let my preconceived notions deceive me.

Anna tried hard not to think about how the song would soon end and the evening with it. This was the last dance, and the only instance during which she felt her time on the floor worthwhile. She tried to savor the joy while it lasted without fearing the end.

The music, though, had stopped hours ago. The stage was empty along with the ballroom. All the others had gone, and Anna and her partner still danced. She did not need the band or the audience. She only needed him.

If you're interested, there is more information about:
The most important event of all time and
The most important Book of all time.

email this message to a friend   |   DW Home

Contributed byStephen F. Pizzini
Comments/Feedback are welcome.
Visit Steve's Web site: http://www.stevepizzini.com/