Dance of Life

We were a little late to the gig, Paul and myself.  We slipped in and took a table right up front.  Chris glanced over, surprised to see me with someone, but quickly looked away as if he didn’t care.  Or could it be he cared so much that he couldn’t bear to look?  My first thought was the former, and I felt an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach to think my feelings for him weren’t returned.    Paul and I were together for the first time in months, and I don’t think either one of us was quite sure what the other person wanted.  Soon it became apparent we still were attracted to each other.   As the glasses of Chardonnay went down smoothly, the electricity between us began to show to the rest of the world, including Chris.   Was it just my imagination, or did all the songs seem to turn to ones about cheating?  Nah, that’s a standard topic in bluegrass, don’t be silly.  A reminder in the back of my mind went off like a bell – I’d never been wrong about his purposeful choice of songs before.  Why would I be wrong now?  Chris’ voice seemed to grow louder, and it suddenly seemed directed at me.  Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I could see him glaring at us.  The set ended and Chris stormed by our table with a hard sideways glance.  No mistaking it, he’s angry for sure.  Thankfully, Paul was oblivious to this nonverbal exchange, and I excused myself from the table.1

I found Chris out by his truck, smoking feverishly.   “What?!”  he asked me angrily when I approached.  “What’s wrong?” I asked meekly.  “WHAT’S WRONG?!     2

It didn’t take you long, did it?”  “Chris…” I didn’t know what to say.  How could I explain that everything I did, everything I do, was for his attention and his love?   Tears welled up in my eyes and I could feel my lip begin to tremble.  He looked away in disgust, and I stood there uncertain of what to do next.  I took a step behind him and put my hands on his waist.  Being physical always came naturally to us.  He stood his ground – didn’t make a move into me, but didn’t push me away either.  Was it my imagination or did I feel him soften under my touch?  I was scared as hell, but I knew this might be our last chance to say what needed to be said.  “Chris, I love you.”  “It doesn’t seem like you love me.”  “You know I need to end my marriage the right way.”  “ARE you going to end it?  Should I wait for you?  Or do I need to get on with my life?”3

The pressure, accompanied by the sudden realization that he loved me too--as much as I had ever hoped-- was more than I could bear.   I fell to the ground sobbing.  Before I knew it, Chris was sitting besides me, holding me and rocking me while my tears poured down his shirt.  4

“Please wait for me.  I promise we’ll be together,” I said minutes later when my tears waned.  “Please don’t hurt me,” he begged.  “I love you too much to wait in vain.”  I giggled and sang softly, “I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna wait in vain” – the famous reggae song by Bob Marley.  We looked in each other’s eyes the sheepish way we always do, and I knew in that instant we’d forever be soulmates.  “Will you marry me?” I asked him, partly joking but meaning it inside.  “Yes,” he answered seriously.  “Then I promise it will be.”  5

I cried tears of joy as he sang “Dance the dance of life with me, walk down the aisle to eternity” directly to me.  I smiled through my tears knowing that someday I would do just that.  He smiled back knowing the same thing.  And the sun set behind the band on that beautiful fall day.6

©Teresa A. Brogden, October 20027