It All Started with a Lie

Chapter 8.1

Dance is the
hidden language
of the soul.
~ Martha Graham

Chapter 8.1
Her POV
I showed up to swing lessons fifteen minutes late, as I was to everything. By the time I got there, everyone had already gone inside and started the lesson. The lady at the front desk curled her lip at me as I paid the entry fee, making sure I saw the numbers on the clock. I had tried to be on time, I really had, but I didn't like my first outfit, so I had to change. And then I was out of gas, so I had to stop at the gas station. And then there was traffic, that I did not account for, and next thing I know, I am fifteen minutes late.

As I open it, the door seemed to ring out a deafening squeak, despite the blaring music—I was suddenly very glad I had remembered to bring my ear plugs. The whole room turns towards me, at least twenty sets of eyes. Their look was not one I was unaccustomed to. I smiled, scanning the crowd for my friends. Peter waved to me, ushering me over. The door slammed behind me with another cacophonous sound, letting the whole room know of my presence. I strolled over Peter, greeting him with a fist bump. His girlfriend pulled me into a hug while the instructor went on about how to perform the next step. I was a quick learner, or at least I hoped I was.

The room was separated into two circles, an inner and an outer. Leads and followers. I was most certainly a lead, however the only open position was a follower, so for tonight I guess that was me. I fell into the open spot, greeted by a man in his late seventies. He smiled, a crooked, yellow tooth smile and introduced himself. I miss Richard. She was supposed to be my partner for the night, so that we could suffer this together. Except a half hour before we were to leave, her brother got sick and with her other brother already gone and out with friends, there was no one left to care for him. So now she's stuck at home and instead of letting me join her she demanded I come tonight because it would be 'rude' to stand Peter up. So I am alone, dancing with a seventy year old man who smelled like baby powder and cigars. Thank you, Richard.

Thankfully the switch came very quickly as we rotated to the left. My next partner was a girl in my sociology class, so there was no need to introduce herself, though, because of what I assume is edicate here, she did so nonetheless. She had the sweetest voice of anyone I'd ever met. The music started again as the instructor led us through the next steps. Learning the new steps might have been easy, had I known the basics. And it turns out, I am not a quick learner because I spent the entirety of our dance staring at her feet trying to figure out where to move. She laughed at my lack of experience but happily led me through the moves with the utmost patience. I couldn't say the same about my next partner. One more introduction and his bubbly mood seemed to dissipate the second he realized I had no idea what I was doing. He only scowled at me and grumbled about my tardiness. I tried my best not to laugh in his face, but I hoped I'd ruined his day. I hope our one minute interaction, where he had to dance with an incompetent girl who couldn't bother to be on time ruined his entire day.

Anger issues were thankfully one of the few things my mother did not pass down to me and my brother, but it was something we were forced to live with. A stain on her shirt was the end of the world. We got used to it, and even started to enjoy how easily we could ruin our mother's day. Talking back, leaving our shoes lying around, dropping a glass, any minor inconvenience really. She was always upset about something, but she never did anything to try to be rid of it. Not a single thing. I'd heard many people say once there is an angry man in your home there will always be an angry man but what about an angry woman, an angry mother. Was I destined to be cursed with that forever?

I was thankful to leave the grouchy man and finally make it to Peter's girlfriend. I was surprised she didn't stick with Peter instead of rotating partners but from what he told me, she likes to meet new people and finds this to be one of the best ways. So instead Peter was rotating through the circle, currently paired with the old man who smelled like baby powder and cigars. Poor guy. "I am so glad to see you!" I sighed. "I have no idea what I am doing."