The Dance That Started It All

Chapter 3: Dance Lesson Induced Pain

"I wont tell a soul, handmaid." The same frustration that filled me during the garden pressed against my temple, dying to be set loose. Especially the low, trilling way she spoke to me, full of pity for a low-life, miserable girl such as myself. She's the type of girl I hate the most: the type of girl who claps herself on the back for not spitting in girls like me's faces. She was the type of girl who confused not being an aggressor as the same as being innocent, who didn't realize complacency with mistreatment was far worse. Anna was the type of girl who thought she deserved an award for standing behind her mother as she pushed me down a flight of stairs because the Anna was only watching- therefore she couldn't be all that bad!
I shooed her out right there and then, whispering hasty requests of meeting me in my quarters at midnight. I knew I had to deal with that eventually, however I had more pressing things to do now. Gathering an armful of imported serving utensils, I hastily began setting the table- hands shaking and Finnish crystal cups teetering as I set them down.
Calm, calm. I had to least pretend to be calm, if not for anyone else's than for my own sake. I stood silent and still during lunch and then again for dinner, waiting in earnest to refill a glass and bring about seconds. There I was: the passerby in my own life- a spectator to the other women who have taken my place. The bile of betrayal burned in the back of my throat, threatening to spill out from my lips in thick spots of hatred. But there I stood again- with that inhumane level of restraint- that of some shriveled up nun in a monastery, youth drained and face long with sorrow.
I held the platter closer to my chest, knuckles bleached as white as the silver it was made from.
"Oh dear," My father mumbled into his glass, "appears I need a refill..."
"Of course," I set down the tray in favor of a bottle of amber-colored liquor, "father."
Maybe it had been my imagination, for it happened over the blink of an eye. But he appeared to flinch at the mention of it, the slight jerk of his broad shoulders. The naive part of me wanted to think it had been guilt, yet I knew better. What has been of our relationship was smothered by a drunken, stinging flood of Grey Goose.
By the time the sun had sunken below the earth and twilight, my dearest friend, had taken reign of the sky, I had completely forgotten about our deal. This was of course- until I heard the clunking steps coming down the basement's stairway.
"What in god's name-" My head shot up, and I had half a mind to beat the silly girl senseless. Forget about waking the house, I'd be dumbstruck had she not woken up the neighbors. This was a fitting start, I thought sourly as I ran a hand through my hair.
Already my feet were as cold as ice itself and I haven't even started. It was clear that she looked at it as some form of frivolous thing, akin to painting nails and gossiping in the parlor- which was fine had she had any other teacher. But dance was the one thing that left me connected to my mother even beyond her death. I felt her merry spirit when I danced, it was almost as if she herself was guiding me. And, even though it may have been selfish, it was as though I was cheapening the memories with Anna's lack of care and reverence.
But here's the thing: I had already made my bed, and now it was time to lie down. God knows if I refused now, she'd had already been whining at Helga's bedside- just as she did the first time she had corrected me. Ah-na, Ah-na, Ah-na! If anything, though, she was punctual.
No later than when the clock chimed at midnight was she standing before me, dressed head to toe in some form of gaudy evening dress. I could already feel a migraine coming on...
"Why are you- why are you dressed like that?"
"Oh, don't you adore it? All the big names are wearing this designer."
"I- you do know we're not going anywhere, right?"
"Well of course I know that! Don't be ridiculous!"
"Then why are you wearing all of that? I'm sure they could hear you in long beach when you clomp around like that!" I whispered, exasperated.
Anna's cocked her head quizzically, as though questioning why it should matter.
"Just- at least take off the shoes?"
"Okay, fine!" She crossed her arms over her chest, before begrudgingly stepping out of her black, pointed kitty heels.
"Alright, great. Now, we start with the basics: the waltz."
"Oh, can't we do something more fun?"
"You have to learn the tools before you carve a sculpture." I said to her, "Now the waltz has a one-two-three sorta step pattern-like this," I demonstrated the box-like movement, hitching my skirt for her ease.
"You must think me stupid! That's child pl-" She scoffed, doing something that resembled a drunken stumble: clumsy and slow. Just at that moment, her stupor of a dance turned into a free fall, with her feet failing beneath her.
I wrapped my arms around her the the best of my abilities, Anna's face buried in my shoulders.
"Are you okay?"
"I think I want to try that again."
She slowly pried my arms off of me and came to a stand, girlish legs shaking as she did. Somehow, she reminded me so much of a little kid- unsure and awkward. Maybe it was the twin braids or the vacant, thoughtless expression that overtakes her face, but I couldn't help but feel like I was comforting a child whose scraped their knee on the pavement.
"Alright, whenever you're ready."
And so it carried on as so, with me outlining the moves and her attempting to reciprocate. Eventually, after much instruction, her movement became more fluid and consistent, her footwork more even, and her form less tight and rigid. And in the haze of dust and static rippling through the air, I thought I saw some humanity in the girl.
"Hey, there you go!" I chuckled, "Maybe next time I'll try and teach how to spin and whatnot."
Anna's face flushed a deep crimson that matched her hair, "You think?"
"By all means, it shouldn't be too hard now that you have the general idea."
"__?"
I let out an ugly choke. She was calling me by my name. Hell, I didn't even know she knew I had a name.
"Yes?"
"Thank you, for all of this..."
"I-uh, of course."
"You see, I really wanted to impress this boy from across the way, but I knew sister also wished to court him- and then there's the girls downtown. Oh, it's all so hopeless!"
"You mean-" Oh, the letter. Guilt flooded through me like some form of lethal poison. I felt my animosity for the letter fade somewhere out of mind.
"Yes, Jack."
"He's a cad; he'd make as good of a husband as a piece of driftwood."
"I know! But when he smiles- it's mesmerizing!"
"There are many dangerous, mesmerizing things: blizzards, earthquakes. Tornadoes... But you don't see folks down in the west running towards them in hordes, do you?"
"I guess, but I- I love him!"
Chills crept down my spine at the word love. What was in a word anyway- something so beaten down and recycled. What was love? Nothing worth pursuing if that's the only way you can phrase your affection. It was so broad and overstated- something you could say to anything or anyone and have as much meaning as any other combination of words.
"I-
"Have you ever loved anyone before?"
I let out a deep sigh, " It's getting late, is it not? Maybe we should end the session for now."
"Oh, do tell!" Anna was pleading now, I could here a desperation in her tone, begging me to validate her in some way.
"I haven't loved anyone, but I hold deep affection for both my mother and my brother." The words lingered there, hanging stagnant. The radio crinkled and cracked in the silence, until finally she spoke.
"Oh." She said lamely, " I never knew you had a brother..."
"Yeah." I murmured, feeling my throat become clogged with grief, "Loved to play with danger, him. Things he shouldn't do, but did anyway to give my father a scare."
"What-" I knew the question that was to come after.
I folded my arms over my chest and turned my head. My throat stung, and words became harder to produce by the moment."I should probably try and get some sleep. I have things to do tomorrow..."
"-but"
"Goodnight." I watched her, from the corner of my eye. I watched her lips form that perfect little pout that always got her what she wanted. I watched her gaze back at me, debating whether to press. I watched her leave, taking the kitty heels with as climbed with gentle, nimble steps.
I listened to the radio whine as I tried to calm my ragged breathing.