Because the Night

that won't do

Silence fell at the end of the last song, then quickly, laughter. Couples broke apart and clapped to congratulate themselves on hours of their feet learning new patterns. A language that was not useful, maybe, for going places but quite useful in expressing the secrets of the body, in telling them to other people without words.

The class stared at their teacher. Fawning. Tell me how I did, they seemed to ask, and one man really did ask. "So, will you tell my wife I'm not a hopeless case?" The man's name was Bud. Actually, it was Roger, but his dad — a drunk — frequently forgot his name and called him Bud, and it stuck, because he was indeed a friendly person.

Only Lily couldn't look up at Diego, afraid of what she'd find now that he had seen her. Her leaden feet. Her hips that swayed when she thought about it but didn't move on their own. And what is dancing if you're always thinking of every move?

Surely on Diego's face was an answer about what she was. She didn't want to know.

So she walked away toward her mother, who was — was definitely — staring right into the eyes of her partner. But her right hand didn't go with her. It was caught in his left hand.

"Wait," he said, tugging her back. He smiled. "What did you think?"

She ran her hand through her hair to see if the gesture would unlock a tumbling thought, something clever preferably. Nothing.

"I thought it was fun."

He raised an eyebrow. "If you think that is fun, wait till tomorrow. Somersaults."

She must've looked shocked because he quickly burst out laughing. "I'm kidding! You can't time a somersault to tango. But come here, I need to tell you something."

She took a step closer. He was smiling. Was this a smile she should walk towards or go away from — the lake, so cool and so. near. It would never love her back but would burn her either.

"What?" She asked. He reached out and touched her t shirt. A band shirt she got in high school, now tattered. He put the short sleeve between his finger and for a second he grazed her skin. He'd been holding her arm firmly all morning  but something about that flutter was enough to knock her down. She reached for the chair and tried keep her stony expression knit together.

"It's a cute shirt. But if going to dance with me, this won't do," he said.

"My shirt?"

"None of it," he said.

"So, you want me to be....naked?"

He laughed. But she wasn't trying to be funny. Or even flirtatious. She was nervous, and didn't know what he meant.

"No, although....never mind. I want you in a dress. Come to room 601 this evening. After dinner. I'll be there."

She nodded. "It's a date," she said. "not like that. I mean. It's just an expression."

He flicked his wrist in a goodbye, like he was waving her away before she could embarrass herself more. Dates! Dancing naked! What was it about this man that turned Lily's mind toward only one subject?

The fact that she'd spent the last hour with his body pressed against hers didn't help. She had been piecing together what she knew about him. His name was Diego. His arms were like a mountain range of peaks and valleys. When she pressed against him he was like a plank. There was a chance he could read her mind but that was a hypothesis she was still testing.