Michaelishious - Vol. 2019

Dec. 17th: Dance like you mean it

"No! Not like that. 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, turn, then step to the side."

Michael Jackson, the famous singer and dancer, had retired and started a small business as a dance instructor. And I must say that even though he was sixty years old, he was still a very handsome man that moved himself with class and dignity.

"Let's take it from the top, guys. And remember to straighten your back, Carrie."

I blushed furiously. Why did he always have to put me in the spotlight when I did something wrong? Oh, yeah. That's right. Because I was the only one who did things wrong. All the others had been dancing for at least a couple of years, and were constantly rolling their eyes at my stumbling attempts to follow the choreography. And Michael was probably very tired of correcting my chubby, unfit posture. Why I'd decided to start dancing at the age of forty-three, was a completely different question. I guess I just had to fulfill one of the dreams I had as a little girl. And now, having a major midlife crisis and trying to find back to my old self after a failed marriage, I found that dancing would be just as therapeutic as it was good exercise. I wasn't so sure right now, though. And I was absolutely positive that Michael was the one who would need therapy, after getting such a hopeless member in his class. But he never said anything.

"There. And then slide, slide and stop. Very good. Dance like you mean it!"

I knew he was talking to the others, because I didn't manage to do anything even remotely close to a double slide across the floor. But he proceeded like nothing, and tirelessly kept giving instructions and encouraged each and every one of us to do a little better next time.

"I think we should take it all from the beginning one last time, and then add the pirouette at the end. Ready?"

It wasn't really a question, because he'd already turned on the music. And I tried my best to copy his moves, and actually managed pretty well except for the sliding part. But even though he was the oldest in the room, and almost twenty years older than me, he still ruled the dance floor, and did every single dance move so smooth and effortlessly that I was stunned.

"Carrie? Can I have a word with you?" he asked, when we were about to gather our stuff and say goodbye. And I immediately felt nervous. Extremely nervous.

"Sure," I answered as calmly as I could, and slowly walked to where he was standing with his back towards me.

"Why are you here?" he asked, and turned to me. I swallowed and felt my cheeks flush red in embarrassment.

"You want me to quit," I said with a voice that was merely a whisper, and I suddenly felt both misplaced and humiliated. But Michael raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

"No! Not at all. I'm just curious to what made you want to start to dance. What inspired you?"

"You did," I said, being completely honest.
"When I was a little girl, I used to watch your concerts and imagine how it felt to dance like that. And I know it's too late for me to learn much and that I don't have any talent in this, but I still wanted to get the chance to feel it. Or... Something similar, at least."

I giggled, but in reality I felt so sad that I was close to tears. I didn't belong here.

"That's not true," he said, and looked so intently at me that I had to look away to keep myself from crying. I didn't want to humiliate myself more than I already had.

"You never get too old to dance. And you never get too old to learn something new. Remember that, Carrie."

I nodded, but didn't trust my voice enough to speak.

"I want to show you something," he said and put on the music again. But instead of the upbeat rhythm of the songs we used to dance to, Dean Martin's voice filled the air as he started singing 'Innamorata'. And Michael reached out his hand to me, asking for a dance with his eyes only. And I took it.

*

*

"Close your eyes," he said lowly and pulled me closer by my left hand, then placed his arm around my lower back.

"Listen to the music and feel with your heart. Don't think about what to do or where to move your feet. Just follow my lead."

A bit reluctant and still very nervous, I closed my eyes and clumsily let him move me through the room, feeling as though someone had lifted me up on a cloud that slowly rocked from side to side and in lazy circles, in the rhythm of the beautiful song. I was floating. And I couldn't recall being held like this before. Of course I had danced with my ex-husband, and also danced with other men, but none of them could compare to this.

"Breathe, Carrie. Relax and let go of whatever it is that's holding you back," he whispered into my ear, as if not to disturb the music. And slowly, I managed to do like he said, and got surprised by how natural it felt. I'd been close to him before, when he'd corrected my hopeless posture countless of times, but it was nothing like this. He was lifting me up to a level I'd never been before, and there was no other way to describe it than magic. My hand felt so good in his, and his scent filled my nostrils. And both that, and the way he made me relax, made me take deeper, slower breaths as we slowly moved across the floor.

*

*

The music changed, but it was still the same comforting voice from Dean that spoke to us. And the more I let myself go, the better I felt what Michael was trying to show me. Music wasn't about technicalities and focusing on how to do things right or wrong. It was about how it felt. And now he guided me with more passion, and arched my back as he gently dipped me backwards. And the rush of feelings when I came back up, made me spontaneously giggle. But even though I wanted to see him and figure out what he was thinking, I kept my eyes closed. I wasn't brave enough to meet his gaze just yet. This was all too new to me. Too fragile.

The strides we took were bolder, more earth-winning, and when I felt his cheek against mine, I blushed and stopped breathing. But only for a short moment, because now I knew that I could only feel this way when I relaxed. And I didn't want this feeling to go away for anything. I felt high. And I knew my smile was the widest it had been in a long while. Maybe even years. Then the third song came on, and the lyrics made my heart flutter in a way that made me giggle again, and I bit my lip to try to hide my ridiculousness. It was surely only coincidental, wasn't it?

*

*

Michael started to hum along with the music, and I sighed in happiness. But when the choirs came for the second time, he slowed down and made me open my eyes. And then he sang the lyrics while he bore his beautiful, brown eyes into mine.

"I didn't plan to fall in love with you. It just happened that way."

The music played on, but we stopped. And to me it felt like the whole universe had stopped with us. My entire body was trembling and tingling, and my mouth hung open while I blinked my eyes, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. But when I saw his rosy cheeks, and the way he licked his lips and moved closer, I knew he didn't. And when our lips met in the softest, lightest kiss, I felt an intense warmth spread through my body, and made me struggle to breathe. But then he pulled back, and I immediately started longing for more.

"You never get too old to learn how to dance, Carrie. And you never get too old to fall in love."

And the amount of love and emotions in his eyes told me exactly what he meant. Then he kissed me again. And this time, he never stopped.