For As Long as the Song Lasts

She turned to me with her fiery eyes, and the chandeliers above us swayed in the moonlight. I was holding onto a long steel flashlight with the setting turned to ‘dim’. In my other hand, I was holding a crumpled-up brochure for next week’s advertised activities and events. In the background were the sounds of violins and violas, coming at us from all sides. 

A voice barked at us from the shadows. “Dancers, take your marks!”

I tossed the crumpled-up brochure onto the ground and walked towards her. She was just standing there on the earth with her head turned, her body in a position of fight or flight, nothing at all held their in her hands. 

I bowed, introduced myself, and asked if she would care for a dance. Her eyeballs were no less fiery, and she replied that she wasn’t entirely sure – she would have to think about it. I replied that under normal circumstances I would have accepted this answer, but the waltz was timed and it was about to start. 

“Ready positions!”

She looked around her and said that yes, she would accept this dance. I took mu position and she walked up to me and took hold of both my hands. Her left hand fumbled with my right hand, and she remarked that it was incredibly difficult to hang on to my right hand while I was also clutching the flashlight. I replied that under normal circumstances I would have accepted this answer, but that it was a matter of life and death that I hold onto the steel flashlight and not let it fall, at any cost. There were bats in the belfry, I said. She rolled her eyes and commented, You don’t say.

“Begin the dance!”

The sounds of violin and other stringed instruments commenced, and I began leading the waltz. A few steps in, her eyes are fiery again and her brows furrowed and she was frowning. You don’t know how to dance at all, do you, she hissed. Not at all, I replied, but we must at least keep up appearances so that things don’t look suspicious to anyone. To who, she asked, looking around. I don’t see a single person dancing around us. Aye, but that’s what they want us to think, I remarked. Just keep dancing, dancing, dancing. 

I was so piss-poor at any sort of voluntary and organized movement on a dance floor that she began leading me, which I had no type of objection. The most important part was that we kept moving to the music and didn’t come off suspicious. 

She hissed in my ear that it was really damn difficult to lead me in a dance while I was still hanging onto a flashlight, and I apologized for the inconvenience. She told me to drop it, and I replied that I wouldn’t talk about the flashlight anymore. No, she hissed, drop the flashlight, it’s nearly impossible to hold onto your hand. I replied that under normal circumstances I would have – but she cut me off by swerving me around violently and dipping me down low to the ground. Is this what being a wooed woman feels like, I asked, because if so I’ll take an application. She yanked me back up and continued to begrudgingly and forcefully lead me in the dance. 

How long do we have to keep up this charade, she hissed in my ear. What do you mean, I asked. I mean, how long do we have to keep dancing and pretending like we’re enjoying it. For as long as the song lasts. And how long is that, exactly.
Some waltzes are longer than others, I said, so it’ll be impossible to know for sure. Whenever the voice says “Finis”. 

We kept at it like this for a while, round and round within that chosen circle of earth under the moonlight. I asked if she would introduce herself to me, and she replied that no, she wouldn’t. I pouted and remarked that that wasn’t exactly fair, because I had gone to the trouble of introducing myself to her. She stepped on my foot. 

The violins and other stringed instruments screeched, and gradually resumed their song once our dancing had gone back to normal. 

That was a close one, I whispered. Now you know the stakes are for real. 

Her perfume was an odd sensation to me – I couldn’t figure out if it was pleasing to me or not. At one moment it was fruity, and then misty, and another moment it smelled like dying flowers. It seemed like the closer I got to it, the more repelled I was by it. 

Your cologne reeks, she whispered in my ear gleefully. Charmed and thankful for the candor, madame, I whispered back. 

“Finis!” came the voice. 

It was as if two powerful magnets had wrenched us apart, for we separated instantly and gratefully at the voice’s cue. 

Before I had time to process, she had completely vanished from my sight. 

I carefully wiped the sweat from my hands and turned the setting on my flashlight from ‘dim’ to ‘low’.

“Dancers, take your marks!” the voice said. 

I looked around frantically. I remembered that she had not given me her name. “Hey! You! That woman!”

The stringed instruments were warming up again. 

“Ready positions!” 

My anxiety sky-rocketed and my heart was hammering. “Hello! Hey! Dancing partner, anyone?”

I held my flashlight up like a sword, the ray of light cutting through the sky. 

“Begin the dance!”

I was without a partner. The stringed instruments began playing and soaring toward me, followed by the dark beast that was cueing up the dances. I fell to the earth and tried swatting at the instruments with my flashlight. The flashlight was knocked out of my hand and the waltz continued in the darkness below the moon.