The woman who dances with me
This, what I will tell you, is a recurrent dream that had made company to not few of my nights.
Will give you only a fragment of it, no more is possible.
It was once simpler, when young.
And had become more and more complex along time. Like life.
Ages, music and specially the women who were important to me are seen not always simultaneous, but as if time were a viewpoint.
The verb tenses can and will be as biased as what was perceived.
Only the core of the story keeps it's internal coherence. And is a search.
I am in a party or something that looks and specially sounds like.
The music is the one of my generation, even when scenes includes me older.
Fun group and fad dances had finished. Is time for slow dancing, embraced one.
I walk from somewhere to nowhere looking for someone I should know well but I don't.
My wife, my lover, my girlfriend, my date. Perhaps only a friend and, sometimes, dance partner.
I am so sure that I will recognize her that the problem is no other than to explore and find out where she might be. She is waiting for me, we will dance, that is clear in my mind.
I have a strong and strange perception on the background of my mind.
That each one of my steps took seconds but consumes years. And that life is going on, just there.
On an enriched sequence of stories, each one started by joy and closed by pain, I found the women of my life.
With each one there was something that was called love. The hope of love, perhaps. The will of love.
And we danced, yes we did. With slow music at dance floor, with passionate whispers when alone.
And, each time and with each one, our dance ended earlier than the music.
For different reasons and, even so, for the same reason.
Tired and confused, I took an empty chair with an empty glass on each hand.
No more to celebrate, no more to drink for.
Looking at dancers, some eyes sent messages to me. But did it from over the shoulder of their partners and I declined the dubious honour.
For a while, got tempted to dance with a close friend of mine.
We had been so much years next to each other that some thought we had always been secret lovers.
But I know she loves me as a woman loves a man, she told me so after 40 years.
And I could never feel the same deeply enough.
Dancing with her would, perhaps, fill my needs and her needs for a night.
But if I fool myself saying to her while dancing the true "I love you" of a friend, I would be lying to her with the meaning that, while dancing with me, she will hear.
A bad friend can never make a good lover.
I stand up and began to walk my way out. Was enough party for a night, for a life, for a man.
Not far from the door, a woman was in middle of a circle, mostly men. She took my attention and I got nearer to listen to her words.
Talking to all but looking at me, she asked with the strength of an open untold spell: "...what do you want ?". But she were asking, as I knew, other hidden question to each one: "who are you ?"
My answer was the only one not discarded, but she took some time to decipher what was hidden on it's direct simplicity.
In words other than told here, what I said and also asked was "would you dance with me ?". Between some reluctancy and surprised willing, she accepted.
When our bodies meet, we began to follow a music of our own and same one for both.
You may call it love. But is something that never was before.
We are not going to stop dancing, lifetime.
My seacch is over, I found her.
For Cynthia, my One love