Page 26 of Geordie

Geordie

Lilyfindsmeachair at the edge of the dance floor. I lean my crutches nearby and scoot another chair to prop my leg. Lily fetches me a glass of whiskey and I’m relieved to be off my feet.

The DJ spins the first tune as people flock to the dance floor, including Lily. She dances with girlfriends, a few guys, anyone who steps in front of her. All that time, Lily's gaze finds me. I nod and she smiles back while bopping her head and mouthing the words to the song.

During our ride to the hotel, our conversation was about work or other bland topics people discuss to be polite. I waited for her to volunteer more information about herself. I still have no idea if she's married or has someone in her life. She wears no jewelry, something that might be common for someone who works in a kitchen.

I promised myself I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize our new relationship until we bantered on the curb in front of the hotel. I couldn't help myself. I wanted to be near Lily, close enough to inhale the scent of her skin. It would have led to a kiss if the parking attendant hadn't intervened. I wonder what she thought of that almost-kiss? She showed no sign if she was flattered or offended.

I almost left the party when the event turned into a surprise birthday celebration, but I reversed my decision the minute Lily opened the garment bag to reveal the schoolgirl uniform. How could I miss that bit of live fantasy to go unobserved? But that meant wearing a costume. Lily volunteered to search the long tables to find ’90s clothes for me. Now I’m lounging by the dance floor in an oversize T-shirt, jeans, and a pair of Converse. I wear that along with the baseball hat turned backwards, gold chain, and dark glasses for my costume.

She’s still dancing as another person cuts in. I can't watch her all night, hoping she'll feel sorry enough to spend time with me. I'll ask her to dance. It won't be real dancing, mostly me tottering on this boot and hoping to stay upright. I get to my feet, take one crutch, and hobble towards her. She catches sight of me and breaks from a group.

“What are you doing? I thought you'd stay off your feet while we're here. You need to give your leg a chance to heal.”

I grin, warmed by her concern. “I want to celebrate with you instead of you taking care of me. It's no way to spend your birthday.”

She throws her head back, laughing. “Nothing could ruin my birthday tonight. I'm here with all the people I care about and listening to the music I love.”

I gather my courage to ask the question. I'll need to scream over the music to be heard. Too risky, the music could stop at any moment. I lean in to say it into her ear. “Would you dance with me?”

She cocks her head to the side as she scrutinizes my expression, trying to determine if I'm serious. “Do you think you're up to it?”

This is the second time she's questioned my strength. To show she hasn't offended me, I smirk. “I'll be fine. I wouldn't ask otherwise.” Resting my crutch against my side as I slip my hands around her waist, lifting her off her feet so her eyes are level with mine, I say, “It would appear my strength is intact.”

“Okay, Samson, you've proved your point. Put me down and we'll dance.”

I take my time letting her slide down my body. Her eyes lock on mine, a reluctant smile crossing her lips until her feet touch the floor. I signal to a server to hold my crutch. He grabs it from me, then stands guard with it by the wall.

Lily's chin tilts up, waiting for me to begin. I take her hands, urging them around my waist, then I rest my hands on her hips. The DJ must be an observant man because he stops the fast song that's playing, scratching the record for effect, to the loud moans of the other dancers. Savage Garden'sTruly Madly Deeplyplays and the dancers settle into the slower music.

I bury my face in the sweet fragrance of her silky hair as we shift our weight from side to side, singing, meaning every word.

It's just like a school dance when you have your eye on that one lovely who barely looks at you. When you finally have the nerve to ask for a dance, it's like the happiness of a thousand days in heryes. This dance with Lily is the same happiness when I was twelve at my first school dance.

“Is the party all you wanted it to be, lass?”

“Yes.” The answer is soft, and I can feel the warmth of her breath on my chest. It feels good holding her like this, even if it's in the middle of a crowded dance floor.

The song ends as another slow one begins. More dancers fill the floor as the light dims and we're moving in the semi-darkness, illuminated by small pinpoints of light throughout the space, like a nightclub.

We shift from side to side until the song ends. There're a few seconds while the music reaches its end, but no song replaces the last one. Lily drops her hands, looking up at me. I hold her for as long as I can, hoping that another song will begin.

“Will you all join me in around a happy birthday?” The DJ leans into the microphone, projecting his deep baritone to begin the song, supporting the tentative voices joining in until everyone in the room is singing a full-throated rendition of the birthday song.

Soft lights replace the semi-darkness. Two servers roll in a birthday cake ablaze with sparklers. When the gathering enthusiastically sings the last chorus, they present the cake to Lily.

Molly wedges herself between us, breaking my hold. She's doing a wee bouncing dance at the sight of Lily's cake. The annoying woman motions to the DJ to hand her the mic. She faces her friend. “All the people who love you are here to celebrate your birthday.”

Molly takes Lily's hand, my presence forgotten as I fade further into the shadows.

“We have a surprise for you. The person who worked the hardest to put this together, who personally invited all your family and friends, made sure the venue and theme were perfect for your birthday to celebrate in a style that you'd absolutely love.”

A man enters from a side door, striding confidently through the guests toward Lily. He's not in a ’90s costume like the rest of the party. He looks more like a pretentious arse in a dark Italian suit.

There's a sharp intake of breath as Lily's hand flies to her mouth. I half expect her to do a bouncing dance, squealing over the man who made this possible for her. I don't understand. She doesn't run to him; her eyes fill with bewilderment, then annoyance.

The crowd applauds, and there are some slapping him on the back, thanking him, as he draws nearer to Lily.

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