Their Dance

They were together for what seemed like an eternity, both knew the other's thoughts because they were synced. The regard they held for one another, in the beginning, was very high and they only wanted to create happiness in the lives of their partner. The happiness was what drove their steps and desires. The music they moved to, at first, duplicated their heartbeat, but that slowly changed. Somehow one of them missed a step or forgot the beat for they tumbled and fell away from each other, him first. He went away to chase his hidden dream, a lost fantasy he could not cast away no more. He did not think she would understand the fantasy that lurked within him, so he suffocated it and diverted all his passion away from it and onto her. He did not know that his fantasy was connected to their dance, until it stopped. Did he think she could stop dancing because he did? The dance was all she knew, she danced before she opened her eyes in the morning, before her feet could be placed on the floor, her dance begun. She still dances as if he was still by her side. It is almost automatic, like breathing, she cannot rid of it because it is a part of her.

She begins her morning routine of making breakfast as if his presence still existed. It is in her imagination he is always there, sitting at the table waiting for his meal always with the warm greeting that stole her heart. After making the bed, smoothing the right side as if someone laid there the night before, she takes a shower. She leaves the shower running in anticipation of his arrival, although no one will be next. She is lonely and just wishes to be loved once more. She misses the dropped articles of clothing always left on the bedroom or bathroom floor that she had to place in the laundry basket. She yearns for the smell of cologne, the only brand he used for the past 20 years, and the multiple bottles of lotion staggered along his side of the double sink. If she can get through the morning ritual, she could focus on the rest of her day. The night is much easier to bear for they never retired together and she is too tired from her busy day to think of the dance.

He misses the dance as well but knew it was time to replace it. He did not believe it would be an easy task but needed to eliminate it for the dance. The dance was just as important to him as the fantasy he suffocated each day. He too missed her clumsy attempts not to awake him in the morning as she awoke and the floral scent of her body wash. He still made his bed each morning for she always said it made for a warm bed at night. He waited for the mumble of disapproval as he dropped his clothes where he stood in the bathroom and looked for evidence that she used his hairbrush or his razor on her legs, but all he found was emptiness.

Both kept busy to avoid thinking of the other or the absent dance. She always started the dance, gracefully slipping behind him guiding him slowly to where she wanted him to take over. He would know the cue and take over the dance sometimes, even after 20 years, unsure where to lead her. He knew her fears before she acted on them and embraced her gently. She covered the steps he always missed and balanced them as they moved. Towards the end, his mind wandered allowing other thoughts to invade their dance. Their dance was graceful, but again someone stumbled due to the missed beat. On their last stumble, he let go allowing her to fall, with no regret. He turned his back on her to embrace his new partner and as she watched him move away she saw that his feet did not hesitate, they knew every move going forward. That was the day they fell, their last dance.