Tuesday, 4 January 2011

El Tango

The room was dark, smoky, warm, crowded; she wasn’t entirely sure why she was here…or how she got here. Like the beginning of a dream, it felt like she was asleep. Maybe she was. Shadows, people she didn’t know if she could just remember something.

She couldn’t really see much- there was a dancefloor, a band was playing on the stage- it looked like some sort of social evening. Maybe she should get a drink- try to piece it together at the bar.
As she turned to head to the bar, she walked straight into his chest.
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry”
He didn’t speak, his face totally obscured by his hat, the shadows covering the rest.
He wore a sharp pinstripe suit but that was all she could make out- more embarrassed about not watching where she was walking.

She moved to walk around him but he stepped to block her path, she looked up and in one move he grabbed her wrist, he held it firmly and began to pull her in the opposite direction.
This really did feel like a dream, things like this don’t happen in real life.

As she looked around the room, to try and call out- she realised no one was watching, they were sat in groups or couples and they were totally absorbed in what they were talking about- she wondered if they even noticed her. They all looked happy, laughing and joking in the shadows of the room she suddenly realised she couldn’t understand their language.

She allowed herself to be led by him, in a dreamlike state she arrived at the dancefloor. As they reached a place he released his grip- this time he took her into hold. The band began to play a Tango.
She was a competent dancer, but for this type of dancing she didn’t know these steps. He began to dance.
“I’m sorry, I can’t Tango”
He ignored this, continuing to dance around her, the strength in his body masculine, making elegant shapes.
She felt clumsy, trying to get his attention- he wasn’t listening.
“Excuse me, I don’t know the steps”
She moved as if to leave the floor.
He blocked her as he had done before, this time taking her into hold as he began to lead.

“You don’t belong here”
She sensed anger in his words…her failure to comply with the dance only fuelled this more, the staccato steps, the speed of the movement she felt totally lost.
Lost, frustrated and still confused as to why she was here and what was happening. Yet relieved that someone knew what was happening.

“Listen to me” he whispered in her ear.
“Dance with me”.
His voice was gravelly yet strong, his direction was comforting. She allowed herself to press further into hold- her chest close against his. There was something attractive about his assertive demeanour. She was so close to him, his aroma got into her head, slowly she remembered something. A dance… small steps she learned a long time ago, bit by bit.
For every experience she had ever had there had been a lesson, growth, a step. She was feeling memories, dreams, everything she had ever experienced bringing her to this moment- flowing into her head at once- it was too much to process. She closed her eyes.

Suddenly silence.

The cackling laugher of the other people in the room stopped- they were all there, she knew if she looked they would be there but all she heard was the music...and his breathing. She opened her eyes and fixed her eyes on the dance floor- she was no longer thinking- she was connected to her partner. She could anticipate his moves and match them, the moves became fast and then slow- she extended and he directed, all the while joined at the chest, her heart beating close to his.
There was no need to think at this time- he knew the way, he was the way. All she had to do was stay in hold and dance his steps.

Saturday, 1 January 2011

Beyond the Picket Fence

Haiku for him
My brother in heart
How quickly the tide turned
I mourn for that time

My lover in heart
I could cry you a river
I wish you the best

Everyone has the ability to be multi-faceted. Of this I am quite convinced. However you wish to develop those facets is your journey, that’s the journey that you will look back on and call life.

For as many people there are in the world today, there are personalities and facets to accommodate them. It is rare that any two would ever be identical but empathy and understanding are a common place between people. Like a cut diamond, you can turn a person, and absorb them, the colours, the sparkle the many faces, like masks they cover the facet of a person and give it a personality.

Relationships are evolving.
I don’t need to meet you to understand you.

I saw your photographs and read your emails. I understood your character and through a process of questions, answers, information exchange and processing, I formed a judgement. I found your circle of friends, your family, you opened a window to your world and I stood in your garden and observed.

There are problems that surface when looking into a life and they are exactly the same as when looking into a home. You know who lives there, you know their routine. What you don’t know is what is said when the doors are locked and the windows are closed.
Like pieces of a jigsaw I filled in the blanks.
In my mind you were happy behind your picket fence and immaculate drapes……how shocking when the true fa├žade was revealed.

Information exchange is a powerful catalyst. The more you gave the more I assimilated, the more your emails stacked in my inbox, the faster I responded and the more I said…and the less reserved you became and I wanted to know, more had to know.

The diamond turned and in a flash the mask slipped. You saw my true colours, red-hot, wanton, unrestrained….you recognised me for who I was and unwittingly I had dropped all my cards straight into your lap. It had been a long time since you had seen me, and you wanted to see more- you were hungry. For a moment, our worlds touched and the connection was made.

I tried my best to remain above board, socially acceptable and proper in an attempt to twist the mask back to the time when I was standing in your garden looking in, but sadly this just increased your desire and want- ironically the harder I tried, the more it worked against me.
You wanted the Bad Girl, and she wanted you, we had come too far to ignore what we both knew. You could twist the mask with a flutter of words and my mind was transported. I could not longer stay a spectator in the garden.

We knew I couldn’t come into the house, and you couldn’t come outside, beyond the picket fence- not until the time is right for you. And that is why I had to leave.