She nodded and set her wine glass down.
They stood up. His hand cupped hers against his
chest and they began swaying to the romantic music. He leaned back and looked at her. “So where
did you learn to dance?”
“Mrs. Hill’s Dance Academy. My parents made me
attend ballroom dancing classes.”
“Ah . . . and what was that like?”
She laughed. “Well, after I mastered the box step,
it was still pretty awful. Mrs. Hill, a very sophisticated matronly woman, made
all the girls sit in chairs along the side of the dance floor. Then she would
instruct the ‘young gentlemen’ to choose a partner. I remember sitting there in
this stiff white organza dress my mother bought for me, wearing black patent
leather flats, waiting for some boy to ask me to dance. It was dreadful because
even then in the sixth grade you were so afraid you’d be
a wallflower. How about you? Where did you learn to dance?”
“Ten years of an all-boys Catholic school which
included etiquette and dance classes took care of that.”
They danced slowly to the seductive Latin rhythms of
Jobim’s music.
“I’d like to hear how you became a writer.”
She smiled. “I was fourteen when I wrote my first
short story. I couldn’t sew – I was terrible in home economics, couldn’t even
sew a straight seam. I wasn’t athletic. There really wasn’t anything I was good
at but writing. Like you wanting to be an officer in the Army, I never thought
of being anything but a writer. I was a terrible romantic.”
He nodded. “Poetry, romance, it’s the stuff we live
for.”
One solitary lamp lit the living room and the music
beckoned one more dance. They swayed to the strains of yet another love song.
Ava jolted herself out of her reverie. “We should
go,” she said, hoping she sounded brisk. “I have an early morning appointment.”
Jay pulled back. “Ok.”
She moved across the room to switch off the living
room lamp. She turned and looked at him. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t want to give
the wrong impression.”
He smiled. “Better grab a coat. It’s getting cold
outside.”
“Shall we dance?” Jay smiled, holding out his hand.
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