Dancers in Life.

A chance encounter on a ‘Park n Ride,’ led to this story.

DANCERS IN LIFE.
They intrigued me from the moment they boarded the ‘ Park’n’Ride’ bus. It was late afternoon and the evening rush hour was just starting. The bus was crowded with shoppers leaving the city for the out of town car park.. With all the shopping bags there was very little room between the seats and the two woman smiled apologetically at me as they took their seats facing me. The bags they were carrying indicated that they had been shopping at the better end of town.
The eldest, whose name I later overheard as being Gwen, appeared to be in her middle thirties with short cropped auburn hair, brown eyes, and a good complexion with very little make up. Her companion was much younger, in her early twenties with straight black hair cut and waved in at the neck, and hazel eyes emphasised and enlarged by the dark horn rimmed spectacles she was wearing. By listening carefully to their conversation, ( well what else was I, as a single traveller without any reading matter, to do?) I learned that her name was Clare. She was by far the most vivacious of the two, laughing readily and , for the most part, taking the lead in their conversation.
Gwen was more reflective and, in keeping with her age, more adult in her attitude. While Clare talked almost continually as if trying to cram a weeks conversation into a thirty minute bus ride, Gwen seemed given to moments of introspection during which she would simply stare out of the window beside her at the darkening streets and buildings as they flashed past us. It had begun to rain and I sensed that in some way this suited her current mood.
I wondered what their true relationship was? Their age difference, only a decade or so at the most, ruled out them being mother and daughter. They could have been sisters but somehow I didn’t think so. At one point Clare, without even breaking the flow of her chatter, took off her glasses to give them a polish with a white handkerchief, and I realised there were no sisterly similarities in their features. I therefore assumed that they were simply friends sharing an afternoons shopping trip into town.
Nonetheless there was something intriguing in their relationship, a closeness and warmth that seemed to go beyond simple friendship. It was evident in the way they looked at each other, (when Gwen wasn’t staring forlornly out of the window,) and in the way they seemed to need only the slightest hint, odd word, or half sentence to understand each others meaning entirely. In that way, I realised, they were very similar to Sandra and myself.
I too glanced often out of the window, and studied my hands and shoes far more closely than I have ever done before in order to disguise the fact that, as the journey went on, I was listening ever more closely to what they were saying.
They had recently been to the theatre together. A rather controversial play it appeared which Clare had enjoyed, but Gwen had found a little obtuse and difficult to understand. I formed the opinion that she didn’t really want to understand it!
“But the whole point is,” Clare emphasised, “ That people do live their lives in separate compartments don’t they? Most of us don’t make any real contact with each others lives at all do we?. We experience other peoples lives as if they’re images on a television screen, or even actors on a stage. I felt that was what the writer was saying.”
“I didn’t get the feeling he was talking to me at all,” Gwen protested quietly. It was at this point that Clare began polishing her glasses.
“I don’t mean you and me, but most other people. Society is breaking down into smaller and smaller units. At one time people had all manner of relatives and friends they could relate to, but now people live in little units that never connect. Look how many people die alone and sometimes its days before even their closest neighbours know that they’ve gone. It’s very sad really and that was the point of the play…well at least I think that‘s what I thought was the point.”
She suddenly laughed. “ I suppose it was really a little confusing. The character made up to look like a vampire who kept prancing about in the auditorium didn’t really help did he?”
Gwen nodded and also smiled at the recollection. “No he didn’t, well not for me anyway. I suppose it was what they call ‘experimental theatre’, but at least you enjoyed it didn‘t you?”
“ Yes I did really. I mean sometimes it pays to look at things in a different way. It’s like, …well it’s like when you move a picture from one room into another, or even onto a different wall so that the light strikes it in a different way. You see things in it you hadn’t noticed before. See it with different eyes really.”
Gwen murmured “ I suppose you do…. if you are able to move it into a new room that is. John doesn‘t like me moving anything without asking him first! Mind you he never asks me why I want to move it. Just expects me to ask his permission first.”
Her words seemed to strike a different chord between them, perhaps even a painful one. Clare’s smile, which I found an attractive one, disappeared. She replaced her glasses and, reaching across her bags, took hold of her friends hand.
“You’ll probably enjoy the weekend once you get there,” she said, but Gwen glanced out of the window, and shook her head. The traffic in this part of town was so heavy the bus was moving almost at a crawl.
“ I don’t think so. It will be all John’s friends from work, and for the most part I never really understand anything they’re talking about. It’s not that I’m stupid or anything, ….I’m just not interested.”
“Will none of their wives be there that you can talk to?”
“ A few but I’ve nothing in common with any of them either. For the most part they talk about their children, and I’ve none I can talk about. Usually I just let the whole weekend wash over me, read a book, and think about something else.”
Clare’s response was barely more than a whisper. “Think about me then.”
If I hadn’t been watching them at that point I would have missed what happened next, and then who knows what direction my own life might have taken!
Clare suddenly giggled, leaned across the space between them, and rested her head onto her friends shoulder. Gwen turned towards her and brushed a kiss onto her forehead. Not a passionate kiss, but the briefest display of something more than friendship; and I realised with a shock the true nature of their relationship.
And I felt again the soft pressure of Sandra’s lips on mine.
*********************************************
We had been friends since we were at school together. Perhaps an unusual friendship in some ways because we were so dissimilar in character. Sandra was always the go ahead one, whereas I tended to hold back and take the second place. I often thought that any friends I had were only my friends because that gave them access to her. I couldn’t blame them of course because she was very attractive. People, especially men, just liked being around her., although sometimes she treated them with appalling indifference. From our childhood she had been the one who excelled at sports, and anything on the practical side of things, whereas I was always happier with a book, or something academic.
At university our paths did diverge slightly, although we still remained close friends. She took Business Studies while I took English, and afterwards, when she started to climb the corporate ladder, I went into teaching. We had this rather silly undeclared race between us; would she make it into a boardroom before I made it into a headship?
It was silly because there was never going to be any other winner but her!
“Don’t you want to reach the top?” she had asked me only a few months earlier when I told her I had no intention of even applying for a vacant head of department position.
“No.” I replied quite simply and quite happily. She had shaken her head and looked at me as if I was beyond any normal persons reasoning or understanding.
“Is it that you don’t think you’re qualified enough? Because, if so, that’s absolute poppycock. I don’t know anyone better qualified than you to run an English department, or any other department, or school, for that matter. You’ve twice as many letters after your name as I have, and I’ve seen you with the kids. They almost kiss the ground you walk on; even the most difficult ones. You say yourself you’re able to relate to them when nobody else can reach them. What is the matter with you? Do you always want to be second best?”
“Well thank you for that. Don’t worry about hurting my feelings will you?” I tried to continue smiling but it had actually hurt. Realising this she softened her approach and tried another tack.
“Is it the responsibility you’re afraid of? Is that it?”
It had been my turn to shake my head. “It’s none of those things, and I’m certainly not afraid of responsibility either.”
“Well what is it then? I don’t understand.”
“It’s that I’m perfectly happy as I am. I’m not like you always looking for the next mountain to climb, the next great prize to be won and put into my trophy cabinet. I’m perfectly happy paddling along the river bed picking up a few shells here and there.”
“ May I remind you,” she had stated in her best ’I’m saying this for your own good’ voice, “ That you’ve just got yourself engaged. When you’re married that means you have responsibilities for somebody else’s happiness besides your own and you’ll need more than a few shells from the river bed to meet those and make the marriage work!”
Her reference to my recent engagement brought the conversation to an abrupt end. It was typical of Sandra to be so forthright, but I was left wondering whether the responsibility for making a marriage work really was frightening me?.
********************************************
Gwen began rooting into one of the shopping bags on her lap. It’s label indicated one of the most expensive fancy good shops in town. Clare was watching her with an expectant expression on her face.
“Have you lost something?” she asked.
“ No… well I hope not anyway! It’s something I meant to give you when I got back from this weekend buried away with John, and his appalling business friends, in deepest Gloucestershire.”
“You don’t have to buy me a present,” Clare protested, “ You’ll only be away for the weekend. Just try to enjoy it and come back to me afterwards.”
“ I know I don’t have to buy you anything but in this case I wanted too. I know it’s only a few days until I will see you again but I don’t expect I’ll be allowed any opportunity to go off by myself and buy you anything over the weekend and… Aha, here it is..”
She looked up. “ I want to give it you now and know that you are enjoying it while I’m away.”
She passed Clare a small bundle wrapped in fine white tissue paper. For a moment Clare stared at it nonplussed, and then her eyes slowly filled with tears.
She whispered, “ It isn’t what I think it is…is it?”
I couldn’t look away at that moment, but Gwen seemed to notice, for the first time, that I was watching them. She eyed me warily as if questioning my right to intrude, but when I smiled, she turned her head away to look out of the bus again.
“ Oh Gwen, you shouldn’t have.” Clare was exclaiming.
By now the tissue packaging had been removed to reveal a small porcelain figurine, white, and no more than three or four inches tall on a flat delicately thin base. It depicted two young female dancers, one of them kneeling on the floor as though weary and exhausted, the other bending over in a caring, solicitous pose. The features, even on so small a piece, were so beautifully defined that you immediately felt an empathy for both of them.
I couldn’t help but smile even more, and Gwen glancing back at me again, took my reaction as a sign of approval. She immediately dismissed me from her mind, and returned her attention to Clare.
“I saw you looking at it when we first went into the shop” she explained. “ I realised how much you like it…”
“It’s absolutely beautiful… I just love it. But when did you buy it?”
“ When you went in next door looking for a toilet. I nipped back in and bought it. I was dreading you would come looking for me before I could have it wrapped and get it into my bag.”
“There was a queue a mile long for the ladies… but Gwen.. the price!”
“You’re worth it, every penny of it, and you did like it didn’t you?”
“Oh God yes, of course I did. I do… even more now. Thank you so much” And without embarrassment she leaned across and pressed a kiss of her own onto Gwen’s cheek. And I recalled how Sandra’s supportive kiss onto my cheek had suddenly turned into a passionate kiss onto my lips!
*****************************************
“I’ve broken off the engagement,” I had said. “ I’ve realised it isn’t the right thing for me, for us, and I can’t go through with it.”
Sandra, because she had no husband to call on, had asked me along to make up the numbers at a dinner party she had arranged at her house for some important clients. Afterwards we were cleaning up in the kitchen and she asked me whether something was wrong.
“You’ve been really quiet all evening” she observed, “Even quiet by your standards.”
So I told her about breaking off the engagement. She was silent for a long minute, her head bowed, and concentrating on some point among the pots and pans in the sink as if they were a management problem that had suddenly landed on her desk with a memo from above telling her to solve it.
“Well say something for heavens sake,” I muttered.
“I’m wondering if you breaking it off has anything to do with me, with what I said to you the other week about marriage bringing its own responsibilities?”
I tried to laugh but it came out all wrong, like a pained cough. “ Is that what you were trying to say? I thought you were trying to make me feel inadequate.”
She looked across at me her eyes challenging me.
“Don‘t duck the issue… was it what I said?”
“No it wasn’t what you said. Well not completely anyway. Perhaps a little… Oh for heavens sake I don’t know do I? I never know how much what you say affects what I do. Sometimes I just wish you wouldn’t say anything at all. Just keep your mouth shut, let me decide for myself ….and get on with it.”
I picked up the nearest tea towel and started drying the pots. That had always been my function in our friendship. Sandra washed and polished, and I trailed along behind her drying up!
After another awkward silence she said, “ Well for what it’s worth I think you were right to break it off. From the beginning I never thought it would work, and I didn’t want to be around and watch you suffering when it all went pear shaped.”
I tried to lighten the mood a little. “So at least I…we, have your approval then?” And it worked because she laughed, and nodded.
“What was it like, breaking it off I mean?” she asked.
I told her as much as I felt I could tell her, but then thought I had probably told her more than she had any right to know. That was another long standing feature of our friendship.
“ Finally we both agreed it was for the best” I ended. Pots and pans were cleaned, dried, and stored into their rightful cupboards. Everything was neat and tidy, and in it’s proper place. So why the hell, I wondered later, couldn’t it have stayed that way?
At first I assumed it was because she recognised that the tone of regret in my voice indicated my uncertainty and unhappiness. She came to me, put her hands onto my shoulders and, looked me straight in the eye.
“ The idea that marriage is first of all a social responsibility, went out at the end of the nineteenth century. This is the twenty first century. Our first responsibility now is to ourselves, and if it was the wrong thing for you to go and get married, then you were right to break it off before either you, and in this case somebody else, got hurt.”
“So why,” I asked, “Is it hurting me so much now?”
Her arms went around my shoulders and she gave me a hug and then kissed me on the cheek. It wasn’t the first time we had physically expressed our affection for each other, but this time it was different. Perhaps she sensed how much I needed something more than mere words, but suddenly her lips had moved and she was kissing my lips.
The kiss was a passionate one, no longer the sort of kiss friends would exchange. I was stunned; for a long time unable to move, respond even, step back, or do anything. Least of all break it off. Finally it was she who took the step backwards staring at me with an expression I had never seen in her eyes before. Confused, angry perhaps, but most of all, uncharacteristically for the friend I thought I knew so well, afraid.
“Oh gawd,” she gasped turning away as if she could no longer trust herself to look at me. “ Now I’ve done it haven’t I? I’ve let you know how I feel haven‘t I, what I really want? Gawd but I never meant it to happen like that. Not when you’re on a rebound!”
“Sandra,” I asked, trying to take in what had just happened, “Why?”
“ What do you mean, …why? Why the hell do you think? Why not for gods sake… Oh no, no…please forget I said that. In fact… just forget it happened at all.”
She opened the fridge door, not because she needed anything from the fridge but because she needed to do something. Anything as long as it involved physical activity. In a corner Sandra always needed to act, do something, whereas I….
“I can’t just forget it” I gasped then, feeling totally at sea and challenged beyond my resources, I turned and went into the living room.
Her voice followed me as she slammed the fridge door shut. “Don’t just walk away from me like that.” But the act of moving away from her impelled me to keep moving. Perhaps, just once in my life, movement might lead to a solution of some sort.
“I can’t handle this,” I managed to mutter and, collecting my coat from the hallway, I left the house by the front door and walked to my car on her driveway. Getting into it I looked back.
She was standing at the open door looking alone and frightened. Vulnerability was not an aspect of her character I had ever seen before. As I got into the driving seat her voice, low and desperate, still followed after me.
“Rachel, please! Don’t go off like this… stay and talk to me.”
*******************************
“ Where will you put it?” Gwen asked. “ In your living room among all your other ornaments?” Her tone seemed to indicate some desperation as if she needed her friends reassurance. Clare was still holding up the figurine studying it, and turning it around so that the light within the bus met it at different angles.
“Oh heavens no, it’s too beautiful to be put with anything ordinary. Just look at the way it changes when you turn it around. From the front the taller figure seems to have appeared from nowhere, almost by chance, to help the one kneeling on the floor; but then, when you look at it from the back, the initiative is clearly the other way around. It’s the one kneeling who is holding on to her companions hand, as if stopping her from leaving. It‘s just so very, very sad, but in such a beautiful way.”
“So where will you put it then?” Gwen persisted.
“Beside my bed of course, then every morning when I wake up, you will be the first person I think about.”
She began to carefully rewrap it into the tissue paper and place it into one of the bags on her lap. “ I just wish I could buy you something as beautiful that you could place beside your bed so it would remind you of me.”
Gwen smiled ruefully, “It’s probably as well you can’t. I’m not a very convincing liar, and how would I explain to John where it came from? We so still share the same bed you know.”
They sat in silence for a while, holding hands and, to my eyes, sharing their own private thoughts. When they broke the silence, they seemed to confirm this. It was as if they had simultaneously decided to change the subject.
“ When are you?…” Clare began, while Gwen, for her part began
“ We’ll have …..”
Clare laughed and Gwen continued as if them both thinking the same thought was something she took for granted.
“ … to leave early tomorrow morning. John hates having to rush, and always wants to arrive long before the first working session begins. I can’t see the point myself. We can’t access the rooms until after ten o’clock, and the first session doesn’t even start until eleven.”
She pulled a face. “ It’s what they call the ’brain storming module.’”
Clare pulled a face but laughed again. “ Sounds almost painful.”
Gwen’s frown became almost rueful. “ Not half so painful as sitting in my room watching Saturday morning television, and waiting for lunch at one o’clock!”
“ Oh my poor Gwen. Look, I’ll be at home all tomorrow. I’ll phone you on your mobile between eleven and one, and we can have a good chat.”
Gwen’s features brightened up at that point. “ Oh yes, that would be lovely. I’ll probably be in need of some decent human contact by then!”
I’d considered telephoning Sandra any number of times since that night of the dinner party. Sooner or later I knew I would have to. A lifetimes friendship could not be allowed to end like that. Once or twice I’d even got myself to the point of starting to dial her mobile number, but at the last second I’d ducked the issue, and switched off. The problem was that, like Gwen, I was a useless liar. Especially if the person I was lying to was myself. Furthermore I knew that in making the call I would have to face the truth, and Sandra was right. I was afraid.
Clare continued trying to cheer Gwen up. “ And then, next Tuesday afternoon we have the Mozart recital to attend. I’m really looking forward to that.”
“ Yes,” Gwen agreed, “It should be wonderful, but would you mind if I came over to your place in the morning and we could have some lunch together before we go to the recital. John still intends going off on this promotion trip to Brussels. He’ll expect me to be at home that evening to take his call, but if I thought we would spend the whole day together it would make this weekend a little more bearable.”
I thought both Clare’s look and response were unambiguous. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t”
Gwen however had again noticed me listening to their conversation. To forestall any suggestion that I should mind my own business, I leaned towards Clare, and explained that I couldn’t help but notice and admire the figurine she had been holding.
She smiled, accepting the compliment at its face value. If she did realise I had been listening in she, equally, was unconcerned.
“ I could never have afforded to buy it for myself“ she explained.. “It’s a present from a friend.”
At that point the bus turned into the shelter beside the car park, and everyone prepared to leave.
“Well it’s very beautiful” I said.
Without embarrassment she looked at Gwen and said, “ But nowhere near as beautiful as the friend who gave it to me.”
With that they began to gather their bags, and move off the bus. I remained where I was for a moment stunned by the feeling and honesty in her words, and by the warmth in her voice. No wonder Gwen almost glowed as she too stood up, and struggled off the bus with her own bags and parcels.
‘Go for it,’ I thought, ‘ Happiness doesn’t knock twice.’
But as I followed them off the bus, and into the car park, that nagging voice that assails us all sometimes whispered, ‘ physician heal thyself!’
By the time I got into my car I was already trying to extract my mobile from my handbag. I wondered why we women can never immediately locate, in our handbags, what we are looking for?
By the time I had retrieved my mobile from underneath the other detritus, Gwen and Clare had reached their cars, parked only a few bays apart, and had each stowed their shopping bags into their respective boots.
I dialled the number automatically, then waited anxiously while it connected.
Gwen crossed over to Clare’s car to say goodbye. I could see and almost feel the tension between them now the moment of parting had arrived. Or was it my nerves waiting for the ringing tone to stop?
They were illuminated by one of the car parks halogen lamps. Like two dancers in a spotlight they came together in a single synchronised movement.
I thought, ‘If it switches to the message minder, I’ll simply hang up and hope she returns my call.”
Without any apparent embarrassment, and ignoring the rain that was still falling, Gwen and Clare embraced and kissed. Envy of their happiness overwhelmed me and I thought how lucky they were to share such a bond, such a level of understanding, and such a commitment. Then I realised it had nothing to do with luck; it was their choice in life!
The ringing tone stopped.
“Oh Rachel,” Sandra’s voice exclaimed into my ear, “ Oh thank god you’ve rung. Hold on a minute, I’m in a meeting but…”
I heard the sound of a chair being moved, heard her apologise to somebody for moving away, and then the sound of a door being closed. When she spoke again her voice was soft and close into my ear as if she was whispering into the phone.
“ I’ve been so worried about you, about us…”
“ I’m sorry I haven’t rung you earlier,” I said.
“ No, no Rachel it isn’t for you to be sorry, not after what happened. It was for me to ring you and apologise, but… I couldn’t think what I might say that would make it up to you.”
She laughed,” Now that’s a first; me unable to think of what to say! ….. I’m sorry Rachel… for shocking you like that…I really am.”
“ I wasn’t shocked, “ I murmured. “ Surprised, yes, but I wasn’t shocked.”
“ You weren’t?”
“No.”
It was time for absolute honesty. I took a deep breath.
“ I’ve had time to think and what shocks me is … that I was surprised at all…”
Gwen remained standing where she was until Clare got into her car, reversed backwards, and then drove away. The tiny wave of her hand, as well as her posture, betrayed the loneliness she was already feeling. As Clare’s tail lights disappeared between the lines of cars she turned and went back to her own car. It was a 4X4 and she climbed into the drivers seat, and then sat there for a while before starting up her engine, reversing and following Clare’ little Fiat out of the car park.
“Rachel, are you still there?” Sandra’s voice echoed into my head, and recalled me to the matter of my own loneliness.
“ Yes, I’m still here. I need to see you Sandra. Will you be at home tonight?”
Please God don’t let this be the night she has a meeting that lasts forever! But her words when she answered came in a rush,
“ In an hour. This meeting is nearly finished and I can go straight home,… or come to you wherever you are. Whichever you wish. Rachel, ….you decide.”
“ No Sandra, please… I want it to be at your place!”
I tried to make it clear in my tone what I really wanted and, for a long moment the silence was at her end. I closed my eyes and could almost hear her breathing. I could certainly feel my heart thumping. In my minds eye I could see her standing there wearing her dark business suit looking strong, certain, and in charge…. Yet not at all certain, or in charge. I bit my lip so hard it hurt almost as much as the yearning, and I thought
‘ If she asks me am I sure, I’ll scream at her!’
What she actually said was “I’ve very little food in for both of us,” and my heart rose.
They say at such moments, moments of deep happiness, people sometimes hear music, and feel like dancing; but all I heard was the hope in her voice, and all I felt was the sudden rush of love.
“Well if I’ve an hour to wait,” I said, starting up my engine, “ I’ve time to fetch enough for both of us.”
THE END.