Dancing - 1. Chapter 1

This was it. My last dance in this class. The last thing I do before I leave this school. And the last thing I will do with Michael.

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I had chosen Contemporary Dance as an elective on a whim. It didn’t make sense to me at that time, and still doesn’t make sense. Why would an aspiring investment banker take a class in dancing? Still, it seemed like an easy credit.

I was worried at the start of the term when Professor Deenerman told us that we had to dance in pairs for the entire semester. Our pair would then perform a final piece at the end of the class. I was worried, because my dance experience involved being forced by my mother to learn ballet when I was 7. I quit when I was 15 after being bullied, and now, 7 years later, I wasn’t sure if I could summon any of that grace again.

When Deenerman announced that she would be pairing us up and that she would pair experienced individuals with amateurs, I got even more nervous. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself and dancing with someone with tons of experience was sure to do that. Heck, some of the girls in the class looked like they could lift and throw me at the wall as part of their dance routines.

“Michael Bink, you are going to be partnered with Kameron Milac.”

That was the first time I heard his name. I remembered my heart sinking as I saw who my designated dance partner was. Why would Deenerman arrange for two men to dance together? That’s just… that’s just wrong! Isn’t the man supposed to lead or something?

That showed how much I knew about contemporary dance. Turns out, it didn’t matter the gender of who I danced with. It was all about their skill and ability in interpreting the dance.

Michael was definitely experienced. He had been taking Deenerman’s dance classes for 4 years, and was involved in a youth dance group before that. We never talked much when we got together to practice our dances – he seemed naturally quiet and I felt awkward given how much we had to touch each other.

Still, watching Michael dance was probably the most mesmerizing thing ever. Years of dancing had given him this sleek body, further accentuated by the grace of his movements. He wasn’t overly muscular, but had a really strong compact body that was definitely suited for the crazy movements and lifting that we did for our routines. I kept in shape by going to the gym regularly, but still found myself often falling behind whenever we had to do our jumps and lifts and twirls.

Our class with Deenerman was pretty unique in that we never met as an entire class aside from the first and last session. She would make appointments with us regularly to watch us dance and give us tips and suggestions as well as new assignments. In that respect, until our final project, she was the only person who ever saw me and Michael together.

“Kameron, don’t be afraid to touch him.” That was her first comment to me. From then onwards, Michael would always try to be in physical contact with me during practice. The one time I asked him about it, he said that it was to help me get over my fear of touching men. I don’t think I was afraid of touching men. I think I was just afraid of touching him.

Still, the constant contact helped and I got used to his presence. I got so used to the feel of his skin and his smell that all I could think of was him when other people touched me. At that point, I realize I must have been spending too much time with him. I enjoyed our practices though, and it felt comforting when I was with him so I wasn’t too bothered by it.

When I asked Michael what his future plans were, he said “I want to keep dancing. Dancing communicates more than anything I could say with words. With dancing, I can truly tell people how I feel without saying a single word.” That astounded me. All I wanted to do was become an investment banker so I could make lots of money and live in a penthouse apartment.

One of the craziest assignments that Deenerman gave us was “Nature”. We were supposed to experience dancing outdoors. Michael perked when he heard that assignment. For our next practice session, he dragged me to the wooded area behind the football field. He took off his shoes, and without music, he just jumped into dance movements, swaying into an imaginary beat. I watched him for a bit, captivated with his movements. Then I joined him, just the 2 of us, dancing in the woods as little specks of light glittered around us as the sun filtered through the dense leaves on the surrounding trees. The dance wasn’t choreographed, but it was passionate, it was rough, it was gentle, it was happy, it was demanding, and it was made up of our feelings. When the sun no longer shone through the leaves, we put our shoes back on and walked our separate ways home.

The term kept rolling along, and we kept practicing. I got much better at the dancing thanks to Michael’s help and Deenerman’s critical tips. Michael and I started spending more time at the studio dancing and practicing as I started loving what we were doing together. Deenerman would show up and watch us occasionally, but she said less and less as time went by. Soon, whenever Michael and I danced, I felt like we were the only two people in the whole world.

Finally, our final project was announced. Deenerman told us that our final dances would be themed and designed to cater to our combined styles, talents and chemistry. It confused me when she gave Michael and I the theme “Bitter Love”. I didn’t feel like that theme worked. If anything, “Silence” would have been a better theme for us.

Still, Michael weaved his magic and picked out a song. The song and choreography was chosen to show the conflicting emotions of being in a relationship that would not work. We practiced and practiced, but somehow a tension began to develop between us. I could not connect with him to make the dance feel right.

Before I could fix that though, the day of the final dance came. We were the third last couple to perform in front of the class, and I was so nervous that I was sweating buckets. When Deenerman announced our names and our theme, I barely heard her as I moved mechanically to the stage. Michael and I got into our starting position, me clutching on to him as he stood firm and strong.

This was it. The very last thing I do at this school before I pack up my bags and leave for my cushy job in a city thousands of miles away. The last time I will be dancing with Michael. And the last time that I will be touching him, sensing his familiar presence. When I realized that, I gasped and involuntarily tightened my hold on him.

The music started. As the first lines wafted through through the air, he grabbed hold of me, spinning me around as we moved as a fused body. His hold was tighter than usual, stronger than usual, and was charged with something that I have not felt before.

My body moved of its own accord, executing the steps that it had memorized. My brain, disjointed from my body, was running through my memories of dancing with Michael. The memories of the time in the woods, the times when Deenerman faded into the background, and the times when Michael held me in his arms as we moved to the music.

And then I realized that I was leaving. I would leave this class and Michael, and time will erase the familiarity of our touch. I will leave here and live in a world silent of music and dance. Life changes and we move on, don’t we?

We moved into our next sequence of steps and I fixed my gaze on him. His beauty and grace, and how he seems perfectly comfortable in this skin. His eyes are closed as he executes his move, slowing pulling his hands together to express the desperation of losing love.

I stared at him, feeling the rawness of his emotions, before I began my steps. Running towards him, I sweep my arms around him and buried my face into his chest, unable to look him in the eyes. I knew that I had to leave. If this was going to be our last dance, I was going to make it count. I pulled us together, my entire body shaking with the effort and cry for us to stay together. In my heart, I knew he could see and feel me shaking, but I didn’t care – I would dedicate all my passion to this dance for him.

As we danced and moved through the steps, I couldn’t help but want the song to last forever. I wanted time to stop for me, for us so that I could forever dance with him. The playing music was the only indication that time was passing, and I realized that the dance was coming to an end.

Michael moved into position for our very last sequence – a sequence where we would launch ourselves at each other, and in the very last moment of the song, push each other away. I looked at him standing across the stage from me and at that moment, I realized my feelings. They were so perfect, and I was afraid to move because if I were to move, those feelings will end with the end of the song. It was then that I decided that things would be different.

The song shifted into its last few lines, and Michael began to launch himself at me. I responded in the same way, but I avoided looking into his eyes. I hope this was not the wrong choice. I hope that Michael would not hurt me. I hope….

As Michael reached his hands out to push me away, I knocked them aside, taking a huge breath before I pulled him into the strongest embrace I could muster. He stiffened, his arms by his side and my heart chilled.

Slowly, I lifted my head and looked into his deep blue eyes that were filled with confusion. He looked away and I pulled him harder into me, willing him to feel what I wanted to tell him. I waited. I waited as the song began to die, fading away into the background. What could be running through his head? I hope I did not mess this up. I really hope that he would respond. Most of all, I was terrified, but I still kept holding on to him.

Finally, he moved. His arms grabbed my back and tightened as the tension flowed out of me and I sagged against his sturdy frame. He looked into my teary eyes and gave me the brightest smile I have ever seen.

We did not have to say a word – our dance said everything.