Tonight, in celebration of their new lives soon to begin, Myrtle and Jaquinn went out dancing.
I admit, I put the idea in their heads. I have grown accustomed to the art of dance being a part of my daily work, and I shall be sorry for it to become a rare privilege again. So, on this night when they will receive my last blessing, I suggested that they go dancing together, one last time.
It was an occasion, and they dressed for it. Jaquinn wore charcoal gray jeans and a pair of sneakers so white that they glowed, with a low-neckline shirt under a sleek jacket. Myrtle, however, shone like a star in a green dress that clung to the lines of her body. When he saw her, Jaquinn’s eyes glowed, and he kissed her neck and growled a suggestion that perhaps they should stay in that night.
Her low laughter held so much happiness that I, too, glowed. “Oh, no, you’re not getting away with it that easily,” she said, and grabbed his hand. “I said I’d show you who is the master, and I am going to do that.” And she dragged him out the door and down the street to the bus stop.
They do not usually go to dance clubs—Myrtle prefers to stand out in smaller groups of people. But tonight was about joy, celebration, excitement, and where better to find that?
It was rather overwhelming to accompany them into the dark, cavernous room. The first thing one notices is the beat, so loud that it shakes the walls, so deep that it makes the room throb as if one has somehow been transporting inside the human heart. Then the lights begin to flash, brilliant colors made more vibrant by the contrasting darkness. With the hearing and the sight thus incapacitated, one is left only with touch and intuition to be the guide through the packed room, filled with movement and breath and life.
It was similar and yet different from my experience with Shannon on the night that she found Thomas. At that time, I could only see in the shades of Shannon’s aura, filled with defiance and sharpness and recklessness. Tonight, however, Myrtle and Jaquinn seemed to cast the whole room in a new light, and I could follow their auras easily as they twisted and twined their way toward the center. Soon I could see nothing but the two of them, dancing and rejoicing together.
Others noticed, too; a little space formed around them, a precious gift in such a crowded place. Many eyes watched as the ongoing competition between Myrtle and Jaquinn continued, as they matched one another move for move. He let one arm wave from shoulder to fingertip, and she would carry on the movement down to the stomp of one foot. She tossed her head and he rolled his torso back. The gazes made Myrtle preen and Jaquinn growl—possessive, yes, but also proud that he could, in some small way, claim this woman.
And then Myrtle pushed him back and took command of the space, twisting and shuddering, the strength and skill of her body perfectly controlled. I watched the small things—her fingers bending back, her weight lifting for a moment onto her toes, the angle of one hip as she spun. By the time the song began to slow into a new melody, people were cheering, acknowledging her.
She turned to Jaquinn, who was beaming, and his gaze warmed the room. He bowed deeply, making her laugh, and then he held out his hand, and she went to him.
I stooped then, and closed my wings around them, and wished like them that I had a body to show how well I loved them. In its absence, I gave them everything else I could—strength for their bodies and warmth for their hearts, and the love that needs no words to be understood.