Redemption Songs, Part 2

"Take me dancing," she said to me when we met again at that coffee place.

"I'm, uh, I'm not much of a dancer."

"It doesn't matter," she smiled, "It's not the skill that matters. It's the heart."

We walked down darkened streets, breathing the humid summer air. Her long white skirt swished against her legs in translucent waves. A bead of sweat formed at her hairline, trickled down her forehead, her cheek, down her chin, broke loose and fell through the night to splash against the pavement. The city pulsed with a strange energy. I was alive for the first time.

She led me down a dark alley, leaving me confused, disoriented, wondering that such a woman could exist who trusted a stranger in a dark place. She seemed untouched, untroubled by the worries I carried and assumed everyone else carried, too. As we walked the alley gradually lightened, the air filled with the low hum of voices and the deep, resonant sound of music. It buzzed in my ears, beckoning me forward.

He hand found mine. She turned, took my free hand, walked backwards, dragged me towards the sound and the light. We emerged from the alley in a large, open square. Strings of Christmas lights criss-crossed overhead, bathing the dozens of couples dancing below in artificial starlight. A DJ pushed the music through a pair of massive speakers in one corner of the square. A temporary bar in the opposite corner promised refreshment and the courage to take the floor. "Come on," she said as one song ended and another began, "This is my favorite song."

It began, chirpy, light bossa nova. Or maybe a cha cha. Truth be told, I couldn't have told you the difference then and I can't now.

I wrote a little insurrection
That moves in the direction
That beauty is beauty in spite of perfection

My right arm wrapped itself around her waist, my hand found the small of her back. Her right hand found my left. Somehow I found the beat.

Slow. Slow. Quick quick. Slow. Slow.

She was all hips and smiles. It was all I could do to keep up, keep from stumbling over my own two feet. Her dress brushed lightly against my legs whenever she moved.

Well put your feet in the sand
A lukewarm beer in your hand
And mama let down your hair
Yes I've chipped a tooth
No need to call home
I don't have to be anywhere

"See," she said, "You know what you're doing."

"I guess so." I gave her a half smile, tried to stay in the moment. Somehow, though, talking broke the brief, fragile spell.

"What?"

"Excuse me?"

"You look like you're about a million miles away."

And she swears she'll be gone
When the sun hits the ground
And she ain't comin' back to my cell

"What the hell is your problem?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've just been moping around," she said, her voice taking that annoyed, accusing edge it took all too often of late. "Yeah, things aren't going so well, I get it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself."

"Well what do you want me to do?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, "Stop waiting for the world to fix itself for your benefit. Stop sitting in the dark. Go out and do something."

"No," I blinked, pulling myself back in to the moment. "I'm here."

"Good," she smiled, flashing a row of straight, white teeth. "It's where you belong."

We can hear the bossa nova
And we can sway the night away
The steps to the dance are best left up to chance
Better beautiful than perfect anyway

"Who are you?" I asked, suddenly struck anew by the strangeness of the situation.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Right now?"

"No, it can wait."

While the moon wanes and waxes
Death and taxes are lurking out there
Life is grand, love is real, and beauty is everywhere

"All that matters right now is right now," she said.

"Yeah." But it was too late.

And she tries
And she tries
But my feet just won't leave the ground
And I'm tired
And I'm tired
Of this prisoner's life
And these chains that drag me down

"Nothing's working for me right now. You know that."

"So the fuck what? That's life." She sighed. "You can't just sit here feeling sorry for yourself and listening to this depressing shit all day."

"Why not?"

"Because I just can't take it any more. I can't take you any more."

"Hey, you're losing the beat."

"Oh, sorry."

So the clear blue sky, no she never let us in
But she was blindfolded, gagged and bound
See the poppies pushing up through the bones on the ground
But the body's never found

"It's not like I ever had the beat to begin with, anyway."

"C'mon, don't be so hard on yourself. You're doing fine."

"Are you sure you don't want to take over? I'm sure you can lead."

"No," she shook her head. "You look like you need the practice."

We can hear the bossa nova
And we can sway the night away
The steps to the dance are best left up to chance
Better beautiful than perfect anyway

"Okay, just don't be surprised if I screw up."

"You'll only screw up if you think you're going to."

Oh, but in my four, in my four
In my four, my four walled world
Yeah, in my four, in my four
In my four, my four walled world

"Did you hear me?" she asked, blinking back tears.

"Yes."

She picked up the remote and shut off my stereo. "I don't think you did. I said I'm leaving."

I closed my eyes, bit my lower lip. "I know."

"Do you even care?"

While the moon wanes and waxes
Death and taxes are lurking out there
Life is grand, love is real, and beauty is everywhere

I squeezed her hand. "I don't want to screw up any more," I said.

"Then stop."

"Is it really that easy?"

"Shouldn't it be?"