Dance, The (The Restoration Series Book #1): A Novel (14 page)

 26 

J
im followed Audrey’s directions to her house, which was still in River Oaks but in a neighborhood of smaller homes modeled in a bungalow style. They still had front porches, of course, but they didn’t wrap around the side, and most were single story. But hey, Jim thought, she and her husband had to be doing okay at that dance studio before he died. Otherwise, they couldn’t have afforded a place in River Oaks. Even in the bungalow section.

As he pulled up to the curb in front, he admired the house, small as it was. The word
quaint
came to mind. After that the word,
symmetric
. Even the modest landscaping on each side of the porch was a mirror image of the other. As he got out of his car, he looked around at the other homes on the block, happy to see no one was outside or appeared to notice him.

He was also grateful Audrey had no signs out front or by her door, announcing her private dance studio inside. As he walked up the steps, he realized the homeowners’ association would never allow such a thing anyway. Which was great, because he didn’t want anyone to know why he was there.

After a few moments, Audrey answered the doorbell. “Jim, so glad you made it. Right on time.”

Jim quickly walked inside. He was freshly reminded of how young Audrey seemed for her age. If she and Ted had been married fifty years, she had to be in her seventies. But she looked so elegant and refined and stood with perfect posture. Maybe dancing all these years had kept her in such good health.

Her place was nicely decorated, although the furniture pieces were obviously from a different era. A strong aroma of air freshener or potpourri involuntarily filled his lungs. Pleasant music played from somewhere in the back of the house.

“Would you care for a cup of coffee or tea?”

“Coffee if you have it made,” he said.

“I do. Follow me.” She walked around a short stairway into the carpeted living area.

“I didn’t realize these models had a second floor,” he said. “From the outside, you just see that dormer in the middle. I thought it must be an attic.”

“There’s a couple of bedrooms and a bathroom up there, but I hardly go upstairs anymore. Fortunately for me, the master bedroom is downstairs, right over there,” she said, pointing toward a closed door on the left side of the foyer.

They walked into a spacious dining room; the kitchen was off to the left. He could now tell the music was coming from a room on the other side of a set of double French doors.

“Have a seat,” she said, looking at the dining room table, “while I pour us some coffee.”

As she did, he looked through the French doors, noticed the shiny wood floor, and guessed this room was her little dance studio. Seeing it made him tense up.

“Are you a little nervous?”

“Terrified.” He couldn’t believe he said that.

“Good,” she said. “That’s the right answer.”

What on earth could she mean by that? “You’re glad I’m terrified?”

“Well,” she said, “not glad, exactly. And I’m sure you’re not exactly terrified. But I expect you have a reasonable amount of fear. And why shouldn’t you? You’re doing something totally out of your comfort zone.”

“That’s an understatement. I can’t ever see me feeling comfortable about dancing.”

She walked over carrying a tray with the coffee and everything to fix it. “No? Well, tell me something you do that you feel totally comfortable doing.” She set the tray down and sat.

“Well . . . golf, I guess.”

“Are you pretty good?”

He smiled. Pretty good wasn’t being honest. If he could play more often, knock a few more strokes off his game, he might have a shot on the PGA senior tour.

“By that smile, I guess that’s a yes,” she said. “My Ted liked to play golf, back when he was healthier. So I know a little about it.”

“River Oaks has a beautiful course. Is that where he played?”

“Most of the time.” She stirred her coffee. “Do you remember the first time you ever played golf?”

“What?”

“The first time you ever played golf . . . do you remember how you felt before you started?”

Jim thought a moment. He did remember. An image flashed through his mind: he was following his father out to the driving range. Ten years old. Golf was his father’s religion, very serious business. Their backyard bordered the sixth hole. His dad had just given him a lesson. He remembered how he’d felt, walking
behind his dad that day. He was afraid he’d forget something and screw up.

And of course, that’s exactly what happened. “I get it,” he said. “People are always afraid of things they’ve never done before. So . . . are we even going to learn any dance steps tonight?”

“What if I said not exactly?”

“That would make me happy.”

“Then you can relax. Tonight, we’re only going to talk about dancing. This week is what my husband used to call the Introduction Week.” She took a sip of coffee. “I wish he were here. He did such a better job explaining all this.”

Jim was glad to put dancing off another week but now had no idea what to expect.

“So why do you think you’re so afraid of dancing?” Audrey said.

“I’m not afraid of dancing. I’m just no good at it.”

“Because you’ve never done it before.”

“Right.”

“Not even at your wedding.” Her smile disappeared. It was more a statement than a question.

He didn’t know what to say next. “I did get up, eventually.”

“You danced with your wife at your wedding?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it dancing.” He reached for his coffee cup.

“Do you have any idea how much young women look forward to their wedding day?”

“Not really, but I’m sure they do.”

“They start thinking about it as little girls. They dream about that magical day when a man falls in love with them and proposes, and their father escorts them down the aisle. They’ll say their vows, their fiancé places that ring on their finger, looks them in the eye and says—”

“We did all that, Marilyn and I. We said our vows and said I do. We even said some things during the ring part of the ceremony. I didn’t mess up a single word.”

“But part of the dream, Jim, is that first dance at the reception. I’ll bet Marilyn even had a song picked out.”

Jim remembered. She did. “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole. But she knew he didn’t dance. “Why didn’t she ask me beforehand?” Jim said. “We never danced while we were dating or engaged. Not even once.”

“I’m guessing she didn’t think she had to. It’s pretty customary for the bride and groom to dance.”

Jim thought about it. What he wanted was to get up and leave, right now. He knew what was going on here. Audrey was trying to make him feel guilty for something that had happened twenty-seven years ago. “I guess not.”

“I never have,” she said. “But you know what, Jim? In a way, you and Marilyn did dance that day. And you’ve been dancing the same dance ever since, right up until almost two weeks ago when she walked out the door.”

“I’m sorry. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She smiled. “And,” she continued, “you already know all the steps to this dance. It’s a dance almost every couple learns shortly after they get married.”

Okay, she must be talking about some kind of metaphor. “I guess I’m supposed to ask, what’s the dance?”

“Obviously, I’m using a kind of word picture. My husband Ted called it the Fear Dance. And my guess, Jim, is you’ve become pretty skilled at it already.”

 27 

T
he Fear Dance,” Jim repeated. “The only thing I’m afraid of right now is Marilyn leaving me for good, causing us to go broke. We could lose our house, my business could be ruined—”

“I’m not just talking about what you’re afraid of now,” Audrey said. “I’m talking about other fears, fears you’ve had for a long time, even way back on your wedding day. And before that. Ted used to call them
core
fears.”

What was she going on about?

“The thing is,” she continued, “you probably don’t know those fears are even there, or what they are. And you probably don’t know what Marilyn’s fears are, either. But you both have them.” She took a sip of her coffee.

Jim did too. It was already lukewarm. “Okay,” he said, “let’s say I buy that. I’m not sure I do yet, but to make sure I’m following you . . . why do you call it a Fear Dance?”

“See, these core fears cause us to react in certain ways to others, especially people we’re close to. When they push our fear buttons, so to speak. We get hurt when that happens, so
we react. Our reaction often causes us to step on our partner’s fears. Like stepping on their toes while dancing. Then they get hurt and so they react accordingly. All the while, neither one understands what’s going on, because we don’t know what’s making us afraid inside, or what our spouse’s fears are. So this Fear Dance keeps going, round and round. Two people just stepping on each other’s toes. It’s a funny sight to see on the dance floor, but in real life, it’s very painful.”

Stepping on each other’s toes, because we’re afraid?
Jim wasn’t all that excited to come here to learn how to dance, but this wasn’t at all what he expected.

“Let me give you an example,” she said. “A moment ago when I asked you if you were nervous coming here for your first dance lesson, what did you say?”

“That I was terrified.”

“But when I asked you why you didn’t dance with your wife on your wedding day, what did you say?”

Jim thought a moment. “I said . . . it was because I couldn’t dance. But I wasn’t afraid, I just didn’t know how. That’s not the same thing.”

“You sure about that?”

What did she want him to say? “Pretty sure,” he said.

“What would have happened if you had just said yes when it came time for the two of you to dance? What if you just did it because you loved Marilyn and wanted to make her happy?”

“Everyone would have laughed at me the moment they saw how badly I—” He stopped talking. He had been afraid. Afraid of being laughed at. This was actually starting to make sense.

“You were afraid of failure,” she said. “Afraid you’d dance so bad you’d be humiliated in front of all those people.” Jim
nodded in agreement. “Fear of failure is a pretty powerful fear. I think it may be a core fear for you, Jim.”

Could this be true? Was that when everything got offtrack with them, way back then?

“Do you know how powerful your fear of failure was on your wedding day?”

He looked at her, unsure of what to say.

“You love Marilyn, right? Loved her on your wedding day?”

“Very much. She’s . . . she’s the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

“But see, this fear of yours was more powerful than your love for Marilyn. All of a sudden, she didn’t matter. You left her all alone out on that dance floor, every eye watching her. The dream she had since she was a little girl was being crushed as each moment ticked by. Now she’s not here, so I can’t ask her, but I’d venture to say, she wasn’t feeling too loved right about then, was she?”

Jim’s eyes started moistening up.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Audrey continued, “if feeling unloved or rejected is one of Marilyn’s core fears. And I imagine the two of you have been to a lot of weddings together since your wedding day.”

Jim nodded. “We have.”

“And probably, at every one of those, as couples got up to dance at the reception, your core fear kicked in, and the two of you didn’t dance.”

“I’ve never danced with her.”

“So every time that happened, I’ll bet she flashed back to your wedding day, and the pain would come back all over again, stirring up all those feelings of rejection.”

He let out a deep, pent-up sigh. “Marilyn actually said
something like that in her note, something about how this whole thing got triggered by a recent wedding.”

“So see, in a way, Jim, you did dance with Marilyn that day. And many times since. It was the Fear Dance.”

Jim felt awful.

He’d never realized any of these things before, but now they were painfully clear. And painfully true. He had been afraid of being laughed at on their wedding day. Afraid of destroying the athletic image he’d worked so hard to create in high school and college. So, to preserve that image, he had completely rejected his bride, forced her to play the fool instead, and totally crushed her girlhood dreams.

“My coffee’s gotten too cold to enjoy,” Audrey said. “I’m going to freshen it up. You want some more? It’s decaf, won’t keep you up tonight.”

“What?” Jim looked up. “Yes, that would be nice. Thanks.”

Audrey got up and walked into the kitchen to get the coffeepot. After she topped off their cups, she turned the coffeemaker off and set the pot back in its place. “I just remembered something I wanted to give you. Better go get it now, before I forget.” She walked past him toward the living room.

“What is it?

“Just a little present for you. Something for next week.” She stopped and looked down at his feet. “You’re what, a size 10?”

“Yes, good guess.”

“After teaching dance lessons for thirty years, you become a pretty good judge of people’s feet. Wait right here.” She hurried through the living room and out of sight. Moments later, she walked back holding a shoe box and set it on the table.

“What’s this?”

“Open it. It’s for you. Now, don’t feel like you have to take them.”

Jim opened the lid and saw a shiny pair of black leather shoes. “Are these dance shoes?” he asked.

“The best money can buy.”

“How much do you want for them?”

“Nothing. They’re a gift. From me to you. They were the last pair I bought Ted before he died. He got sick before he ever got a chance to use them.”

“But Audrey, I can’t . . . I can’t take these.”

“Of course you can. I want you to have them. Shoes this nice don’t belong buried in the back of a closet. I want to see them spinning and swirling on the dance floor.”

“I’m not sure that’ll happen on these feet,” he said.

“I am,” she said with a smile. “I know they will.”

They sat there a few moments in silence. Jim wasn’t sure if they were done or what she planned next. She looked like she had something else to say. Finally she said it. “There’s one last thing I need to mention tonight. As I got out the shoes I remembered it. Something Ted always talked about right after he’d tell folks about the Fear Dance.”

Jim wasn’t sure he was ready to hear any more. He looked at his watch. Had he only been here twenty minutes? It felt like two hours had gone by. “Will it take long?”

“Not at all. Won’t take two minutes.”

“What’s it about?”

“Misplaced expectations,” she said. “It has to do with the things we want, and how we keep looking in the wrong place to get them.” She put a teaspoon of sugar in her cup and stirred, then tasted it. “Anyway, it’s like when people dance. Sometimes
they move forward together, sometimes they step back. But what happens when both partners step forward at the same time?”

“I guess they bang into each other.”

“That’s right. The same thing happens with our expectations. When couples get married, they have this wrong notion that their spouse is supposed to make them happy, to fulfill all their wants and desires. That was certainly true with me and Ted. The problem is, it works at first but only a little while. You know what happens after that?”

“We get disappointed.” He guessed it was their age difference, but Jim couldn’t help feeling like he was back in elementary school being quizzed by a teacher.

“Do you know why?”

“Because . . . our spouse can’t fulfill all our expectations?”

She smiled. “You’re catching on. I’m so glad. I haven’t explained all these things to anyone since Ted died. And he used to do most of the talking. See, the truth is, God designed things so only he could meet the deepest needs in our hearts. But most people aren’t used to looking to God that way. We put all our hope in the person we fall in love with. All these romantic movies and love songs don’t help us very much here, either. They tell us over and over again that we’ll be happy if we can just find the right person and fall in love. So when we find that special person, we get all excited. But do you know what happens not too far down the road?”

“We get disappointed.” This seemed like the right answer to all her questions.

“And once that happens, we start looking for another partner. But see, all we’ve really done if we leave is find another person to dance that old Fear Dance with, and the vicious cycle starts all over again.” She opened a manila folder and handed Jim a
few sheets of paper stapled together. “Between now and next week, I’d like you to look these things over. It’s a list Ted came up with, the most common core fears people have. Read it over when you’re not in a rush and you have some time alone.”

Time alone is all I have now, Jim thought.

Just then something she’d just said repeated in his mind.
We start looking for another partner.
Is that what Marilyn was doing now? Is that what this was all about? He had failed to meet her expectations, and now she was looking for a new dance partner?