Even with the automobile window closed and the door shut tightly, he could hear the music from the dancehall. He would sit there for just over four hours on this fall evening. When he became stiff or cold from sitting in his unheated car, or when the air in the car became stale, he would get out and stretch and do a few jumping jacks, then climb back in the car and sit. He didn’t mind the sound of the music, in fact he’d come to enjoy quite a few of the melodies, like “Begin the Beguine,” which to him had a catchy beat. So to his own chagrin, would find himself humming along. But, what he didn’t like was the sound of the laughter, and the clinking of the cocktail glasses. So, he kept the car shut up tight.
All evening long, people came and departed, and that’s when he’d catch a glimpse of the interior of the hall. Otherwise he saw only the lights that shone from within. Sometimes a male and female couple would arrive, but mostly he noticed that the females would arrive, in two's or three's, usually giggling and huddled together. Then a couple of men would arrive, walking an arms length apart, heads down, hands thrust in their pants pockets, slowly headed for the door almost with a sense of dread. An occasional man would arrive alone, gracefully bounding up the stairs.
While he sat there, all alone, he often thought back to the day he first met her. He could even remember the date, April 22, 1932. At his best friend’s insistence, he’d allowed himself to be dragged to the dancehall, even though he abhorred dancing of any kind. He’d told his friend that he didn’t know how to dance and that furthermore he hadn’t any intention to ever learn. “Yes, but you never know who you’ll meet,” were his friend’s prophetic words.
The large ballroom was crowded with people, but she immediately caught his eye. She was wearing an assemblage of off-white, starting with a dress that modestly covered her petite form. She wore a matching hat and shoes and she carried a small handbag and a pair of gloves, both off-white. When his friend introduced them, he’d find that she also wore a necklace of off-white clamshells and coordinated earrings. He offered to get her a glass of punch, which she accepted. They chatted for a bit. He took her empty glass back to the bar and when he returned she was off dancing with another young man. They were doing the Lindy Hop. In between dances, he talked with her, but he never asked her to dance. Except for the few minutes here and there, when he’d a chance to talk with her, he quickly accepted that he was uncomfortable enough with the dance hall to know that he would never return. During one of their conversations, she mentioned that she also enjoyed roller skating.
From his best friend, he discovered that the roller rink she frequented was not too far from the neighborhood where he’d lived as a child. He’d grown up on a farm just outside the city limits. He’d hated the farm and the hard work it entailed. To top it off, his family, which consisted of himself, his younger brother, and his mother and father, weren’t all that well off, as far as he could determine, given the amount of physical labor and long hours they'd collectively put into the farm. He wasn't a lazy man, you see, but he knew there had to be an easier way to earn money. He hadn’t told his parents yet, but he was in the process of obtaining a bank loan to finance a business of his own.
During his free time each evening, he went to the roller rink. On his fifth visit, he saw her. He chuckled to himself, alone in the car, as he recalled that she’d known all along that he’d been waiting at the roller rink, hoping to see her. Her girlfriends had tipped her off. And she’d purposely waited a few days before showing up. But she liked him and she didn’t want to discourage him to the point of hopelessness. She was only “testing his mettle.”
They married in 1940. And even long after they were married, he faithfully drove her each and every Saturday evening to the local dancehall. He'd park his car just outside the door. He sat in the car and waited for her. By now his business was showing a good profit. He now owned a brand new automobile, one with a good heater, and much more comfortable seats, so the wait wasn’t all that bad, or so he told himself.
***
I knew them both to be people of few words, so I was touched that this couple, married nearly fifty years, chose to share with me the story of how they'd met. After hearing the story, I looked directly at him, as if seeing him for the first time. He smiled at me and shrugged. “I loved a woman who loved to dance.” Then, “She can dance all she wants, with whomever she wants, because she will be going home with me. I am the one who will hold her each and every day and each and every night.”
I kept their story in a place in my mind where I store such thoughts. I like to pull from that file drawer in my brain every now and again, like when not so nice things happen, like the horrendous bombing at the Boston Marathon. It helps to remind me that most of the world is filled with plain, ordinary decent people,.
Later, I was alone with the wife, the “woman who loved to dance.” “Do you have any advice regarding the secret to a long and happy marriage?” I asked her. She turned to me with a smile, leaned over and whispered, “Marry a man who loves you just a little more than you love him.”
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