The Dance by Cyndi Woods

The Dance

By Cyndi Woods 

The stage is dark and the curtain is still drawn. Quiet conversation swirls around the darkened theater. “They should be starting soon.” You hear someone whisper off to your left. A quick glance in that direction and your gaze returns to the still empty stage. Behind you a few rows, someone is repeatedly excusing themselves as you hear their voice traveling down the row to the isle. You turn around to see the shadows of one set of feet blotting out each lighted edge of the steps heading out of the theater. “No way am I leaving now,” you think to yourself, straightening in your seat again and adjusting your jacket hanging on the back of your chair. Sighing heavily, you grow a little more impatient waiting for the curtain to go up. You hear movement and stretch your neck up and try to see the stage. Then you realize it is the person behind you returning to their seat. You hear the barrage of “excuse me’s” again. Just when your impatience is becoming frustration, you hear the mechanical retracting of the curtain. A single glowing golden light illuminates a stunning, shiny black grand piano over in the left corner of the stage. With perfect silence, a middle-aged man in a smoky black tuxedo emerges from behind the curtain and takes his place on the piano bench.

He begins playing so softly that you have to lean forward and cock your ear to be sure he is actually playing. The chords he is playing seem simple but beautiful. It sounds like glittery diamonds all greeting each other in an embrace. You find yourself so caught up in the music of the piano that you catch out of the corner of your eye that the two dancers have appeared on the stage. Shifting your focus to them now, you notice another single shaft of golden light showering down on the graceful duo. The man is adorned in black pants and a black tightly fitting short-sleeved shirt. The woman is arrayed in a long-sleeved leotard with a fiery red gauzy skirt that is no more than tissue paper thick. They are both wearing black shoes, his are like a tightly fitting boot and hers are ballet slippers. Their moves are flawless and graceful. At times you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. He twirls her and her skirt flares out like feathers in a breeze. The beam of golden light follows them around the stage not wanting to be left behind.

The piano chords grow more intense and the pair moves more swiftly around the stage. He appears to be chasing her in an attempt to capture a flying swan. The audience, feeling the intensity grow, is wide-eyed just as you are waiting to see if he catches her. She then leaps effortlessly and you are sure she is going to collide with the huge piano. She amazes her on-lookers by gliding across the black ice of the grand instrument and as if she never left the floor of the stage, lands seamlessly on the other side. He turns swiftly gauging her direction and intercepts her. She tries in vain to keep moving forward, as he lifts her off the stage floor and continues his steps as if to help her fly. Her arms are out like wings and her legs are out behind her so perfectly aligned, that it appears that she only has one. Her skirt of flames is like a sail as she is propelled through the air. The man lowers the graceful bird to the floor and they intertwine, slowing their pace as the melody of the piano settles to a steady rhythm. You lean back in your seat again realizing that you had been sitting forward a bit watching this wordless story unfold.

The two are now mirroring one another’s steps as they glide around the stage as if on ice. After everyone has time to collect themselves, the music begins to swell again. The chase is on once more and he quickly snatches the girl as she tries to breeze past him. He gently lays her on the floor and she lays there like an injured dove. He spins about and waves his arms up and down opposite each other. He returns to where his delicate dove lies helpless. He runs and seems to dive right into the stage floor like a pool of water and glides right to her side. Running his hand swiftly down her side as if to wake her, she moves not. He stands again and clasps her ankles. Thinking he is dragging her off to devour her, you sit up again in your seat in anticipation. He begins spinning her in a wide circle and she opens her arms in preparation for flight. Faster and faster he spins as she begins to lift off the floor. You start to look at your seat mate’s reactions and their eyes are riveted to the performance. Sparing them only a glance, you return your focus to the stage. The woman is now floating as the man continues to spin and hold her by the ankles. “Surely he will lower her back to the floor soon,” you assume. As the entire audience sucks in a collective breath, he releases her with an upward throw. With the height she is soaring, he simply must catch her or she will surely break her legs. She never looks down to see if her safety net is there. Time seems to morph into slow-motion as she begins her descent. All you can think of in that moment is how she knew how it must feel to actually fly. But she must be caught since she doesn’t have real wings and cannot land as a bird does. Turning your eyes to the man, you will him to catch her. He seems too far away to reach her in time. She never wavers in her flight. Arms never droop, legs never kick wildly in fear, she simply descends with complete trust. The man leaps and twirls and somehow reaches the space in which the woman is landing. Extending his arms, He receives her and they continue moving as though she never left his embrace. You along with the countless members of the audience stand in unison for whistles and applause. The pair spin a few more times and slow their pace as the piano follows their lead. With a final flourish, he bends to one knee and lays her over that knee supporting her across her back, arms extended and once again trusting in her fellow dancer for safety. The music takes its final bow and the audience continues the thunderous applause. The couple straighten and also take their bows and the curtain closes once again.

You are still a little dazed from the magical performance as you collect your things and begin to file out along with the others. Talk of what a fabulous performance it was and the promises to come to another swirl around you. However, your thoughts linger on the incredible trust those two dancers had for one another. Her trust was that he would always be there to catch her. His trust is that she would let him. Oh, to have this amazing trust.