THE SINGLES DANCE
by Will Berry
copyright © 2005
Home
/ Order / Contact /
Submit / Links
THE
SINGLES DANCE
by Will
Berry
copyright © 2005
Ludlow Press Short Fiction
THE
SINGLES DANCE
To be single and unattached is always harrowing, but to be all that when one
is over 60 can be excruciating for it is the natural order of male and
female, wrinkled or not, to be bonded, or at least imprisoned, to someone.
William Quimby had been documenting this happenstance of nature and decided
it was time for him make some 'moves.'
William's wife, age 61, had run off with a young stud of 50, a divorce was
filed and quickly granted because William, not the avenging or even the
mercenary type, gave in to all demands. He got to keep his book collection.
Fair was fair.
Now it was Satuday night, again, and he knew that, even at age 66, his
entire life, albeit shortened, was in front of him. The first hurdle in his
comeback was the upcoming and fearsome Saturday night. His ex-wife's church
had been sponsoring a mumber of "Together Again" single's dances at the 40
and 8, which seemed like a decent thing for his ex-wife's ex-church to do.
So there he stood in the 40 and 8 dance hall wishing he had not worn
polyester and his eyes came to rest upon a lady, slim and attractive, whose
dark eyes told him to take the vacant seat in front of her. Maybe this
wasn't going to be too bad at that, William thought. In the 6 plus seconds
it took him to approach the lady's proffered chair, he had tried to pull in
his stomach and to think of something really whippy to say. A good 'hit'
line he thought it was called.
"Hello, he said, "I'm William....Fantasia."
"Are you really?" She smiled. "Well, then, I'm Anastasia and for
authentication you can dial 1-800-ROMANOV....William."
The lady in front of him was a veteran and also quite pretty. He was
overmatched and he would have to forget the smooze talk, not that he had
ever been inclined in his incomplete non-Brobdingnagian life
towards smooze talk. "Uh...well, Anastasia...would you care to dance?"
"I would be delighted, Mr. Fantasia. Something European perhaps. Would you
care to wait for 'Swan Lake' by Tchaikovsky or shall we just settle for
'Islands in the Stream' by Kenny and Dolly?" Anastasia was enjoying the
joust immensely. "And, Mr. Fantasia, whether you can really dance or not is
immaterial just so you will lead. God, I hate men who won't lead."
William lead, rather well he thought, to "Islands in the Stream" and to
quite a few more gentile songs inasmuch as Miss Romanov was very graceful,
her lithe body quite compliant. At evening's end, Anastasia took the lead
and gave William her phone number, but William thought that they should have
dinner soon, say on Wednesday night where they had a Senior's special at the
Hanover Lounge and Cafe. Anastasia's smile was a quasar and it came with
demure continental curtsy that quitely screamed acceptance.
On his way home, William Quimby thought of three things. The first was
erotic and personal. Then, he thought of the other two. First, get rid of
the damn polyester and buy a really good suit, something like David
Letterman wears. And, find Boris Pasternak in his library.
Will Berry
(and you thought that Gramps and Grammie spent all their time in casinos)
e-mail: copywrite2@hotmail.com