danced with girls...

I had just asked for a divorce before my darling J turned 21. No, not my child, one of my student workers with whom I had become good friends. I took her out to the Art Bar downtown where our friend DJ Vella spun old eighties on Saturday night and he got us in free. When doubleJ and I went dancing it was always an odd group. Me the elder by umpteen years, J, any one or two of her girlfriends that I always thought of as kittens because they seemed so untouched though I knew their lives had hardened much as mine. There was also always a young man in tow. I don’t think the same one went twice actually, but they were fun, no moves to be made, just out for the night. Especially the Russian, Boris, he was the best fun to dance on, to say vodka every time he did, mimicking his slur. They were J’s boys, they flocked to her like a moth to a flame as did I. That winter on until she graduated the following May we hung out off and on. She stayed with me a month before moving to Cali and I helped her buy her first new car. I miss her, she’s my little sis where I never had one and I’m her older sis in the same way. We email and write, but it’s not the same thing as getting a call at 11:30 at night to go dancing, not the same as getting drunk and playing DDR…drunk enough we murmured silly things about boys in Japanese because we suddenly couldn’t remember English. It’s not the same as making sure she had enough to eat or hugging innocently on the couch, saying I love you and meaning just that and nothing more. That J, she is a force of nature. Knowing her story, I see my strength in her quiet beauty. It shines unfalteringly. When I think of that time while my divorce was pending I will always think of it in innocence smiles. I will think of it as the time when I danced with girls.