Elizabeth started to walk off the floor whensomeone else tapped her on the shoulder. "May I?" the gentlemanasked, gesturing towards the floor. Elizabeth shrugged and smiledslightly, and let herself be led back onto the floor. Her newpartner was a very dashing and an obviously gay man. He was also aterrific dancer.
"Why did you ask me to dance?"
He smiled at her. "I noticed you when you firstcame in. That dress is stunning, darling. You were with that stickin the mud over there. Then, I saw you out on the dance floor andrealized that you can really move. My partner ..." he nodded hishead to a short, squat man in a plaid tuxedo, "can't dance to savehis life. I thought I would have to spend all night in the cornerin frustration. Then I saw you, an angel in red."
Elizabeth laughed. "Don't you meandevil?"
"No, sweetie. The way you move, it's like anangel."
Almost as if on cue, Elizabeth missed a stepand stumbled lightly. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm afraid I'm a bitrusty."
"Rusty. Interesting name. I'mPowell."
Elizabeth laughed again. "No, my name is notrusty, my dancing is. My name is Elizabeth. But you can call meLiza."
"Liza, are you a dancer?"
"I was in a previous life. I was very involvedin theater."
"What a coincidence, so am I!" Powell smiledexuberantly.
"Are you still involved in it?"
"Why yes, darling. James," he nodded again tohis partner, "and I run the Stengold Theater. Have you ever beenthere?"
She shook her head apologetically. "I'm afraidnot. My soon-to-be-ex-husband," now it was Elizabeth's turn togesture with her head, "was not a fan of the theater. I could neverget him to go, no matter how much it meant to me."
"Not to pry, but is that handsome tidbit youwere just dancing with the reason stick-in-the-mud over there isyour soon-to-be-ex?"
"Yes. No. Not really. Maybe?"
"Oh, well, that's clear as mud. This song'sending. Got it in you for one more?"
Elizabeth laughed. She had not had this muchfun in ages. She truly felt like she didn't have a care in theworld. She was in the middle of the floor, dancing, and she wasloving it. It felt like being back on stage. As the music shiftedinto a swing number, Elizabeth had to focus more on the dancing andless on the conversation. Powell was a very strong dancer and ledElizabeth well. She hadn't been swing dancing since probably 1998.By the end of the song, Elizabeth was laughing and gasping forbreath. Powell started to lead her off the floor. Peter was stillover at his table, talking with his co-workers. Jack was off to theright. He was watching Elizabeth with an intent gaze.
Powell, ever astute, looked to his right andthen to his left. Then he looked at Elizabeth. "Where do you wantto go?'
Where do you want to go? Elizabeth also lookedat Peter to her left and Jack to her right. This was it. This washer pivotal moment. This is where she made the choice. And withouteven trying, without even thinking about it, the choice was crystalclear.
"Powell, I want you to introduce me to James. Iwant to hear all about your theater. And then, I want to tell youabout this great idea I have for a play that I just happen to havewritten. Like my dancing, it may be a little rusty."
"Honey, if it is anything like your dancing,we'd be fools not to snatch it right up."
Powell walked her forward toward his partner,and Elizabeth smiled. No, she beamed. She didn't have to choosebetween Peter and Jack. All she had to do was choose herself. Shecould do this. She could be on her own and make herself happy. Shecould live her life, focus on her children and her interests. Shecould do this. She would do this.
And Elizabeth knew, from that point on, nomatter what, nothing would ever hold her down again.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kathryn Biel hails from Upstate NewYork and is a spouse and mother of two wonderful and energetickids. In between being Chief Home Officer and Director of ChildDevelopment of the Biel household, she works as a school-basedphysical therapist. She attended Boston University and received herDoctorate in Physical Therapy from The Sage Colleges. After yearsof writing countless letters of medical necessity for wheelchairs,finding increasingly creative ways to encourage the government andinsurance companies to fund her clients' needs and writingentertaining annual Christmas letters, she decided to take a shotat writing the kind of novel that she likes to read. Her debutnovel, GOOD INTENTIONS, was released in 2013. Her musings and rantscan also be found on her personal blog, Biel Blather.
