Jeff, in his trademark cardigan, linen slacks and smooth tie, raises his voice to ask, “You’re not going to dance with us, Diana?”
Everyone agrees with the idea, some clapping to egg me on. I turn bright red and remind them, “I’m not a very good dancer, folks. I plan these only because you all are amazing dancers and I can’t wait to see you strut your stuff.”
As my comfortable flats limp me to May, I meet her bright blue eyes and ignore the grumbled objections to my wise refusal.
She taps the bench next to her with the tips of her fingers.
Relieved to be with her, I adjust my dress to avoid future wrinkles, and lower my voice to an unobtrusive level while Eleanor begins class.
“Hello Mrs. Cocker. Excited?”
“Diana, it doesn’t matter how well you dance, just that you dance.” Glancing to her cushions she mildly frowns, her drawl slow and measured. “If I could be up there I would be.”
I touch her hand, giving her fingers a squeeze. “I bet you were an amazing dancer.”
“Jerald was the amazing dancer. I simply let my husband lead.” Her eyes go distant as she watches the group, seeing another gathering from a far-away time.
I venture, “You miss him today again, don’t you?”
“I miss him every day.”
We watch The Twist become The Mashed Potato, rows of smiles adjusting to new moves.
Not really new for them.
Most know these dances by now.
If they didn’t years ago.
But they’re easy and fun. Not too strenuous. Doing them in a class-setting means nobody has the awkwardness of having to ask someone to dance, and there is no need for even numbers. Every single person is on the floor, save for us, everyone having fun.
Even us.
May moves her hands to the music, mimicking some of the steps, and I lean into the cool wall, let stress fade away as I enjoy everyone’s happy energy.
My phone rings again, loudly. Some irritated glances come my way as I choke down a curse word, offering an apology to the room, “I thought I turned that off before, sorry!”
Tugging the phone out to put it on silent, I see a surprising name staring back. Why is he calling me again?
“I have a great-grandson named Wyatt,” May says, reading the screen.
Inwardly I wince and flick the phone to silent.
How do I explain?
Should I?
Two words slide from my tongue. “I know.”
We hold a look until her sharp, blue eyes flicker. “That’s my Wyatt?”
I slowly answer, “Yes.”
“Are you dating my Wyatt?”
“Um, no Mrs. Cocker. At least, not yet. We haven’t gone on a date yet. I just met him.” My eyelashes drop to the phone in my hands, nervous fingers playing with the dark screen. “I don’t know why he just called again.”
“He called before?” I nod. “Today?”
Again I nod. “Ten minutes ago?”
There’s a smile in May’s voice. “Why don’t you find out?”
I warily scrutinize her expression to discern if this is her approval. “I’m not allowed to accept phone calls here. Personal ones. Unless I take a break.”
She chuckles, “Diana, there’s nothing more personal than one of my great-grandsons calling a pretty girl like you. He would only do that for one reason.”
More courageous now, I quietly ask, “What do you think about my dating him, if I were to say yes?”
White eyebrows rise. “Were you thinking of telling him no?”
“I was. Sort of. Then I want to say yes. And back to no again. I’m not sure.”
She thinks on it, index finger floating up to help. “Wyatt is a funny one.”
“How so?”
“He was a man before he should have been a man.”
Now it’s my turn for curious eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
Keeping her volume private she drawls, “I believe Wyatt joined the police department… You do know he is an officer of the law, don’t you?” I nod, and she pats my hand, staring off to continue. “My grandson Justin is a very persuasive man in this city. He helped him enter the Academy before Wyatt was even eighteen-years-old, simply because Wyatt had his heart set on it. And Jeremy gave in. But that’s much too young to see the things he’s seen.”
“How old was your Jerald when he joined the Navy, and there was a war going on?”
May glances to me, blue eyes shining. “You’re feeling defensive, protecting him. You like him.”
“No, I…”
“It’s alright. What’s not to like?” She stares at the memory of the man she more than liked, and lost. “Powerful men have a powerful hold.” After a moment, she sighs, “But Wyatt comes from a different age. Back when I was a girl, people married as teenagers. Then it was taboo for a girl to be pregnant as a teen—didn’t they have a show about it?”
“Yes.”
“That wouldn’t have existed during my time, because it was perfectly normal. We were brought up differently. Family values were the most important thing. You didn’t run from the responsibility that entailed. That belief raised generations of strong family units, until divorce finally took hold and it became hard for people to work through problems when they had such an easy exit.” Glancing to me she adds, “Oh there were many flaws from my era, don’t get me wrong. Racism and segregation is a tragedy I never understood, and I’m glad our country finally came together. Also women not working for themselves, careers frowned upon, was the dumbest thing I ever heard of. But one thing we had was family values.”
“Are you saying Wyatt doesn’t have those?” I ask, confused.
She blinks, a smile tugging. “I’m not quite sure what Wyatt has or does not have. I’d like to know him better. I have seventeen great-grandchildren, did you know that?”
I return her smile. “Yes, you’ve told me.”
“I can’t know every one as well as the others. I only see them at Family BBQ’s and weddings and the odd birthday now and then when it’s extra special. But I have a keen eye, Diana.
