Dancing Machine
by Shauna Checkley
part 1
Ruth moved the jigsaw piece about the edge of the puzzle, hoping to connect it somewhere. But to no avail. The great sea of disconnect before her seemed unfathomable, an unnavigable cardboard mess.
She sighed. She dropped the jigsaw piece. She reached for her coffee instead.
Beautiful Simone snatched it with her paw.
Ruth chuckled. For the cat had been outraged by her interest in the puzzle since she began working on it, batting wildly, trying to lie across the puzzle, one bold attempt to run off with a piece in her mouth. Yet just as quickly as Ruth ceased working on the puzzle, the cat lost interest in it as well and trundled away.
The cat’s moniker had changed from Simone to Beautiful Simone. Once Ruth had moved in with her son Terry and begun to glory over the seal-point Himalayan’s lush looks and truculent nature. It had happened once before. Years ago, when their old family cat, Honey, eventually became affectionately known as Dear Heart, an appellation that stuck with her until she passed away and was found stiff under the porch.
Leaning back on the couch, Ruth sipped her coffee. Wonder if Terry will be home for supper tonight? Should I phone him? But she stifled the impulse to phone her grown son. He is an adult after all. Allow him his space.
* * *
Terry drummed his thumbs on the Formica countertop. Staring out the huge store front window, he watched as the city traffic whizzed past. He was there alone. His crew were out on service calls. Ross, the crew Boss, had phoned in sick. Someone had to mind his business, Electric Royale. So, he had elected to stay behind and man the cash register and the phone. He preferred it that way too.
Could slip downstairs. Could work on becoming a badass dancing machine. Nah, better not. It’d be just my luck that someone would come through the front door. Somebody like Bob. He pictured the tall, long-necked misfit who was alleged to secretly imbibe while at work in the maintenance department of the city’s largest Catholic high school. Still, he was fond of Bob. As through drunken incompetence, he had turned into one of his best customers over the years. Mind you, I could always take my phone with me, that’d cover any incoming calls. Nah. Better just stay put.
So, he began to dance on the spot. Occasionally, he twirled right around. He stopped only to take a pull from his Rock Star drink. Can’t wait to go to the Casino tonight! Gonna dance, dance, dance...
Alternative dancing had become his passion as of late. Since Jenny left him two years ago, it had become his new focus, his outlet. He attended every concert, any event that allowed him to bust a move. Terry believed it was cathartic after all. It gave him a pastime in a life that had gone awry, that deconstructed one step at a time. He was even surprised to learn through Google that there were more dance names than there were names for God.
To others, he may appear drunk or possibly unhinged with his arty dance moves. The graying, balding, middle-aged guy, all alone but dancing with a feverish intensity that others half his age could scarcely muster. He sometimes noticed that he was given lots of space on the dance floor, ample leeway for the drunken maniac, it seemed. But Terry remained unruffled. He happily took advantage of this proverbial line drawn on the dance floor. Gives me all the foot room I need, to get my dance on...
The phone rang.
“Good afternoon, Electric Royale. Terry speaking.”
It was Bob! Terry marveled silently at what he believed was a synchronicity. God or the universe or whatever really does work in mysterious ways just as is said.
“Could I get you guys to come and check a bay of lights that crapped out?”
“Sure, I’ll make up a work order right away.”
“Thanks, man. Bye.”
“Bye now.”
* * *
Ruth then recalled Terry mentioning that he was going to a show at the Casino tonight. That’s right! Sipping the last of her coffee, she decided to just make a sandwich for supper. It will be all that I need.
Still, the whole situation worried her. Terry goes out all the time now, usually several times a week. Ruth knew that this is likely the behavior of any newly single person, Terry being no exception of course. It’s what’s to be expected.
Yet she didn’t think he was in search of a mate or even seeking the company of others, beyond that of his old mother. He just seemed only to cherish his own company and that queer way of dancing he had taken such a fancy to. Ruth couldn’t understand it. She had watched him practicing in the basement one evening with that horrible, deafening music, the contortions and sudden leg kicks, arms pumping furiously, violent turn-arounds that seemed to her more like martial arts than dancing per se.
Whatever happened to the graceful twirls, beautiful waltz moves by couples passionately linked? It was beyond her. It seemed more indulgent that social, that’s for sure. But to each their own. Dancing is harmless after all. There are so many bad things my only child could be into that I should be thankful that he has chosen only to dance away his misery, not lapse into liquor and dope and what have you. Praise God!
Ruth suspected it had a lot to do with the breakup. Terry was much like Roy, her late husband, the Stuart men unable to express emotion but able to speak through bursts of action or activity, nails pounded, cables ran from room to room, three generations of electricians now.
She had tried to speak to her son about his feelings over the dissolution of his marriage. And he was able to divulge bits of affect here or there. But he would also rush away once he became teary-eyed, shaken. She had learned not to press him on the issue. It’ll come in time. He’ll open about it when he can.
Ruth couldn’t believe that Jenny, his ex, was capable of such deceit. That fresh-faced girl with the silky hair and the smokey gray eyes, with the shy, almost faraway manner didn’t seem capable of the intrigues that put her online then back into the arms of some old flame. Earl-whatever-his-name-is.
It didn’t seem possible when Jenny dutifully struggled through all the lean years with Terry, working side by side with him to establish their fledgling business. Nor when Ruth saw Jenny consoling girlfriends over strong cups of coffee about their faltering marriages and unravelling lives. Yes, how could it be? Ruth had wondered at length about the whole debacle, especially in those quiet times when she was all alone in the house and marveled at its secrets.
Feeling Beautiful Simone rubbing, Ruth patted her. Wonder why Terry was so adamant about the cat, especially when he hardly seems to notice her? When Jenny left, Terry refused to give up Simone, even threatening to hire the most expensive lawyer in Western Canada to ensure he got custody of the cat, bankrupting them all if need be. Hence Jenny’s decision to leave Simone behind.
Ruth sighed. She never could make sense of the whole fiasco. But she felt the need for the supper sandwich. So, she went to the kitchen with Beautiful Simone at her heels.
* * *
Though he would have loved to dance with his eyes shut, Terry didn’t dare, because it was a public venue, after all. It wasn’t crowded, in fact, the only other person dancing was another guy situated closer to the stage. Someone he vaguely recognized with his long platinum blond locks and rocker persona. Terry then continued to dance wide-eyed at the back of the dance floor.
The Casino Show Lounge was sold out with a mostly older crowd in attendance. Some of the younger fans came in full face paint, emulating their favorite character. The ambience was carnival-like with even a smoke-and-light show. But Terry wasn’t there so much for the Kiss Tribute band. Rather, he just wanted to dance and welcomed any chance to emerge from his basement and into the real world. That’s all.
Slight of build, Terry did have a dancer’s physique after all. He wore a T-shirt and black Adidas sweatpants. Moving until he could feel sweat building on his brow and upper lip, until he felt his breath occasionally catch, he was elated. It was a workout and therapy all in one. He was glad to be there.
But once the dance floor began to fill up, he toned down his flamboyant moves and stayed and swayed in his own corner. He would pause only to chug down some ice water.
He purposefully kept his distance from women, as he believed they represented only headache and drama. Especially this party crowd, he knew. He didn’t even like to stare into the pretty blonde faces for too long in fear of catching a glimpse of his ex, Jenny.
Terry was still reeling from their breakup. Though it had been two years ago, he was impacted as if it had been a car crash or train wreck. An emotional upheaval that he was wont to sort through or make sense of. Why did she do that after twenty-seven years of marriage? I thought those were good years. I never drank or beat her or anything. So, what was the problem anyhow?
Then he recalled the words of Ruth, his mother, who observed, “The grass is always greener... Especially if it’s digital grass.”
Damn computer! Was she doing that at work or just at home behind my back? He pictured himself walking innocently about while she minimized screens or X’d quickly out, deleted all messages, search history, everything. Did everyone at work know and snicker behind my back? Probably. They are such ungrateful creeps, too...Especially Ross.
It was the betrayal as much as the loss that spoke to him with such grievous intensity. But whatever. This is modern love, he believed, a sure sign of the times.
Terry didn’t believe the narrative that human relations were expendable. He saw beyond the lies, shadows, and contradictions of liberalism. He valued marriage. He believed in family. He took his vows very seriously, not like others who mumbled the words as they stood hung over and dazed under the bright lighting, nursing both a pounding headache and lingering regret. Rather, he aimed to establish a successful union here on earth that would perhaps follow into the afterlife, something his devout mother referred to.
Swaying back and forth on the dance floor, rhythmically rocking his hips, Terry recalled how he and Jenny first met. It was on the dance floor. Terry had always loved to dance. Jenny too. “So glad that you’re not a cowboy and you’ll actually get up and dance.” Jenny cheerfully noted that first evening.
He had bought the white dress pants that were en vogue back in the day especially at Disco Inferno where every slouching male sought to be Travolta-like and cool. They smiled shyly at one another. They boogied. And as both had been using borrowed, fraudulent I.D.’s they were promptly ejected upon a police raid. Then they went to a nearby pizza joint. And while sharing fries, they forged a life union.
Just for a moment, Terry reveled in the memory but winced as a blundering drunk crashed into him, returning him to the darkened, din of the Show Lounge.
It was Bob. His customer at Electric Royale. Was this synchronicity number two?
“How the hell are ya?!” Bob slurred, sprayed.
* * *
Copyright © 2022 by Shauna Checkley
