One More Dance by Renee Espriu 05/11/2011

   It was a beautiful sunny afternoon in May, which was rare these days with seemingly endless rain falling out of Winter and Spring not seeming to  arrive. Shultzy and I had just finished our lunch out after Sunday services and as we left the restaurant he took my arm. He was still a handsome fellow, my Shultzy, in his best suit and tie and even though his hair was a shock of white he still had hair! Even I had my hair still permed and wore one of my dress skirts and jackets and a blouse with little flowers on it. Shultzy would give me a ‘wink’ and tell me how beautiful I am and you know, when he says it I believe him and feel young all over again.

     I’m Rose and Shultzy is his nickname. His given name is Carl but early on people started calling him Shultzy. We’ve been married nigh on 65 years now and we each have our own canes. His is long and straight and was fine when he stood taller, closer to his height of 6′ 5″ but now he stoops over, nearly in half, and the cane looks more like he is feeling his way instead of helping to keep him standing. Mine, on the other hand, is shaped like one of those candy canes you see everywhere around the holidays only without the red and white stripes. I should be taking his arm and I once did, so it wasn’t always like this. No, we were young once and so much in love. The walk to the car is slow like two turtles, heads bent forward with tiny childlike steps and as we walk I remember how we met as if it were only yesterday.

      There use to be a dance hall in the town where I lived called “The Blue Waltz”.  Not sure why, because we did every kind of dance there you can imagine and oh! how I loved to dance. My girlfriends and I would go there on a Friday or Saturday night and if there wasn’t anyone to dance with it didn’t matter. We had each other and we danced the Fox Trot, the Lindy Hop and the Charleston and sometimes even a slow dance like the waltz. Those were good times back then and I couldn’t be happier but all of us, including me, were always looking around at the fellas. We always thought, just maybe, if we were lucky, there would be that one handsome guy that would be looking too and ask one of us to dance.

     This one Saturday night the girls and I got together and gussied ourselves up. We all had the latest fashions, skirts that hung loose with fringe on the bottoms that twirled when we danced and pull over short sleeve sweaters that felt soft as chenille. We had our hair bobbed as that was what everyone did back then. I would put pin curls in mine overnight and in the morning have the softest, small curls close to my head. Top that off with some face powder and red lipstick and we were set. We wore slip on shoes and if  I had worn a  band ’round the top of my head with a bit of a feather I would have been called a “Flapper” but that was before my time.  Had I been born later I would have been called a “Bobby Soxer” but I was somewhere in between.  Just like me to be somewhere in the middle but I still loved to dance and I could with the best of them.

     Well, we got there and the place was hoppin’! We hung back at first, just to have a look around, to see if any new fellas had come. I didn’t see him at first but he did see me and before I knew it, there he was standing before me, looking down, smiling. Why, I looked up into this handsome face of a man I had never seen before. I thought he must be visiting because I didn’t think he lived here. He said something and I don’t think I heard because my mouth was wide open and my eyes just stared. Then again and I heard, “May I have this dance?” I looked over at my girlfriends and they were staring too and then one of them gave me a nudge. So, of course, I said yes. We danced and danced and I didn’t want the night to end. Everytime we would finish with one dance, he would look at me and say, “Just one more time around the dance floor”, as if I would say no. I couldn’t see anyone there but him. Well, all these years later as Mr. and Mrs. Carl Schultz, I still can’t see anyone but him. Now here we are shuffling along as though the car is a mile away.

      Suddenly, my heart starts to beat fast and my hands are trembling and I can’t seem to get them to stop. Shultzy looks at me and asks if he should go get the car. Shultzy stopped driving a few years back so I drive now but he can see the panic in my face and without asking again he simply says, “You stay right here, Rose, and I’ll go get the car.” I don’t know what to do as my hands are shaking like a leaf in windy weather and they won’t stop but I don’t say anything and lean back against a post and wait. I hate for him to let go of my arm but he does and proceeds to the car, which is only a few feet away, with hesitant but firm steps until he reaches it. All I can do is watch and wait. He unlocks the door and puts his cane in the back before pulling his bent frame into our white sedan. He turns the ignition and backs up ever so slowly and pulls up to the curb next to where I am standing. It is all I can do to get to the car a few steps away and then to open the car door. He bends toward the door and pulls the latch and I am never so happy to see him there behind the steering wheel. The car is a ‘white steed’ and Shultzy is my knight in armor. I get seated and pull the door shut. He reaches over and touches my hand. “Are you going to be alright?” Like it is only yesterday I look over at the handsome man beside me and I can hear him say, “Just one more time around the dance floor.” I look at him, smile and nod and say, yes, of course.

© March 2011 Renee Espriu