WORK IN PROGRESS: The Dancer

Decisions

The music blared, it was another team get together. Another celebration.  I wasn't feeling it as much this week.  after another week of going to bed alone and waking up to just a body beside me,  my heart was getting sore. There was no effervescent Portuguese in my life.  Just the memory of it.

I went through the moves,  in the flashing coloured lights. Accepted the drinks from strangers and promptly lost them without tasting them.  Danced with people I barely knew.  And smiled the fakest smile I could. What was an act of finding myself last week,  became an act of torture this week. I needed something else.

I climbed the stairs to home. The melancholy that had been my constant companion since Sunday was hugging me like a drunk best friend. I was finding it hard to walk with it steadied across my shoulders weighing me down. I wanted to cry,  but my melancholy and I weren't at that level of emotional connection yet. Besides it's melancholy.  That's always the dramatic stage before crying.

I snorted as I unlocked the door. Time to be real. This wasn't melancholy or depression or any romantic delusion. This was me grieving the end of my relationship.  Juan may not have realised,  but I did.  He'd moved on.  It was time for me to move on as well.

I sat down and pulled out my laptop. It was lucky I was still not sleepy. Sad, not sleepy. I opened the vacancies pages. An email came in, the alert popping up in the corner of my screen. A response to a question that I'd sent a while ago. It was exactly what I'd been looking for.

An invitation to participate in the cultural analysis project.  I would be working closely with an anthropological team, recording the local culture of a group of indigenous people in a remote location.  I accepted the invitation

It was only a two to three month posting.  But that time away would give Juan time to fully concentrate on his dancing, if he wasn't already. And me? It would give me space to grieve fully the dissolution of my relationship. I closed my eyes and let the tears roll down my face.

There was so much to do tomorrow, so much to organise. I'd have to find someone to take my plants.  Tomorrow.  Tonight was for grief, and melancholy. Tomorrow for action.  Tonight for wallowing in dramatic despair.

The door unlocked and opened.  I quickly wiped the tears off my cheek.
"Destiny? Meu Bem, you're still awake? Why?" Juan walked in.  He looked horrible.  His fatigue written across his face. I shook my head,  tears flowing still. He dropped his bag,  and came over to hold me.
"Minha Vida, what's upsetting you?" He tucked my head under his chin,  and I let him.  It still felt good being in his arms. 
"I'm lonely." I whimpered.
He kissed my head.
"Is not for much longer, this dance,  Emma, it is new.  We're still working things out. It will be easy soon." He tried to reassure me. It didn't work. It has been 3 months of 'new'. It was now old. I sighed and relaxed into him.  Tonight was also goodbye.

For once he woke up in the morning when I did. 
"Meu Querida,  are you feeling any better?" He mumbled as I rolled out of his arms.
"Define better?" I asked. He frowned.
"We need to talk." He admitted.  He had worked it out. I nodded.  Yes we did... probably about 2 months ago when the problems first started appearing. But yes we needed to talk.
"I will finish tonight,  we have practice again today, but tonight we will talk." He lifted his head to look at the time,  and groaned. "I have to go, Chuchu. The dragon lady will be waiting." He rose like a zombie and lumbered into the bathroom. I watched him go with tears in my eyes. 

We didn't talk that night.  Dragon lady kept him late. We didn't talk the next day either.  Dragon lady set extra rehearsals. Weekend was done. I went to work, while he slept off his weekend. I received my flight and transport details for my new posting. I came home,  he was dancing at the studio. I went to sleep,  he came home.  I woke up,  he was still sleeping.  I said goodbye to my colleagues, wished them well,  agreed to stay in touch, thanked them for their support,  said I'd see them in 3 months, or less if they visited. Juan went to practice. That night I went to practice too.

The studio was less friendly,  there were less people for one. But also there was a feeling of hostility about the studio. The setting was the same as last time,  with subtle differences. The screaming was coming from the dressing room again.  But no one was laughing, I didn't have food, People gave me side eye, and I went straight to the dressing room.

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Emma was pacing up and down, still the pinnacle of perfection.  Juan was standing still holding his head. 
"IT'S NOT THAT HARD!!" She screamed at him, and then she caught sight of me. "Oh, Food's arrived." She chirped happily, and trotted out of the dressing room. Juan lifted his head and caught my eye.  His face beamed in happiness.
"Destiny,  you're here! I've missed you!" He reached for me and kissed both cheeks. I kept my arms folded around myself.
"We haven't talked." I looked up at him.
"No," He smiled,  "but we will." His hand slipped around my waist,  and I almost had second thoughts about leaving.
"Destiny?! Where's the food?" The screech got closer along with frustrated heel clicks as Emma stamped towards us.
"I, I didn't bring any,  I came to talk with Juan." I said as she drew level with us.  Her hands on her hips.
"Well, you can wait until he gets home. This is valuable practice time!" She snapped, grabbing his arm and dragging him away.
"I'm sorry, Meu Bem. Emma calls." He laughed. I blinked away the tears and walked back to the car. I tried.

At home, I packed the bags.  I also wrote Juan a note and put it near the coffee machine.  Then I called the Uber, and left for the airport.