HAPPY | ✔

10.5 DANIEL: MIDNIGHT MEMORIES

🎶NIGHT CHANGES🎶 - One Direction

"Moving too fast.
Moon is lighting up her skin.
She's falling, doesn't even know it yet."

"The morning, after the first night we'd spent together, we walked through Central Park and I dared you to ride on the carousel even though you were terrified."

"I regretted that decision the moment it began to spin," she laughed lowly, "I felt like I was gonna throw up. You couldn't pay me to do it again."

"You said you had to go, but I didn't want you to leave...me. You got mad. Very mad. We got a taxi and when you got home, you left. You didn't say goodbye. You ran off as if you could not have gotten away from me fast enough. I felt like I had done something wrong, said something wrong."

"You didn't-"

"Yes, I did. I made it about me.  I tortured myself, going over and over in my head, trying to figure out where I went wrong. As if I was the only one that mattered."

The strip was too bright for the stars to shine, but in her eyes I saw the reflection of a thousand lights. I saw my future plotted in the skies.

I would be hers. A husband. A father. Theirs.

"You were running home to her."

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"We're only getting older baby, and I've been thinking about it lately. Does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes?

This place was amazing. Loud and beautiful and amazing. Captivating in the way New York was, in the way people were.

We walked the strip for hours. There was so much to see. The live shows, the performances, all the sights and entertainment. We got so caught up, I ended up calling to postpone our flight back for a few hours.

I had been to many places across Europe and the Caribbean, but tonight was different. It felt different. It surpassed the surface level wonder of every tourist. I knew it had very little to do with the location, and everything to do with the company.

The three of us walked hand in hand, Joyce and I swinging Odette between us. She laughed and begged us to do it again and again. When we would, she'd clinch her knees up so she would hang inches above the ground, smiling like a clown.

"Oh my God. Mom she's just like you!" She broke away from our combined grip and sprinted into the crowd.

"Odette!" I panicked, running after her, shouldering my way through the throng of people with Joy on my heels.

My effort proved to be of little use. She hadn't gone far.

She had run towards a street performer, one of the thousands saturating the strip. There must of been trice as many as in New York.

There was a wooden platform, not even half a metre elevated from the ground. A dancer in a white dress was centre stage, her dark hair in a bun. She was on pointe, whipping her leg around, propelling her turn over and over again. Her head was tilted to the skies but her eyes remained closed, and I knew, without a doubt, she was somewhere else.

"Mom she's just like you!"

I turned to look at Joyce. She was busy scolding Odette, warning her to never do that again, desperately shaking her child by the shoulders.

"Are you crazy? You know better!"

Odette was contrite, nodding along to everything her mother said, promising to be better.

"You stay where I can see you. Do you hear me?"

She shook her head like a toy bobble head. "Yes Mommy."

She ran to the foot of the stage and turned to check if her spot was alright. Joyce watched her go, and with a weary sigh, nodded her okay.

She was swaying in her heels, like a ship listing on the seas. I pressed my chest against her back and settled my hands on her hips. She didn't complain, only leaned into me in seeming relief.

"What did she mean?"

"Huh?" I had a feeling she knew exactly what I meant but couldn't understand why she would pretend otherwise.

"She said she's just like you, but we both know you can't dance for shït."

She chuckled, but I was paying too much attention to miss the strain.

"Every girl wants to be a ballerina."

It was her attempt at putting an end to the conversation, but I wouldn't let it go just yet.

"You used to dance?"

"Yes," she was reluctant, "once upon a time."

I felt my eyes crinkling in confusion as I smoothed back her curls so I could utilize her head as a chin rest.

"So how come you couldn't dance with me that night. The night we met."

She was quiet for a time, and when she spoke, her words were barely above her silence.

"That's what happens when God gives you a talent and you don't use it," Her words were so hushed I was left unsure if they were meant for me, "he takes it away."

She watched Odette watch the performance.

I looked on at the dancer, twirling gracefully as if she had spent all her life on her toes. But her face had been replaced by another's. One with an afro of kinky curls, wide lips and apple cheeks.

She was done talking for now and I was content to let her have her peace.

My mother would have said you can't rush something you want to last forever. 

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