Dancing Fool

“I just can’t sleep,” Benny mumbled under his breath, resigning any further effort to try.  Despite the Melatonin and Tylenol PM, he had slept in a restless state throughout the night, rolling to one side and then to the other, wrapping himself like a cocoon in the bedding. And now, early morning sunlight filtered through the slats in the east window, casting striped shadows, showering the room with particles of dust and cat dander.  Horace lept on the bed, purring and searching for Benny’s nose, and finally finding it, licked him awake. His long right arm lifted out of the sheets and greeted Horace with comforting pats, but once he noticed the light and glanced at the alarm clock face showing 7:30, a paniced  flurry of arms, limbs, bedding, and cat flew off the bed and Benny hurried through his morning routine.  

Once out the door, and heading toward the Golden Planet Theater five blocks away, his anxiety increased. His breathing became quick and shallow and his heart raced. Benny went through his lines over and over, lines like, “Thank you Miss Potter, but you must wait in line with the others.”  Then practiced his dance moves bobbing his body and snapping his fingers to an imagined beat in his head.  The hip-hop audition dance steps were tricky.  It started with the Swaggy Arm Move with arms and legs swinging wildly and then transitioned to the Bart Simpson, bringing it in a bit ,and then ended with a smooth Dougie. He messed this up consistently, not remembering the correct beat to switch and getting his right and left legs tangled in the process. This stressed him the most because “natural dancer” was a term that hardly described him.  He avoided dancing at the clubs his friends dragged him to, offering to get the drinks, shuffling off to the restroom, flirting with girls who hugged the walls, and leaving early.  Despite this, his desire to try community theater was stronger. He had always dreamed of performing on stage and now was his chance. He neared the theater sweating and fretting over the dancing portion of his audition.  

By the time he rounded the corner and headed down Flint Street, sweat was seeping through his white cotton shirt showing a distinctive yellow stain under his armpits. He couldn’t control his quivering hands, so he hid them in his jeans pockets. Sweat also ringed the edge of his forehead and dripped down his temples. He stopped by the window of the second hand book store and his reflection shocked him.  He was a mess. He had to get a grip on himself before reaching the theater. 

Luckily, Benny found himself with several minutes to spare, auditions didn’t begin until 9:00. He slowed his pace to catch his breath and calm his heart. Just ahead of him, on the right, he noticed a navy blue awning jutting out over the sidewalk. “Connie’s Consignments” was spelled out in gold scripted letters. He’d never noticed this shop even though he’d passed by hundreds of times before. Curiosity drew him near the entrance. The top half of the stained wooden door was glass where an “Open” sign hung on a hook from the inside. The hand drawn sign on the storefront window, lettered in pink chalk paint stated,  “Second Chances are Waiting for You!”  Intrigue and the need for an unstained shirt drew him inside. The door creaked open and a bell rang as he entered. A tabby cat leapt off the counter and scurried to the back of the store showing no interest in him. Show tunes softly played in the background,  Bali Ha’i he thought from South Pacific. Such a soulful song he mused. Benny looked around to get his bearings. Crowded racks of clothing crammed the little shop. Women’s in the front, and men’s in the back. Framed artwork from local artists hung along the walls. Most were watercolor paintings of Broadway playbills, Damn Yankees, Nine, Lion King, Wicked, Damn Yankees, and the like. The middle of the shop opened up to a square shaped area with a raised wooden floor. A three way mirror anchored one side. Along another side were tables of handbags, shoes, and men’s ties. His eyes landed on an old stereo system topped with tens of 45 records and cassette tapes. It clicked a few times and  “Wash that Man Right Out of My Hair” began to play. Benny was tempted to soak up more of the store, but he reminded himself of his need to buy a fresh shirt, so he headed to the back straight for the men’s shirts.  

“Hellooo!” welcomed a small little woman, hunched over a cane. She approached slowly from the back room making her way toward him. Despite her old age and stooped body, she gave off an air of elegance. She was dressed in black from head to foot except for a multi-colored shawl draped over her shoulders. He could tell she had once been beautiful. Her makeup was perfectly applied and her white hair was pulled up in a tight, round ballerina bun.  

“Well, Hellooo! To you, too”  Benny replied, trying to appear calm and confident.

“How can I be of assistance to you young man?” the woman asked as she sized him up. Her eyes landed on his sweat marks, and she noticed his hidden hands.  She had seen this a million times. Aspiring novice actors came here often looking for the right outfit for a prospective part, or just like this young man she suspected, were so nervous they simply needed a new shirt to cover unsightly rings of sweat.   

Benny hung his head, shuffled his feet and told the old lady he needed a shirt, men’s medium. 

“You auditioning for the play next door? What is it….The Great Miss Potter is it?”

“Yes ma'am,  I’m auditioning for the part of Logan. I got the speaking parts alright, it’s just the dance moves that have me a wreck.”  Benny admitted. “I keep fumbling, getting my timing off, and messing up. The transitions during the hip-hop moves keep tripping up my legs and have me looking like a fool.”

The old woman nodded her head like she understood. He did look earnest and he was a wreck for sure. Something about his demeanor made him seem fragile, but at the same time willing to take a risk, and he was attractive with his puppy dog eyes and sandy blond hair, so she decided to help the poor young man.  

He watched as the lady waddled over to the storefront door, flipped the open sign to closed, and pulled the blinds down over the window. Nex,t she led him to the open space in the middle of the room in front of the large mirror he’d noticed earlier. 

“OK,” she said, flinging off her shaw and standing up a bit straighter. She threw her cane to the side. “First, you need to be inspired and in the mood. You can’t just do this in your head, you need some fuel!”  The old lady seemed to regress in age. Her skin shone brighter, and her eyes sparkled. She let her hair down and it bounced into the most beautiful blond curls halfway down her back. She grabbed a cassette, inserted it into the stereo, flipped a switch and a moment later Rapper’s Delight by The Sugarhill Gang began playing.  “We got six minutes,” she claimed. With that, she began to move.  Slowly at first with her eyes closed.  “We are dancing fools,” she whispered. The music picked up pace and suddenly the woman’s blue eyes shot open and her arms, legs, and hips began to move quickly in beat. She motioned Benny to join her.

In an odd sense of compliance, Benny approached her, slowly, and then just like a magical spell, he too began to feel the beat of the music and joined her. His hips snapped and his legs moved rhythmically. His inhibitions waned and he seemed at ease. Benny even started to grin and enjoy himself.  

“Next,” she continued her instruction, “you need to feel your uniqueness in the dance,” Her fingers snapped and her arms moved up and down while she turned from one side to the other. “Now if I know this part of the song in the play, the Swaggy Arm dance is the move that starts, right? And then transitions to the Bart Simpson?”  Follow me through the transitions.  She grabbed his hand and turned him so they were facing the same direction in front of the mirror.  

Benny didn’t know how she knew all this, but he didn’t ask. He just nodded his head and followed along, swinging his hips, moving his legs at varying speeds and using his arms to keep momentum. Finally he found his own style and kept up with the dance moves, even through the transitions. This new sense of confidence surprised him, he had never felt this ready and unstoppable. He owed it all to this strange little lady.

It seemed as though they danced together for hours, and Benny knew he needed to get to the theater soon. He worried that he would miss auditions altogether.    

“Thank you!” Benny huffed when the music stopped. He glanced at the clock and froze.  “Eight fifty, is that the correct time?” he asked.

“Of course,” she responded, “I always keep my clocks running on time.”

The clock, it seemed, showed no time had passed at all. How could that be?  Benny explained that he needed to leave, but that he really, really enjoyed her taking the time to dance with him and help him prepare. The woman tossed him a clean white shirt from the sales rack, and he changed quickly, nodding his thanks and placing a twenty on the counter. 

The old lady found her shaw and tossed it over her shoulders. She then  scrunched her hair back into a perfectly rounded bun, picked up her cane, and hunched over once again. She lifted her head to look up to him with her pearly blue eyes and she motioned with a crooked index finger for him to come closer. Once Benny was ear to her lips, she kissed him on his temple and began to whisper.

“You remind me so much of my first audition, so nervous and needing confidence.” She confided, “I”m telling you that before each dance routine, whisper these words to yourself…’I’m a dancing fool’ and you will always dance with perfection and grace. Now, go along and shine!” she smiled and pointed to the door.

Benny gave the woman a little squeeze for a hug and went along to his audition with a new sense of confidence. Strange, he thought, about the old woman in the shop.  If he got the part, no, when he got the part, he would have to return and thank her.  

Benny entered the old theater through the stage entrance as directed and signed in. He looked around the dimly lit backstage area to see roughly thirty other men and women waiting to audition. Some were sitting on folding chairs, some were pacing, and others were laid out on the floor, but all were going over lines anxiously waiting for their names to be called. Benny took a chair and did the same. When his name was called, his group was led to the stage and the audition process began. 

Benny’s speaking part went smoothly and he noticed the positive nods of the director and playwright. But then the dancing part of the audition began. He was standing center stage, in the front, along with six other actors. The prelude began and he thought what the hell ....”I’m a dancing fool”  he whispered. The music cranked up, the signal to start was given, and he was indeed a dancing fool, not missing a beat or transition. His legs seemed to know what to do, his hips snapped at the right times, and the motion with his hands gave him a unique style. His smile was beaming, not just because he knew his audition went well, but because of the little lady in the second hand shop who helped him so lovingly.  

He stayed around for an hour until the parts were announced. Several other actors did as well, each nervously pacing and hoping and praying for a part. Benny sat calmly, and when the parts were posted, his name was at the top in bold letters as the costar opposite a lovely woman named Constance, playing Miss Potter. She stood next to him now, noticing her name on the list, too. He looked down to her as she looked up. They both grinned, and he couldn’t help noticing her familiar bright blue eyes and wavy blond hair.  

“You were a dancing fool out there!’ she beamed. This shook Benny out the moment. These are the exact words the old woman told him to say…The old lady, he thought, I need to thank her. He nodded to Constance, grabbed his jacket ,and ran out the door on his way to thank the old woman. .

Rounding the corner towards the second hand store, he slowed to a stop. What had once been “Connie’s Consignments”  was boarded up, a large “CLOSED” sign hung on the door. The sign itself, old and cracked, appeared to have been there a long time. The awning was missing altogether. He held his hands up over his eyes to peer through the window. It was empty, dusty, quiet, abandoned. No clothing racks, no mirrors, no displays or artwork along the walls. But down at the bottom on the window sill was an old yellowed piece of paper, the size of a business card. It read: 

Benny…

Remember, whisper …

”I’m a Dancing Fool,” 

and it will work…like magic.   

I’m a dancing fool, too, 

 -Connie

Benny blinked a few times and leaned against the brick wall to think about the events of the day, from his restless night, to Connie dancing with him, to the talented young woman he will be playing opposite, Constance. Was this a coincidence? Was it somehow magical? Or was this his sleep deprived mind playing tricks on him. He looked back in the direction of the theater and then back to the empty consignment store. Exhausted for sure, he hadn’t slept well for days, Benny shook his head and grinned.  Either way, he was going to play the part of Logan opposite a mysterious and beautiful girl, Constance. He spontaneously started to  dance like a fool, swinging his arms, popping his hips, snapping his fingers, and shuffling his feet. Benny glanced at his reflection.  The man in the storefront window smiled, dreams do come true. and he headed on home to finally get some sleep.