Would You Like To Dance?

Once upon a time, a nation had two princesses. One was beautiful; the other was ugly. Now, don’t tell me that everyone is beautiful in their own way or that beauty comes from within. Even if you believe such things, the fact of the matter is that everyone who had seen this princess, thought she was ugly. Consequently, for all practical purposes Princess Helga was ugly, and no one knew this better than Helga herself. Her younger sister, Rosaline, had dated countless suitors. Many had proposed, but Rosaline hadn’t accepted any until now. The king and queen threw a ball to celebrate the engagement, and as with all the balls held in the royal palace, Helga was required to attend.

She sat herself in a corner as far away from the candle-lit chandelier as possible, and she endured most of the night without any more embarrassment than was normal. Everything was going well until the dancing began, and Helga forgot to glare as she watched the other women dance with their partners.

Over the years, Helga had learned that it was much less painful to be angry than sad, and so instead of complaining and instead of imagining herself on the arm of some companion – any companion – Helga found it much easier to tell herself that she didn’t like to dance, that she didn’t like balls, and that she didn’t like men either. What did it matter if no one asked her to dance if she didn’t want to dance with anyone anyway?

But anger takes effort, and today Helga forgot to make that effort. In that moment of weakness, she felt the familiar longing in her chest to be seen, to be desired, and to be loved. The music was as joyous as her sister Rosaline’s resplendent laughter, but without movement the melody felt lonely. Watching her sister dance with her fiancé, Helga reminded herself that she did not need a man. She could certainly live a full and satisfying life without a husband. She could live as a bold and benevolent leader without a man beside her – and she probably would… but in that moment, watching the dancers, Helga was reminded that she didn’t want to.

“Would you like to dance?”

Helga’s thoughts were interrupted by a voice in her ear over the music. She turned to see a young man standing beside her with his hand extended towards her. He had dark eyes and a gentle smile. His voice was smooth, and his head was cocked slightly to one side as if when he was looking at her, he saw something he liked looking at – or at least that he wanted to look at a little longer.

The princess hesitated. The last time a man had asked her to dance, he had done it at Rosaline’s request. Helga didn’t want a pity partner… but she would really like to dance.

The next song was starting, and she found herself on the floor with him. His hands were on her hips, and her hands were on his shoulders. They swayed gently to the music like tree branches sway to the breeze. Helga wanted to be more excited that she was dancing, but the heat in her chest and face made it difficult to look the man in the eye. When she did meet his gaze, she found him smiling at her. Helga felt a weird mixture of awkwardness and excitement as the pace of the music quickened, and they were dancing to another song. She laughed. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“I like dancing with you.”

Helga didn’t know what to say, so she laughed again.

“Other people are looking at us,” he said, with the same contagious smile. “They must think we look good together.”

Helga raised her eyebrows as she glanced around the room. He was right; other people were watching them. “They’re watching because they haven’t seen me dance in seven years.”

“Seven years?” He raised his eyebrows. “You dance pretty well for being so out of practice.”

“No one can forget how to dance.” Helga said, blushing. “Do you dance much?”

“As much as I can,” he replied, with his smile. “If my parents approved, I would be a professional dancer, but unfortunately I must spend my time on things that are much less interesting.”

Helga pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows as she looked down.

“What?” he asked, seeing her face.

“You are a good dancer,” Helga said with a teasing smile, “but you’re not that good.”

He gasped in feigned insult. “I could certainly make it as a professional dancer.”

Helga shook her head, smiling, “you’ve almost stepped on my toes several times already.”

As if on cue, she felt his toe brush hers again, and he stumbled so as not to crush her food.

“There you go again,” she said.

He laughed, and his laugh made Helga’s heart dance. “Well, maybe it’s not my fault.” He said, matching her teasing grin. “You’re the one who hasn’t danced in seven years.”

Helga laughed too as the music stopped. As many people clapped for the musicians, Helga curtseyed to her partner. He returned her gesture with a low bow. “Perhaps we will dance again some time? I enjoyed this very much.”

Helga hesitated. Similar to her realization that sadness was more painful than anger, the princess had also learned that the absence of hope was less painful than dashed hopes. But hope could be so tempting sometimes…

“Me too. I also enjoyed dancing with you very much.”

His dark eyes twinkled in the candle light as he bowed again. They were interrupted, however, by the queen who reminded Helga that she must say goodbye to guests as they left the ballroom. Glancing over her shoulder, Helga let her mother pull her away from the dance floor.

Standing beside her sister, Helga did her best to be cordial to the departing party guests. When her dance partner reached the exit, he bowed to her father, to her mother, to Rosaline, and Rosaline’s fiancé. Approaching Helga, he took her hand, and Helga let him kiss it. His lips pressed gently just below the knuckles of her two middle fingers, and Helga felt heat rising up from her stomach to her chest and neck.

Rosaline put a gentle hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Who is this, Helga?”

“This is my dance partner,” Helga managed when he let go of her hand.

“It was a pleasure to dance with you tonight,” he said.

“The pleasure was mine.” Helga assured him. “And to whom do I owe this pleasure?”

The man cocked his head slightly – the same way he had cocked it at her when they first met, but there was more of a question in his eyes this time.

“What’s your name?” Helga clarified.

He cleared his throat. “Would you like to dance?”

Helga blinked. He was still standing beside her with his hand extended towards her. His gentle smile had trembled after her long hesitation, and Helga wondered if the tinge of fear in his eyes came from a fear of rejection. His voice was still smooth, and his head had cocked slightly farther to the side as he waited for her answer.

Her eyes studied his face. In her three-second fantasy she had imagined that he looked older. She had also made him five or six inches taller when, in reality, he was only just barely taller than Helga herself. Looking down at his hand, she was reminded again of the moment she had learned that her last partner had been a set-up. She remembered how humiliated and deflated she had felt. This partner might not be any different. Or perhaps he felt bad for her, thinking her just as ugly as everyone else did. Or perhaps in this corner of the room he hadn’t really seen her face, and the realization of her hideousness would reach him when they stepped into the light of the dance floor. Maybe then Helga would watch the repugnance creep across his face quietly like dusk creeps across the evening sky. The thought made Helga’s face hot with anticipatory shame.

Over the years she had learned that bypassing an opportunity was much less painful than coming face to face with a rejection.

But hope could be so tempting sometimes…