The Dance

What you see here is the start of a big mistake. If you knew anything about me, you’d have told me to stop before I go so far that I’d be here, writing it all down. Now I have to put it all down. If I don’t, I know that I’m going to misunderstand things when they come back to me. 

Yeah, I won’t forget (my memory is too photographic). So…

Lisa…

Lisa Danistano: a girl who soon became a lady before I noticed quickly enough. Not that I would have halted the process in any manner, anyway. There were only a few blocks separating our homes when we were younger (me in the projects; her in something that looked like a mansion to me). We knew each other through elementary, high and so on. Even ran into each other at college (local and community). All good so far. Then there was the problem which I had ignored for far too long. Something that I could have handled if I possessed more courage and a real backbone: I had a very real crush on her.

Crushes come from childhood and inexperience; they belong to people who do not know any better. And it was all I knew. When my family did ask me about the girls at my school, it was a way for them to check and see if I had any success that they could not see.

“You have a little girlfriend now?”

“Mom...”

“Just checking. You never bring anyone here but your hoodlum friends from before...”

“Hoodlum friends?”

I should explain. My family stepped out of a cheap detective novel and never entered the modern world.

Seriously, this went on for quite a bit and I would just try to laugh it off. And heading off to university also helped (I was back only once a year and by then, they had pretty much given up on me having a girlfriend; never asked if I was gay or anything else, either; a complete loss). So, it was good for a while. I had courses I liked and some friends. Never really hung out with girls unless they came through one of those friendships, but I did not really mind. And just like they say, when you are not looking, that is when things slap you upside the head.

My sophomore year... We were being streamed into different groups based on our skills and grades. I was lucky enough to make it into lectures with professors who actually had some passion for their material, and that made it easy to follow and prep for tests and grades. But being prepared and inspired are not enough.

Lisa...

Why in the hell of hells was she in that room? No one said a damn thing about her making a change in schools when I called those “hoodlum friends” and asked about our neighbourhood. Instead, you got a list of disappointments and clichés: so-and-so in jail; the other so-and-so got someone pregnant and left town; last time I heard about so-and-so, he was begging for change on street corners, and the like. Not a word about it.

But she was there.

And she knew me.

“Oh, my god, it’s you!”

Not even subtle, that one. Right in front of a prof, some friends and staff. I heard it at my back and turned to see what I could not believe. She was dressed better than any student at any time had been dressed at that school, but he face was redder than red when I saw and confirmed what I had to believe. She knew me. All that time and she knew me.

“Lisa...”

“Yeah, yeah. I transferred over the summer and just... You got in! This is great!”

Most of the students had already sat down and the prof just stared at us (she was one of my favourites and I knew I would have to explain things to her later). And from there, it just grew. I guess you could say that we became friends. For the rest of the semester, we hung out with each other and often helped each other with the work. One big surprise I faced was that she was not as good at the material as I was. I still remember walking into one of our study groups – I was late for some reason – and she was putting some work up on the board for a few others I had invited along. When I came in, I just said, “Hello,” looked at the board and frowned. It did not take me long to fix things up, but I kind of regret that I did not wait a bit. She looked mad while the others were pretty impressed. But she never stopped being a friend.

Like I said, this was the start of a big mistake.

One of the things I found out that year was there was a very large dance for sophomores at our school. I thought it was just another dull wine & cheese night, but there would be a proper DJ, alcohol, meals...and dancing (DJ thing should have made that clear). So, it would require a proper date.

I began to think about those “hoodlum friends” of mine. How would they approach a girl like Lisa? All these different scenarios started to play around in my head.

Maybe that was why I was not ready when she asked me to take her to the dance.

“Really? You wanna go?”

“Sure, why not?”

“With me?”

“Who else?”

“Like a date?”

I should have known to end with the questions, but they kept cropping up. And she kept smiling.

“I would love to go with you to the dance. Pick me up at...”

And that was that. I had a date for a dance that I barely knew about a few weeks earlier. And it was with Ms. Danistano. No one at the high school or in my neighbourhood would believe this one (never bothered to tell my family or “hoodlum friends” about this). It was really a dream.

It felt like one.

And that was why I never ended up at the dance.

I just could not do it.

What was I going to say to a girl like that? We had only spoken at university and I knew enough about her family and life by the end of the semester to not consider this a real possibility. A voice in my head kept telling me what things would be like if I continued to not listen to it. All my thoughts were against my own dreams.

So, that is why I skipped out of things and am writing all this down for some sort of permanent record. Please don’t hate a man who always let his instincts get in the way and cannot change who he is. I just hope she forgives me and that the dance was not too lonely for her.

I still wonder about her.