spinning

Dorian was the first guy I slept with. We had been dating for 4 months (and 12 days), we were watching a movie at his place and as the credits rolled on the screen I ask him if wanted to have sex. He said yes. Jonah was the first guy I kissed. We had been friends for 7 years, he had fallen over while we were racing down our street and I wanted to cheer him up, it lasted for half a second. We got up and raced again.

Dorian and I have now been dating for a year, currently I am thirty minuets into a run, my lungs are thumping against my chest, forcing me to choke out air. This physical torture is my least favourite thing about long distance running. The feeling, like a thousand thistles have sprouted under my sweaty red skin. I prefer sprinting. With sprinting it’s all over so quickly your body doesn’t have time to protest, but ever since I started track my coach has told me I got to improve my stamina. So here I am. Sweating my way to victory.

Track makes running deliberate and planned, different to how I’m used to thinking about it. I never considered the purpose of running before track, I would be walking and then I would just start moving faster. No greater reasoning, just the want for a rush of speed. Of course, I was younger back then. Back when the only time running had a purpose was when Jonah and me would race each other. Even then it was erratic and undisciplined running. We would never announce the challenge or wait for a starting pistol or a flag to drop, one of use would just start running and wait for the other to realise the gauntlet had fallen and the challenge called. The only times Jonah beat me would be when I was too distracted to realise the race had started. I would turn around and see him at the other end of the street, far away enough that I could pinch my fingers together in front of my eye and crush him between my finger and thump. After I few moments of revenge by crushing I would chase after him.

I can see Dorian’s house come into view, I slow down wanting to catch my breath and hopefully calm some of my sweaty redness before I see him. I look up at his House. It always reminded me of a carefully frosted wedding cake, all white and lacy and grand. Dorian is as sweet as his house looks and I love him for it. In fact I love him so much I even willingly promised to go to prom with him tonight, he loves all the grand social events. In return for my acceptance he promised me I wouldn’t have to dance. I don’t really like dancing, unlike running there’s no one direction, no one-way you can do it. There’s hundreds of different ways, to a hundred different songs with a hundred different variations. In running I’ve only ever moved straight ahead, besides the time and Jonah and I tried to run the length of the street backwards, which in hindsight was a bad idea.

I told Dorian I never danced in public, but that’s no strictly true. I danced one time at a festival with Jonah. The autumn festival held in my tiny hometown every year, I used to love it but I haven’t been since I was eight. We spent the day picking apples, half of which ended up being makeshift hockey pucks, grenades and juggling balls as the monotony of our task set in. Then we went to the festival, as it got darker they turned on the lights and thousands of little sparks adored the trees that circled the town square, an artificial fairy ring. The music started and then the dancing, everyone from the smallest child to the oldest grandma was joining in, except me. I was sitting on some steps watching this mass spectacle of movement. No one was dancing the same dance but they all had the same community thrill in each step, the energy in the movement could have powered a supernova. It was majestically joyful I was grateful to be so near to it, but then I was yanked from my solitary step and pulled to my feet my Jonah.

‘What you doing?’ I said yanking my wrist back.

‘Getting you to join in dumbass’ said Jonah. Both of us had to raise our voices a bit to be heard over the country droll of the band.

‘I don’t know how’ I said firmly, practically stamping my foot.

‘Its easy. What you scared Ammy?’ Jonah mocked.

Before he could continue in his taunting I grabbed him by the front of the shirt and marched towards the dancers, dragging him behind me.

‘I’m not scared!’ I said through gritted teeth ‘See?’ I stood firmly on the edge of the dancing.

Jonah rolled his eyes, grabbed both my hands and spun me round and round. As we span I felt the music tear into my lungs. We spun and jumped to the beat of the music then ran dizzily through the other dancers, circling them like bees round a hive. I was the most fun I ever had and it was the first and last time I danced in public.

I haven’t told Dorian about that, I haven’t told Dorian about Jonah. When I started at my new school in the city, I decided I wouldn’t keep my old life a secret, I don’t know why or when I decided this, I just did. None of my friends know the old me neither does Dorian. He only knows the girl that goes to parties and has an army of friends, the girl that’s the darling of all her teachers and who’s never gotten in trouble. He knows Amata but he’ll never meet Ammy.

I often wonder if the life I spend in the city with my boyfriend, at school, at house parties or getting burgers from Bens Diner is a secret, or if my hometown life, where I sleep and eat (if I’m haven’t already had diner at Dorian’s, or Cassie’s or Brooke’s) is the secret. My hometown life is probably the secret one since I actually have people to keep it hidden from. I have no one to hide things from at home, most people all ready think they know everything about me or have forgotten me. The time I spend in the city all feels fake sometimes. Even Track feels fake, the running is planed, almost simulated.

But, then again, as I knock on Dorian’s front door and see his sharp eyes and glowing smile as he opens it, nothing feels more real than this.

‘Hey, Beautiful’ he says leaning his arm against the doorframe. I laugh as I duck under it and walk into the house.

‘You think I look beautiful in this whole red-faced sweating-like-a-pig look, you’ll probably faint dead away when you seen me in my prom get up tonight’ I say as I walk into the kitchen, Dorian following close behind ‘In fact, I better just leave the dress at home go in my sweaty gym shorts, to spare you the inconvenience of death by little black dress’ 

‘You’ll look amazing either way’ he smiles at me passing me the bottle of water I didn’t ask for but needed.

I scowl and take the water from him. ‘I hate how hard it is to wind you up’ I say before glugging down half the bottle.

‘Really?’ he says in a fake inquisitive tone, ‘Cause’ I seem to remember you saying my unflappability was thing you loved most about me’

‘Actually I said your state of the art bathroom was the thing I loved most about you. You should start working your memory loss there sweetie. I’m going to take shower and start to get ready. Love ya Dory’ I say giving him a quick peck before racing out of the kitchen, Dorian’s chant of ‘Don’t call me that’ following me,  as I enter the, truly astonishing bathroom. The giant bath and the mirror that covered the entire wall is one of the main reasons I decided to get ready here.

A long shower, some plucking, shaving, scrubbing, painting, blotting, styling, squeezing and two hours later I’m ready to go. It didn’t take me too long to get ready, at least compared to Cassie who I knew for a fact had started prepping this morning and still hadn’t stopped, I know this because she has been texting me updates all day telling me about every tiny disaster. She called me in tears a little while ago cause she had dropped and broken her new eye shadow palette and the little blocks of colour had cracked into dust.

Dorian exclaims and mimes collapsing when he sees me, I laugh as I give my self a last minuet check in the mirror. Dorian, behind me, wraps his arms around me and rests his chin on my shoulder. Look at our reflection, me in my dress him in his tux, the child in me marvels at how grown up we look.

We drive to the Venue, meeting our friends outside. I give Cassie an extra big hug and congratulate her on solving the great eye shadow disaster of 2020. Praise she rightly deserved, she looks incredible. We all do.

We walked in and the first thing I register is the mass of moving fabric. The swab of muliti coloured dresses set against black and white palettes,almost all, dancing under blue light.

We sit at a table, some of our group head straight for the dance floor but a few of us hang back. I keep my eyes on the show, it’s mesmerising to see all these people dancing the same song on the same floor, under the same blue light, smelling the same concoction of sweat and perfume, but all completely in their own worlds. I had an unrelenting urge to charge into the wave of swaying couples, to run circles around them, to add a bit of chaos to the calm.

I stand up suddenly and turn to my boyfriend ‘Lets dance’ I say.

Dorian looks at me confused, but I smile to him and stretch out my hand, which he takes. We walk towards the mass of serene movement. I link my hands round his neck coping the couples around us and he places his on my waist and we join the tide.

I can’t help wonder what eight year old me would do here, I think she would be running through the crowed, spinning on the spot like a hurricane her head turned up, eyes wide watching the lights spin, Jonah beside her laughing at her dizzied state. It would be like that one time we danced, I would feel the freedom of chaos of that moment again, the feeling I’ve only ever managed to recapture with the help of a few drinks, even then the feeling is artificial, the freedom a lie, the chaos man made.

As Dorian and I dance I can feel everything, the light pressure of his hands on me, the movement of people around us, the eyes of our friends on us, but most of all I feel the quiet. Even with the music the room feels silent like everyone is holding their breath. Looking up at Dorian I think of every little thing he doesn’t know about me, everything I haven’t told him: Jonah the town, it all runs circles around my mind.

And what about Jonah? There’s so many things about me he doesn’t know. Things that aren’t even secrets because I never seem him long enough to get round to not telling something. The last time I saw him, two years ago on a rare weekend I spent at home instead of with my friends,we exchanged meaningless small talk in the cookie aisle of the local Tesco.  I love Dorian completely, but in that moment two years ago I knew that Jonah could ask me for anything, to do anything, I would do it, and yet I still couldn’t hold a conversation with him. Often, when I’m remembering something from when I was young and with Jonah, my memory blurs and I cant remember which one of us stole the neighbours cat or ate an entire birthday cake in one go or broke their arm trying to do a hand stand. Sometimes it’s like me and him were one being sharing all the same experiences even the same mind.

I dance I little longer with Dorian then, when the music picks up I dance with my friends each of us pausing in turn to subtly take swigs of vodka from a flask. The, the heat of the room starts to become overwhelming, so I step out for a breather, and a guilty cigarette. I don’t know if it was the sudden attack of nostalgia or the vodka but with the barest minimum of thought I take out my phone and dial a number I haven’t called in years, one I can’t even remember putting in my contacts list.

‘Hello, you’ve reached the voice mail of Jonah Hill please leave a message after the-‘

I hear the beep like a call to battle.

‘Hey Jonah, it’s me Ammy. Amata.

Anyway, I won my race last week and broke the school record for fasted one hundred meter sprint. I don’t know why I wanted to tell you that but- I think I only got good at running to annoy you, the look on your face when you lost our races was the best motivator I ever had. Then when I left… the race was over so I found I new way to run. So thank you I guess, if you weren’t such a sore loser I probably wouldn’t have taken running seriously.

Anyway I think I called to say sorry. So, I’m sorry I left school, I’m sorry I left you, I was your friend and- and now we haven’t been friends for years but its like we’re plants and we like grew together? Its like no matter how much we run in opposite directions its like our roots are still knotted together Youknowwhatimean?

Anyyywayyyyy I just wanted to tell you that you were a cool friend and I’ll always be here if you need someone to run with.

Hope you have a goodnight Jo. I love ya”

I pull the phone away from face, calmly press the delete message button, considered throwing it against the wall and take a long drag from my cigarette.

‘Amata?’

I turn around to see a concerned looking Dorian.

Shit. How long has he been there?

‘You’ve never told me you smoked’ he says in a hurt tone walking towards me and taking the offending cigarette out of my hand.

‘Can’t a girl have a secret or two’ I say lightly taking his hand in my mine.

‘Not ones that end in her dying’ he says firmly

‘I’m sorry I know you hate it I’ll stop. Can talk about his later’ I say pulling him into a hug. ‘Come on lets go back. I wanna dance some more’.

‘Fine. But we are going to be discussing this after’ he says putting his arm around me and walking me back inside.