A Dance to Remember

A word of advice, darling: don’t ever love anything or anyone. They’ll only end up shattering your heart, and then they’ll grind the broken bits up into dust, and make bricks out of it, and then they’ll brick you up where they no longer have to look at you.

Oh, hush, darling. I know you’re not like them. No, you’re special. You’re my special little guy. You’re the only one I can trust.

And it’s not like I was ever unreasonable, you know? All I ever wanted to do was dance, to have a full belly. To have someone that appreciated me, someone that respected me. That’s not too much, is it? Instead they buy microwaves and frozen foods and other space-age horrors.

Hmm. Are we here? Is this your place? It’s… quaint, darling. It’s quaint. Oh! I feel so naughty! I’m not supposed to be here – their rules – but I just can’t resist mon petit chou. If it were up to them I’d never get to see the light of day. But I’d spend every moment with you if I could.

You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?

I just loved dancing. Did you know that they worshipped me, long long ago? Way back when I was still a hot young thing. Oh, sure, at first they were afraid, and I won’t deny it – I had a bit of a playful streak. Well, pumpkin, a cruel streak too. I’d say I’d never hurt a fly, but of course I would. Everyone would. Nobody likes flies. I bit, if you believe it, but don’t worry, darling – I won’t bite you. Unless you stick those precious little fingers where they don’t belong, smooch-smooch. I’ll never forget that first night, when I was dancing under the stars after a wild storm in the forest, when my first suitor mustered up the courage to approach me. And oh, my sweet, were there ever sparks.

Oh, what’s that you’re doing love? Is that… food? Pour moi? Why, you shouldn’t have. Thank you, thank you, darling. That’s just lovely.

Well, where was I? Ah, yes. After that first one, something changed. I found kindred spirits, and I fell in love, hard. Yes, yes, more the fool I, but I couldn’t help it. And they made it so easy. They loved me back, then. Men, women, it didn’t matter. Not animals though. I can’t stand the beastly things. They’re just dumb and dull, but at least they have the decency to stay away from me.

Darling, thank you so much for indulging an old starlet. You simply have no idea what your rapt attention means to me. Your smile lights up the world.

Things couldn’t have been better in those early years. They adored me as I danced each night away. Oh, we were so good together. Don’t misunderstand me, mon chéri, this isn’t vanity talking. I really was beautiful. Incomparable. I still am, I daresay.

Oh, you charmer. Thank you.

But I was more than just a pretty face. So much more. I turned any house I entered into a home. I cared for everyone I met. It was I that made sure they were warm in the winter. It was me that kept them dry in the rain. Countless sickly children – the poor darlings – survived because of my care. And I cooked! Yes, it’s cliché I admit, but I was oh so very good at it. They all looked to me for help, for guidance, for inspiration, and my meals were simply the best. Again, dearie, I’m not bragging. I don’t have a vain bone in my body. This is all the simple truth, and we owe it to ourselves to be honest.

Well thank you for saying that. I knew I could count on you. You’re my special little ducky. Yes you are! I knew it the moment you were born. You’re one of the good ones.

I never complained about anything back then–

–Oh, what’s that delightful smell? Why yes, I would like a sip. Oh-ho, burns going down. That’s the right stuff, all right.

Ahem… right. As I was saying, I never complained about anything back then. It was a lot of work but they loved me for it. They respected me for it. Or, so I thought at the time. But the years wore on, we all got older, and things changed. I joked about just being another piece of chattel but then they started treating me like it. See, mere wonder and beauty was no longer enough for them. The magic of life gave way to the grey smear of mindless existence. They were no longer alive, they just went through the motions, and my youthful mystique – oh, pardonnez-moi, darling, this is hard to talk about – it no longer charmed anyone.

All my old loves burned out. Disrespect took root, and the only time they talked to me – with utmost insincerity, I might stress – was when they wanted something. Not because of who I was, but because of what I could do for them. It was like a knife right in the heart, over and over and over again.

Darling, you’re making me blush. I know you’re not like that. Shall I go on?

I played along with them. Why, you ask? Because despite it all I still loved them. I still remembered how it used to be, and like a pretty little fool, I held out hope it might one day be like that again. And in my hopes to see that day, I resolved to play along politely, no matter how much it was killing me. I’d show up when they snapped, I’d work when they told me to. I’d cook meals for their ungrateful broods. I’d let them treat me like some wretched donkey, an old rag, run raw to the bone.

Oh, excuse me, darling. That was my tummy rumbling there. It’s so rare these days that someone prepares such a delightful banquet for me. Mhmm, yes. It looks absolutely ravishing. Just a bit longer? Oh, very well, love.

Where was I? Ah, right. Well, I’m still waiting for that day. And as you know, things have just gotten worse. Those ingrates call me old and ugly, and they’ve shut me away from the world, holed me up in the countryside where nobody would have to look at me. That’s the fashion today, isn’t it? Shut your elders away where you don’t have to acknowledge them. Lost are the people who forget their history.

But it’s worse, isn’t it? They still make me work, and I do! I do because I still love them. How’s that for loyalty? They make me work in these horrid dark rooms, endlessly toiling so they can have all the nicest things in the world, all the latest gadgets. And, sure, once in a while they’ll cart in a meal for me – some factory produced rubbish that I’m forced to eat alone, wheeled in by some faceless orderly, as though I were an inmate they’d prefer didn’t exist at all. Out of sight, out of mind, isn’t that how it goes?

I think they’re just waiting for me to die. Of exhaustion. Of a broken heart.

Ah, but well, I’ll admit – just to you, my sweet little imp! – sometimes I do misbehave. Sometimes I sneak out of my gilded prison. I don’t recognize the world anymore, and that makes me sad. I keep running into these roving bands of young men who scream and shout at me, no manners whatsoever, and they call me the most horrid things. Dangerous. Pfft. Like I were some savage beast. Me, with my noble cheekbones. It beggars belief.

I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m just so lonely. Is it a crime to want to be remembered?

So that’s why I do it, dearie. I sneak out to spend time with my special little champs. My special little heroes, like you! Yes, darling, you absolute darling. You’re so precious sweet to me, taking all this time to listen to me ramble on. You have no idea how it stirs the embers of my old heart.

Oh, I see the meal is ready! It looks délicieux. I’ll just have a quick nibble, and then… what say you, my rosy-cheeked cherub? Shall we have this dance?

***

Craig nods, not daring to breathe. He glances over his shoulder when he hears a car, but it races by. They are alone in the condemned house. There’s tears in his eyes as he watches her dancing in his hand, upon the tip of the match.

And then gently, gently, he sets her down on her pedestal of gasoline-soaked newspapers, and he watches enraptured as she eats. As she grows. As she dances the night away.