Ballroom: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

Safely across the street in Union Square Park, he stops for a few minutes in the chilly night air to catch his breath before heading home to Twelfth Street. He watches, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

Chapter 11
Joseph
    It is the gentleman’s part to lead the lady, and hers to allow herself to follow his directions.
                     —W. P. Hazard, The Ball-Room Companion , 1849
    T hough the Ballroom is crowded, Joseph manages to dance two fox-trots and a rumba with Sarah, and he enjoys how relaxed she is in his arms. Every dance is special with Sarah—except a mambo.
    “You’re losing the beat,” he reminds her.
    “It’s only a dance, Joseph.”
    One of these nights, he’ll ask her to dance at Roseland on a Saturday night. Since the next song is a mambo, he invites her to sit at an empty table in the shadows.
    “This is it,” she says.
    “Pardon?”
    “I’ve taken the plunge. Enrolled in classes in adult care. My final career. No more job-to-job. I read that it’s a growing industry because of the baby boomers, and offers job security. I’ll be doing something that matters.”
    “Sounds quite positive.”
    “Exactly.” She sighs and then, with a laugh, adds, “And . . . just when I had hopes of becoming a movie star!”
    Such foolishness, he thinks; talking about movies and movie stars, always telling him he looks like Adolphe Menjou. He isn’t the least bit interested in the movies.
    “Whatever you do, I’m certain you’ll do it well.”
    “What a gentleman! Most of the men here are rude. They don’t even say thank you for the dance. They just walk off.”
    “Some people have no manners.” It is these manners and customs of the Ballroom that he comes for. These are things he has never discussed with anyone before. How a woman feels. How Sarah feels.
    “I appreciate that you walk me back to where we begin our dance . . . the way you bow. It’s so . . . elegant.”
    He takes pride that she notices the qualities he considers important. His mind drifts as he considers what it would be like to come home from work, to sit across the dinner table from her and discuss his day. Would she respect the decisions he made at work?
    “. . . and some men are so critical. ‘Do this, don’t do that,’” she continues, emphatically. “So controlling, when it’s supposed to be fun.”
    “Yes.” He tries to sound casual. “It is supposed to be fun.”
    “You don’t do that.”
    “My parents brought me up to have respect. Those persons you mention have not been brought up properly.”
    “It’s because you’re European,” Sarah says.
    “I’m American.” He bristles. “Why, I’ve lived in New York since I was ten.”
    “I mean, you’re a gentleman, in the old-fashioned European sense.”
    Sarah clearly understands his values, recognizes and appreciates the person he is. Is there a chance that she could care for him more deeply? One can wait a lifetime, for that one special person who can see you as no one has before; who understands the things that are important to you.
    “You’re good company, Sarah.” Looking out across the dance floor, he pats her hand. Is this the right moment?
    “Just good company?” she asks. “Is that all?”
    “No. You’re an—interesting and intelligent woman.” He likes her mouth with its hint of pale lipstick. She looks clean. “Of course, I enjoy dancing with you,” he quickly adds.
    Jimmy J plays “Where or When.” A good fox-trot. He’s eager to dance.
    The time has come; it is now or never. “Would you like to dance at Roseland next Saturday?” He waits for her refusal. “We could meet at seven.”
    “That would be lovely.” She moves her chair closer to his, and he notices the glisten of moisture on her plump lower lip.
    Leaning back, Sarah raises her arms, runs her fingers through her frizzy hair: like pubic hair, he thinks. What would it be like to smooth its copper wildness? Touch her pale skin? He has never