Kathy's life was organized. She took good care of her husband, Bob, and their baby son, Butch. She did the laundry on Monday, shopped on Tuesday, cleaned house on Wednesday, visited her friends on Thursday, and cooked for the weekend on Friday. On Saturday morning, she spiffed up the house again. On Saturday night, she and her husband went to one of their friends' houses for a card party, or they played host in their own home.

More than once, she'd said to her husband, “Bob, I'm turning into a clone just like fifty million other women. Do you realize how long it's been since we went out on the town?”

Bob assured her that she was unique--that they could have a night out anytime she wanted. She believed him, but, for some reason, she never insisted on that night of dancing. Something was missing--something exciting and wonderful, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. In her mind, she likened her phantom desire to a food craving. One that never quite revealed whether the body wanted steak or a hot fudge sundae.

Yes, Kathy’s life was very organized—and very dull.

This Saturday, the card party was at Kathy and Bob's house. Earlier in the day, her mother had picked up the baby for his weekly overnight visit with granny and gramps. Kathy was fixing food and drinks in the kitchen while the usual crowd played a game of hearts in the great room.

Glad for a few moments alone, Kathy wiped her hands on a dishtowel and reached up to massage her temples with her fingertips. Lately, the sheer boredom of playing hostess gave her a splitting headache.

The doorbell chimed over the din of conversation and laughter. Kathy lowered her hands and glanced through the open kitchen door. From where she stood, she couldn’t see the foyer.

“Hmm, now who could that be?” She wondered aloud. “The gang's all here.”

She heard the rumbling of a deep voice and her husband's reply. Then, she heard him making introductions. Curious about the newcomer, Kathy picked up a tray of hors d’ oeuvres and headed for the kitchen door.

She walked into excitement. It seemed Bob had done an “open sesame,” and into her home had stepped the handsomest, hunky guy she'd ever seen. Glancing around the room, she realized she wasn't the only one impressed by this fine-looking man. Every female eye was agog. The males were likewise, but Kathy sensed an undercurrent of burning jealousy.

“Hello,” the stranger greeted the room at large. He had an unfamiliar accent, but Kathy doubted any of the women were paying attention to anything except his good looks. “I hope you'll pardon me for barging into your card party. I met your host at a trade fair, and he invited me over.” He smiled and nodded in her husband's direction.

Mercy! He could melt an ice floe with that smile. Kathy's headache disappeared like smoke.

He gazed over the ladies with an appreciative eye until he spotted Kathy standing at the back of the crowd, still holding her tray. He made a beeline for her. She was so embarassed to be singled out for his attention that she wanted to run back into the kitchen and slam the door.

“Mrs. Bishop, I presume,” he said. “You husband asked me to teach you lovely ladies some of the latest dances.”

“Dance?” Every male in the room said in unison, except for Kathy’s husband.

“Wonderful! Great!” The women exclaimed and giggled, tuning out their husbands. Kathy stood in numb silence.

Dance? She hadn't danced in over seven years--definitely not since her pregnancy and the birth of her son. The last time she had danced had been at her wedding, and before that, at the high school prom.

Within a matter of minutes, CD's spun; husbands removed themselves and the card tables to the basement. Shoes were kicked off, and the session was underway.

Kathy's surprise guest pulled her to the middle of the room. “You must be my first partner,” he declared in his deep, sexy voice. “Do you know the Salsa?”

She shook her head.

He laughed and put his hands on her waist. “Well, you will before the night is through.”

His name was Maxmillian--he insisted they call him Max--and he was from Venezuela. He then proceeded to live up to his Latin name and heritage. He was a dancing whiz. He twirled, spun, dipped, and generally charmed every woman in the room. At eleven o'clock, he assured each of the ladies in his infectious accent that she was now a pro. He had to do so quickly because husbands kept popping up from the basement and seizing their spouses by the arm.

Then… bang… the front door… the car door… the engine would roar. Kathy cringed as she imagined the arguments--all the way home.

At last, Kathy’s guests were gone. The only husband who hadn't surfaced from the basement was Bob. She was virtually alone with her handsome guest.

She cleared her throat and eased down on the sofa. “Well…” she said, “That’s that.”

“Yes,” Max answered. He looked like there was something more he wanted to say, but he merely flashed his brilliant smile and sat down on the sofa beside her.

Kathy cast an anxious glance at the basement door. Where was Bob? It was one thing to be in this man’s arms off and on all evening while surrounded by friends. Now, they were alone, and she was at a loss for words. Every nerve in her body screamed for rescue.

Even if she and her impromptu dance instructor had anything besides dancing to talk about, her tongue felt glued to the back of her teeth. A long, awkward silence stretched between them until Kathy hit upon an idea.

“Drink?”

“Yes, thank you. Some wine if there's any left.”

Then he winked at her. “You know, you’re really cute.”

“I am?”

What an odd thing for him to say. Was he flirting with her? The thought left her suddenly weak and breathless. Of course, there wasn't any harm in a little flirting, she guessed. Max had been a flawless gentleman all evening. She reminded herself that Bob was nearby--although heaven only knew what was keeping him in the basement.

“I’ll get both of us a glass of wine.” Kathy popped up from the sofa and headed for the kitchen and the wine bottle.

Max followed right on her heels.

For the next twenty minutes, Max leaned against her kitchen counter top and sipped his glass of wine.

Kathy tried to be as gracious as possible, but her eyes kept straying to the closed basement door. Where was her missing husband—and when, oh when, was Max going to leave? She didn’t want to be rude and tell him to shut up and go home.

Finally, Max drained his glass and set it on the counter top. “Don’t you think you should check on your husband?” He asked with a big smile.

“Huh?” Kathy stared at him as if he’d just landed from outer space. One minute she couldn’t get rid of him, and the next, he was suggesting she go find her husband.

“He’s been down there a long time,” he reminded her.

“Yes,” she said. “You’re right. It’s time I looked to see what kind of mess he and his pals left for me to clean up. Thank you for the dance lessons.”

Max walked to where she stood and took her hand in his. He leaned from the waist and planted a courtly kiss on her knuckles. “It was my pleasure, but don’t let those lessons go to waste.”

Kathy gave a short laugh. “Right. I’ll have to talk my sweet couch potato into going out once in a while, won’t I?”

He laughed with her. “Most certainly, my charming Kathy.”

Max turned on his heel, walked to the door and opened it. As he crossed the threshold, he turned and blew her a smiling kiss over his fingertips. Then, he was gone.

Kathy slumped against the counter. It was already half past eleven, and she hadn't spent any time with her husband. All that dancing and not one step of it with the person she cared about more than anyone else in the world. She sighed and reached for the wine bottle. The least she could do was take a glass to her husband.

She had just removed the cork when the basement door opened, and Bob stuck his head out.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted her. “Want to see what the guys and I did to the basement?”

Kathy set the bottle back on the counter without pouring another glass. She crossed her arms and pinned him with an accusing gleam in her eye. “You tell me,” she said. “Do I really want to see the mess you guys made?”

Bob’s smile turned into a sheepish grin. “Yeah, I guess you’d better have a look.”

She uncrossed her arms and stalked to the door. Bob stepped out of the way and let her pass. When she reached the landing, he turned out the light.

“What are you doing? Do you want me to trip and break my neck?”

“No danger of that.” His voice came from close behind her, and she felt his hand on her elbow. “I won’t let you fall. Just stand here a minute and let your eyes adjust to the darkness.”

“What are you up to?” He had closed the door behind them, and for a few seconds, the landing was truly dark. Then, bit by bit, she saw some light.

Kathy took a cautious step down. A fat white candle burned on the flat newel post at the foot of the steps. She descended another step, and then another. Beyond the partition shielding her from the rest of the finished basement, there was more light. From where she stood, she couldn't determine the source.

“Bob,” she said in a breathless voice. “What is all this?”

As she reached the bottom step, he closed the distance between them and put his arm around her waist. He chuckled.

“You just wait and see, my lady. Now, stand perfectly still and close your eyes, and don’t open them until I tell you to. Okay?”

Kathy giggled. She covered her eyes with her fingers and waited. His hands left her waist, and he moved away. She heard his footsteps as he walked across the basement tiles. Suddenly, music drifted through the room. How wonderful it sounded—just like…. But, no, it couldn’t be one of the same tunes the band had played at the high school prom.

“You can look now,” he said as he circled her waist and pulled her further into the room.

Kathy let him take her where he wanted, and she finally got to see what he’d been doing all evening. Candles lit every surface from the high ledges of the basement windows to a low table set for two. A white lace tablecloth cascaded over the surface. In the center was a mixed bouquet of flowers. A clear plastic box containing an orchid rested in one of the plates. Overhead, balloons bobbed against the ceiling. Every support they'd covered when they finished the basement was draped with blue and white crepe paper bunting.

Bob hugged her close and nuzzled her neck. “Like it?”

They drifted to the center of the room and stopped. “Like it? Oh, Bob, it’s like….”

He held her at arm’s length. “Like what? Does it remind you of anything?”

Tears sprang to her eyes. The candles, balloons, and bunting were exactly like the decorations at her high school prom. How had he known it wasn't the night out on the town she had wanted? Until this very moment, even she hadn't realized what she craved.

Her prom night had been the most magical night of her life. Bob had been her escort. He had given her an orchid corsage. They danced every dance. When the dancing was done, he had proposed and given her a diamond ring. A single tear slid down her cheek. He caught it with his thumb and pulled her against his chest.

“My high school prom,” she answered.

Bob nodded, rubbing his cheek against her hair. “That was the most wonderful night of my life--because you said you’d be my wife. I’ve been thinking about doing this for a long time, you know.”

“You have?” Kathy couldn’t hide the surprise she felt.

He nodded, suddenly very solemn and serious. “Will you do me the honor of being my wife until death do us part? And will you dance with me?”

Kathy leaned slightly away and nodded. Words simply would not pass the lump in her throat.

“Thank you, my darling,” he murmured. He pulled her back into his arms, or maybe she pulled him into her arms. He kissed her, and she kissed him. The music played… and they danced.

From then on, Kathy’s days didn't seem routine or dull. Every day was new and brought new happiness. Maybe her daily life was much the same as it had been before Bob's huge surprise. She just saw things in a different way.

A week or so after her “prom dance,” Kathy was cleaning the office. As she moved things on the desk and swished her dust cloth, Bob’s handwriting on a piece of paper caught her eye. She slid the page to the center of the desk and sat down in the chair. It was the beginning of a letter:

“Max,

Thanks for your help. I wanted to do the prom thing for a long time—just to show Kathy how special she is to me. She has been a different woman since that night. Your keeping her occupied with dancing while I decorated the basement was a stroke of genius. I couldn’t have done it alone. We both have a lot to thank you for.”

Kathy stopped reading.

“I am different,” she said aloud as she smiled and slid the paper back to its resting place. “I’m different from fifty million other women--all because of my wonderful husband and those three little words.”

“Dance with me.”

 

{Dance with Me (c) Juanita Shoemaker, 2004}