Not An Ideal Dance Partner

The gymnasium where the event was held reeked of moldy bread and vomit. The sound of shoes squeaking against the wooden floor echoed around the large building. The event was a marathon dance. The kind that could last for days, weeks, and sometimes the more spectacular events lasted for months. It was the kind of entertainment that was often held after a windstorm. You see, when people are happy, they don’t need to see misery, but when life is miserable, when there is a depression on, it’s nice to see people who are more miserable than yourself.

People from all over the nation signed up in hopes to win a meager sum that would keep starvation at bay for a month, but no one signed up for more events than Maeve. As far as she was concerned, the wind must have carried a lot more than just that dirt. It carried with it all the bad luck and ruined dreams that had settled on the country. Heartbreak and bitterness is what it had brought to the west.

Franklin was not an ideal kind of dance partner. Maeve could see this from the moment she laid eyes on him. He stood a full foot shorter than Maeve, and she could have snapped his wrists and ankles like a toothpick. The frail man, several years Maeve’s senior, seemed to have energy stored only in one place-- his eyes.

A bell rang throughout the gym as a judge declared, “Now begins day twenty-two!” The end was in sight for Maeve; the prize money was so close she could almost smell the moldy rolls of bills in the judges' (all men) pockets nearby.

Franklin, however, wasn't going to make it. He never complained. Not about the smell of the place, or the exhaustion. Not about the sludge they were fed, or the blisters on his feet and bottom. Because of his unyielding insistence on staying positive, Maeve didn’t know how sick the man was becoming.

Franklin’s tiny body finally gave out on the twenty-second day. As he slept on their meager (but required) break, he moved on to the next world without a word or a whimper. Maeve lifted the man’s body off of hers, and a neatly wrapped, brown box slightly smaller than a cigar box slipped out of his pocket.

It was illegal to hold anything in your pockets during a marathon dance, there were too many instances of people stuffing extra biscuits into their pants to give them a quick energy boost in the middle of an event. It was unlike Franklin to break a rule like this, and it was very unlike him to hide it from Maeve. She shook the box first. Something rattled inside. Something small. Maeve’s curiosity bore through her as she tore into the packaging. A shimmering, gold ring sat at the bottom of the box. An engagement ring. She looked at Franklin’s lifeless body resting on the floor next to her. She felt nothing.

If Maeve and Franklin were in love, it was the kind that happened too fast, with too much chaos going on all around, for anyone to notice--even the two of them. Sure, Maeve had felt emotions for Franklin; these emotions might have even felt like love at one point, but they were fleeting. She remembered one of his sweet whisperings, “These days are getting the better of us, My Sweet. When will you call it quits and run away with me?” That’s what he wanted. For her to give up this part of herself that had, yes, plagued her over the years, but also gave her independence, gave her the opportunity to take care of herself. A bell signaled the end of her break.

At this point in the competition, Maeve couldn’t get another partner, the competition was too close to the end. In addition to this, she knew the minds of the promoters all too well. If she walked out and reported Franklin’s death, they would probably shut the whole dance down, and use it as an excuse not to pay anybody the winnings.

So, as she lay there, the dead man next to her getting stiffer every second, Maeve knew what she had to do. She untied her left shoe, tied the laces around Franklin’s right ankle and stood up, pulling the dead man up beside her. She used her left hand to prop up his torso and head next to hers. They walked out into the gymnasium together.

The few audience members in attendance were not paying much attention to the two figures headed out onto the dance floor. Most had paid the fee to have a place to sleep for the night. If anyone noticed the massive woman with the now dead rag doll, they didn't say anything. The other dancing couple was equally as oblivious.

When she got to the center of the dance floor, Maeve flung Franklin around to face her. His head flopped back into a ghastly, inhuman position and his mouth fell open. She grabbed him and pulled his head closer into her chest. She spread her legs wide as she swayed back and forth to the waltz that was playing from the phonograph. Occasionally, she stole a glance back at the judges, but mostly, she stared ahead, conserving as much energy as she could.

She leaned down and whispered into her dead companion's ear. “We are there Frank, just hold on a little longer”. She was so tired, so utterly used up that she had forgotten about the state of her partner for a moment. “Please Frank...Frank, just a few more hours”.

The competition, Elise and Jack, were gliding within feet from where Maeve swung her pendulum corpse back and forth. Occasionally, their rotations would come within earshot of each other. Elise was a mouthy woman, and this being the last few hours of the competition, her biting comments were beginning to come more frequently.

Franklin was now deader than ever. His body was growing stiff with rigor mortis. His bowels had begun to release their contents. Maeve first noticed the smell, then she saw the thin trail of excrement that was coming out of his right pant leg. She glanced over at the competition judge. He sat on a folding chair not twenty five feet away nodding off and jerking his head back up periodically when he found himself dozing.

Maeve danced her way away from the judge so that he wouldn't see or smell the stream that was oozing out of Franklin's Jeans. This meant dancing near Elise and Jack. It was becoming difficult not to cross through the stream and track the filth all over the gymnasium floor. Maeve found that her huge boots were tracking it around, smearing it into the cracks in the hardwood.

By now it was mid afternoon, and the band had come to replace the phonograph as paying customers began to trickle in. The music began to pick up again. The band was fresh, all energy, and the promoters were itching to see a couple drop, so that everyone could go home.

Maeve began to pick up her pace, trotting around the arena twirling Frank’s body around her like a baton. Elise and Jack did the same. They took larger steps to cover more ground without moving too much. The music was swingy, but Elise and Jack were immersed in an energy saving waltz. They took two large steps, then two small, then two large again.

The fifteen or so people in the audience who were paying enough attention to realize that the competition was coming to an end, began to stand up in their seats. Some yelled out or whooped occasionally. Jack’s adrenaline had been boosted from the cheers and from the prospect of winning. The judge, sensing the energy in the room, and knowing the competition couldn’t last much longer, stood up from his chair, peering intently at the two remaining couples. He didn't approach them, but stood waiting for any signs of disqualification.

Jack took two large steps, leading Elise like the professional dancer he was. He took two small steps. He stepped back with his left leg for a particularly energetic large step. The shoe, whose sole had been worn smooth in the days prior, landed in a puddle of excrement, recently applied to the floor by the half dead menace to sterility.

Jack's shoe slipped, his leg flew out from under him, and both knees came crashing onto the court followed by his torso and head. It happened so fast, Elise herself was horizontal in less than a second.

The judge jogged over to the disqualifying bell where he gave it a firm, satisfying whack. The crowd let out a spattering of guffaws and applause, either for the winning couple, or from the entertainment of watching the losing couple slip in shit and fall all over themselves.

Maeve acted quickly. She flung Franklin to her side once again and hurried him into a small closet in the back of the gym where she untied her shoelaces from his ankle. She left his body in the closet, his kind face covered with a dusty mop head, to be dealt with later. She then conjured up the last of her energy, and hurried back into the gym to claim her prize.

Jack and Elise had, by now, figured out that the puddle that had caused Jack to slip was feces and urine, which was spread across the floor like margarine. This was apparent, but what was not, is where the shit came from. They looked at the floor, puzzled, but their minds were fast asleep, and they opted to sleep rather than solve the mystery.

Gill, the lead judge, wanted to go home as much as anybody. He paced back and forth smugly, yawning occasionally outside the school entrance. When Maeve approached him, he began to dig the bills out of his pocket, oblivious to the rush she was in.

“10, 20, 30, 40 bucks for you.” Gill said, lazily.

Maeve protested “The flyer said 80!”

“40 per dancer, M’am. Get Franklin over here so he can collect his half.” Gill intoned while fingering the other bills in his hand.

Maeve wanted to snatch the money out of his hand. Her emotions were on edge. Instead she turned, as if to walk away, and said, “Poor little fella goin’ to be sleeping for 15 hours. I’s sure wouldn’t want to make anyone wait”

“Sorry?” Gill called after her. “Where did you say he's sleeping? Can I put it in his pocket and be done with the matter?”

Maeve turned hot on her heels, held out her left hand so that her ring would catch the light perfectly, and without missing a beat replied, “He got us a room at the Inn, I’s sure you noticed, but he got down on one knee after we won and we gunna celebrate!”. Her eyes lingered on the ring for a few moments before she turned to go again.

Gill didn’t hesitate to stop her, like all those involved in the marathon, he was required to stay until his job was done. His job could be done now, or, according to Maeve, he could wait around a few more days to pay out the rest of the winnings.

“Wait!” he pleaded, “ Please wait!” Gill held out the remaining bills. “If I hear Franklin has been around looking for this, I will make sure you never make it into another competition as long as I’m in the business, you understand?”

“Sure” said Maeve casually. She reached out, as Gill slapped the bills in her palm.

She waited three more grueling hours after the event for everyone to empty out of the gym before she went back to the supply closet where she hid her former dance partner. She threw him over her shoulder and headed out the back door.