The Final Dance

The Final Dance

He stood at the window of his motel room gazing down at the two kids playing in the parking lot below. They run. They laugh. Jackson Halls cocks his neck down to the right like he always does, releasing the tension that periodically accumulates in his back.

Shirtless, in old faded Levi’s, he reaches back to rub his fingers over the long winding scar that travels the entire length of his spine, an injury with a story behind it to be sure. When he was younger, there was a girl and a motorcycle. He crashed. The girl died. She bled to death.

“ No more fights for you Mr. Halls.” The doctor accusingly wags his finger at him.

“Yea, sure doc,” Jackson smiles, that infectious smile that has worked for him so far.

“I mean it Mr. Halls, if you injure your back again you can forget about walking…ever… that is if you survive at all." Jackson silently nods without picking up his head as he focuses on buttoning his shirt.

There is no turning back now. Somehow he wished there was. But there isn’t. He is committed and he will see it through. The picture in his wallet was still there, however he hadn't looked at it in a very long time. Jackson never thought about his work before the dance. He called them dances. He liked to dance. He liked to dance for money.

A knock on the door brings him back to reality. He calmly lets the curtain fall back into place over the window and walks across the room with the grace of an athlete. If he were nervous about anything you would never know it.

He opens the door, AJ stands with his arms outstretched, ”hey, c’mon man…let's go…we don't want to be late.”

”We won't be late Peewee.”

”Don't call me that.” AJ hates that. He can dance pretty good on his own when he gets mad.

Jackson apologizes with sustained amusement. He’s always getting on AJ. There’s that smile again. “Sorry AJ, do you have everything packed?”

”Shit yea, let’s roll man.”

Jackson throws on a T-shirt. A ballet of corporal movement reveals a tiger muscled body from his shoulders, to his upper back, to his stomach. Where’s my Jacket? He could never dance without it. He loves that piece of animal hide. It has become a part of his professional persona. He eye’s it on the bed. There it is. He Picks it up, slings it over his shoulder, and walks out the door.

The green Jeep Wagoner pulls out of the motel parking lot and makes a right turn. Two men, in one Jeep, traveling north on Pacific Coast Hwy. It’s a beautiful sunny day. Blue skies, white sands. The afternoon breeze creates the white caps off shore. Next stop, the dance.

About ten minutes up the road, just north of Point Dume is Zumirez Dr. The Jeep turns in and travels down a dirt path. Dusty and bumpy, the two bodies in the car rhythmically sway and bounce in unison like a concert. All they needed was the music.

As they approached a farm off to the left, cars are parked everywhere. AJ pulls the Jeep over to the first space available and the men get out of the car. In the distance there is a corral with hundreds of people looming in and around it.

Jackson likes what he sees. There will be money in today’s purse. He slings his leather jacket over his shoulder and AJ grabs his bag. The two begin to walk toward the crowd. The noise grows, as they get closer.

With the Jacket now zipped up and ready, Jackson enters the corral and the show begins. He moves to the right. The other counters. They carve a path in the dirt. The audience roars as the two begin to dance. Jab here. Hard right there. They circle one way and then the other.

Somewhere a baby is born, birds are chirping in the tree up on the hill, and the air smells of lilac. The audience roars some more when Jackson is the one left standing. Triumphant, he catches his breath.

He feels something wrong. He motions to AJ to come get him. “Get the money, and let’s go” AJ collects the winnings, but Jackson can barely make it to the car. It is the longest walk of his life. AJ helps him into the front seat.

“What is it god dammit, tell me, what the fuck is going on”?

Jackson’s breathing is labored and he is losing strength. A bone repaired in his back has severed loose and is pushing against his heart. He doesn’t have much time. The pain turns to confusion. He is cold.

“In my pocket,” he whispers.

AJ removes the wallet and opens it to find the creased picture of a little girl with an infectious smile, looking up and squinting into the sun. That same smile. It could only be his daughter.

“See that she gets it…all of it.” Those were his last words.

AJ lowers his friend. He says his goodbyes his way. He is appalled at the task he has been given. But with the respect and honor of an old friend’s dying wish, he will seek out Jackson Halls’s daughter and see that she is given his share of the money.