(051)
“I’m nervous.” Samuel says, flexing his arm to see his watch beneath his shirt cuff and jacket sleeve.
“Why?” Asks Margaux, “It’s just going to be the same as class.”
“I know, it’s ridiculous– I just feel it in my belly.” He says, putting his watch away without registering the time.
“But then what are you nervous about?” Margaux’s voice is laced with humour.
“I don’t know!” He laughs, exasperated. “Like, what if there’s someone I fancy, and I have to actually do something about it.”
“Well, that’s half of the point of this, no?” She turns to look at him.
He doesn’t catch her eye, looking up and around as he talks.
“Yeah in the abstract sense, but actually having to act on it is something else.”
“You’re overthinking it again.” She pushes his arm.
“I know I am, that’s all I do– but I don’t know how to not do that, so–”
They round the final bend, nearing their destination.
“Hold on, let me just put my shoes on.” Margaux says, making her way towards a bench at the side.
Samuel hovers in front of her with his hands in his pockets as she replaces her flats with heels, fastening them with straps underneath her ankle. He ducks to try and see beneath the remaining tree line, but can only make out the edge of it. Wooden slats interlock with one another on a slightly raised platform.
“Alright,” Margaux says, standing with the aid of Samuel’s arm, “let’s go.”
They walk with arms linked down the neatly paved path, slowly revealing the pop-up stage and everything around it. A simple bar had been erected at the side, serving cans of beer or white wine in plastic glasses from a cold box. Speakers are positioned facing inwards from each corner, the cables from which lead back to a modern looking record player, and an ageing DJ rifling through records in a box perched beside it. Samuel scans the crowd and finds some familiar faces amongst it, though mostly unknowns, each as sharply dressed as each other. Suits of every colour and dresses of every cut, all mingling in little groups across the platform. Something ticks onto his radar, though he pretends to himself that it hasn’t.
“Should we get a drink?” Margaux asks.
“Definitely.” Samuel says, conscious of the sweat that had begun to trickle down one side.
They make their way over the even patch of grass towards the bar, stationed beneath the only tree in the field – if it could be called a tree. A sapling grows from the middle of a stump, as if planted in an ornate pot, its leaves a vibrant green and its stem bending in the breeze. Samuel studies it as they walk, resisting the urge to flick his eyes back to the group in the hope that he’d forget that he wanted to.
“What do you want?” He asks.
“What are you having?” She responds.
“I don’t know, probably water.” He says, beginning to turn and catching himself.
“Hmm…” Margaux peers round the couple in front to see what’s on offer.
Samuel is eyeing the few clouds in the sky above them, rocking on his heels with his hands in his pockets when he feels a presence approaching him from behind. His head swivels to see over his shoulder and out of the corner of his eye he recognises a couple from his class, so he turns more fully to greet them.
“Hey.” He smiles politely, still not aware what their names were despite a year spent together.
“Hey!” They both smile back.
Margaux turns and smiles at them both before returning to her decision making.
“You both look great.” Samuel says, taking a hand from his pocket to gesture at their outfits.
“Aww, thank you, so do you both!” The woman beams.
The people in front of them are apparently also struggling to make a decision, as the queue stalls. An awkwardness begins to take hold and Samuel is unsure whether to turn and face the front, or to maintain the conversation, so he remains side on to both.
“The weather is great for it.” The woman says, drawing Samuel’s attention again.
“Yeah!” He nods, “couldn’t ask for much better really.”
Another pregnant pause.
“I just hope I can remember what we learned.” Samuel laughs, looking between them both and then past them into the crowd without thinking, his eyes seeking her out – and finding her.
“Ohhh, I’m sure you won’t have a problem with that!” The woman laughs along, which Samuel hears from far away.
She’s laughing too, one arm crossing her stomach and a wine glass balanced in the other hand. A red dress with a slit on one side, and her auburn hair tied up in a messy bun. It felt cliché’d. Hell, it was clichéd, but that didn’t seem to matter. She looks in his direction and time slows to let the image burn into his mind, green eyes glinting in the evening sun.
Samuel looks away and back to his conversation, picking up his laugh again.
“Oh, I don’t know…we’ll see, I guess.” He carries his laugh until, thankfully, the queue moves up for him to order.
“A white wine for me.” Margaux says with some relief, as if she’d finally figured out the answer to a riddle.
Samuel looks back in her direction, but she’s blocked by a man standing next to her, presumably her partner.
Stupid.
Samuel thinks to himself.
“Sam?” Margaux taps him with the back of her hand. “Still or sparkling?”
“Oh, uh, still please.” He smiles at the person behind the table, who reaches into a coolbox and passes him a plastic bottle with a blue lid.
They take their drinks, nodding to their classmates again as they step past them and up onto the platform, adding to the quiet cacophony of knocking with the heels of their shoes.
“This is so nice!” Margaux says, taking in the scene around them, smiling at the nameless recognisable faces.
“Yeah it is.” Samuel answers, though without much gusto, positioning himself with his back to the girl and Margaux in front of him.
“Don’t sound too enthused.” Margaux scoffs.
“No, no it is, it’s just–” he checks over his shoulder to see if she’s still there, then looks back at Margaux, “you see that girl? The one in red behind me?”
Margaux peers over his shoulder.
“Oh wow, yeah, she’s beautiful.” She says, still looking.
“Right??” Samuel exclaims.
“Yeah, absolutely– do you want to go over?” Margaux asks.
“God no, have you seen the guy she’s with?” He asks, fiddling with his bottle trying to open it.
Margaux tilts more to the right to get a better look.
“Damn, he’s hot too.” She says, taking a sip of her wine without looking away.
“Exactly.” Samuel says, half triumphant, half disappointed.
“But who knows, maybe they’re not together?” Margaux finally looks back at him.
He catches her eye, not needing words to express his doubt.
“What? You don’t know! People probably assume we’re together–” She starts.
“Come onnnnn, what are the chances? Two beautiful people together who aren’t actually together.” He cuts her off.
She points at herself and then at him with a look of confusion playing across her face.
He laughs.
“Okay, fair point– but the odds of that happening twice–” he starts.
“Well, you won’t know unless you ask.” She cuts him off. “So, are we going over?”
The subtle crackle of compressed air grows from each corner of the stage as the volume rises in the speakers, soon replaced by an orchestral swell and the crisp voice of a Spanish singer. The groups split up into pairs and spread out across the dance floor.
“Oops, saved by the bell.” Samuel shrugs, taking Margaux’s drink and placing it on a side table along with his own.
Margaux laughs and holds her left arm up straight, waiting until Samuel brings her opposite hand up to shoulder height before wrapping it around his back.
The lyrics wash across the floor like honey, and each couple begins to move to their rhythm.
“Cada noche espero, sentado en soledad,”
Samuel’s mind is blank as he leads Margaux, unsure of what his actions will be, simply letting his legs lead them both.
“Observando su danzar, en la pista de cristal,”
They move as one, weaving past faltering couples and re-joining the outer lane before turning smoothly into the corner.
“Susurro en mis versos todo lo que quiero contar,”
No words are exchanged, but for that brief period everything is understood.
“Pero el valor me falta para entregárselos en verdad.”
The song finishes with a flourish and everyone claps, looking around at each other and sharing the applause. A man in a light blue suit appears through the crowd and offers his hand to Margaux, just as a new song is beginning. She looks at Samuel with shock and excitement, then takes the man’s hand and disappears to the other side. Samuel watches with a smile, then realises he’s in the way and steps down onto the grass.
The couples, both newly acquainted and long familiar, create a mesh of moving parts, side-stepping and criss-crossing around one another. Samuel walks along the edge to collect his drink, watching the way Margaux moves with her new man, but not seeing red. He tips what’s left of his water into his mouth and starts wandering towards the bar.
“Another water, please.” He smiles, holding up the bottle.
The person takes it from him and passes him a new one, which he cracks and turns to watch the show with–
But there she is, walking down the path towards him. He looks at her, then away just as she catches his eye and smiles. He smiles at the ground.
Too late.
His thumb and forefinger twiddle the lid of the bottle as she occupies the space beside him.
“A white wine, please.” She asks.
Of course her voice is nice.
“Thank you.” She takes the glass and props herself up on the other end of the bar to Samuel.
He catches sight of her partner, confidently leading an obviously swooning woman this way and that.
Of course he is.
He glances to his side as she takes a sip, then back forward to take a sip of his own.
The urge to ask her to dance is equal parts excruciating and terrifying, as if the very concept of the words forming in his throat begin to choke him. He tries to count himself down to take the leap, but each time he reaches 0, nothing happens.
The song concludes, the applause begins, and she takes the moment to walk away. Samuel watches as she does, willing himself to–
“Uh–” the noise squeezes between his lips and she turns back to look at him, confused. “Wo-ould you want to dance?” He asks, as shocked at the question as she seems to be.
She considers him before responding.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to ask.” She says.
“Wha–? Really? Oh, sorry–” the words stumble over each other.
“No,” she laughs, “I mean you’re supposed to just offer your hand, and I decide whether to take it.”
Her words hang in the air between them, and he’s unsure whether to do what she’d suggest–
“So?” She asks.
“Oh–” Samuel steps forward, offering his hand.
She looks at it for what feels like an unending amount of time before she takes it. He smiles and leads her towards the dance floor, trying to ignore Margaux’s beaming grin from the sidelines.
“Sorry if my hands are sweaty,” the woman in red says with a grimace, “honestly, I was really nervous about coming tonight.”
“Really!?” Samuel turns to look at her, “I would never have guessed, you seem so confident.”
She laughs.
“Fake it till you make it, right?”
They step up onto the dance floor and Samuel takes the lead, once again grateful that his legs know what to do.
“I need to get better at faking it, I think.” Samuel says, smiling as he turns her in the corner.
“Oh, I don’t know– you’ve got me convinced.” She responds.
He feels the heat rising in his collar and almost walks her into the back of a couple in front, saving it just in time without her realising.
“So, uh– how long have you and your…husband? Partner?–” He starts.
“Oh, no, no we’re just friends– we work together.” She says. “And about a year, a year and a half now…and you and your…wife?”
Samuel laughs, struggling to take the smile off his face after.
“Nope, exactly the same: friends/colleagues. She suggested it a year ago and after some deliberation I thought…why not?”
“Yeah, exactly,” she smiles, “porque no?”
The song is once more replaced by applause, most of which Samuel aims at the girl in red.
“What’s your name, by the way?” He asks as it dies down.
“Maria.” She says. “And you?”
“Samuel.” He says, offering his hand to shake, which she does.
A new song begins and he opens his mouth to ask, then offers his other hand instead.
This time, she doesn’t pause before she takes it.
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