I'm not sure the exact volume of this room, especially as half of it is open to the night sky, I only know this was not enough space to contain the fear that exists between two human beings. Good thing, too, for if the fear could have been contained, the whole place might have exploded like a powder keg.
Fear. Oh I felt it. Just as soon as I walked down the sidewalk and saw this same view from outside. I was shaking. I had purposely arrived late, hoping the fans would be drunk and dancing already. Alas, the opening act was still playing and no one was yet dancing. A few were drunk, though only enough to make rude comments in what they mistook for whispers. They didn't stick around to dance with me, however.
Twice I walked the two blocks back to my car, past his car, hands shaking, breathing in giant gulps, determined to leave. Maybe go park somewhere, stare at the stars, listen to my favorite Janitor Bob CD, dance in my fancy dancing shoes and Karen's adorable clothes, by myself. No one but me would ever have to know. Instead I turned toward the voice screaming in my head, the one sure I'm about to make a fool of myself, an unforgivable fool at that. I took a long time to decide that my own death in the face of courage, while dancing to Janitor Bob, was not a horrible "worst case scenario" in my world. [Considering no one had died from fear of being in a bar alone in living memory did help a tiny bit.]
 |
Shaking & Smiling,
I'm all chicked out and totally cute! |
Still I waited for the band to start, pacing in front of the bar, frantically texting with Christine, before I braved a walk across the not full enough for anonymity bar. I found an empty spot along the wall where I could watch the band and dance, with my back to the entire crowd. I wanted to vomit 78.37% of the time, scientifically. I kept my hands from shaking by breathing slowly and deeply and moving them through the air. When my courage waned & my self-consciousness grew, I withdrew to a seat, recharged by sending updates to Christine.
Ultimately, I got back up to dance. Afterall, I came there to dance, because one.more. opportunity to dance to Janitor Bob, live, in person, was just what the universe decided I needed and thus provided. Anything else was extra frosting on the world's most delicious cake.
In one of those off-my-feet moments, as I enjoyed the dance of others swirling around me, there came a familiar face onto the dance crowd. Not the face I was necessarily expecting (hoping for); a familiar friendly face filled with happy recognition, nonetheless. Eye contact was followed by a direct pointing to one another and the synchronous mouthing of "YOU!" Then he was gone. Just like that. A mission of recognition, not of communication.
The moment had arrived. The one where we meet, face-to-face, as grown-ups, for the first time in four years. I meet the brown-eyed consistent female companion, I'm nice to her and we're all genuinely happy for one another. He'd see that I'm happy and healthy and oh-so-grateful for his existence. Past-induced fears melt in the face of our maturity and forgiveness. We hug and promise to keep in touch. When I walk away, there's a general sense of what a nice lady in the air.
 |
| My Dancing Shoes did their job! |
Alas, c'est non. Not like that, not this night. This night he ducked; literally, behind his girl as I walked by and discovered his table. This night I respected his right to duck. Fear wins. His fears. His completely understandable fears. Again.
Me, though, I'm a winner. I championed fears beyond my own imagining. I showed up. I smiled. I shined.
And I danced to Janitor Bob. Alone. And I didn't die. Not even when my fears did.
