Dancers Not Partners

Cliff

‘I do.’ Those words are supposed to mean something.

A bond between man and wife.

A joining.

A union.

It’s meant to be unconditional: public vows and a kiss.

The kiss isn’t just some romantic flourish to end the ceremony; it’s a public display of love and commitment.

You watch the love of your life walk down the aisle, and in that moment, I was sure she was an angel sent from heaven to be mine.

And I took her, publicly vowing myself to her body and soul.

If she needed my right arm, I’d cut it off in an instant. I was sure she’d do the same for me.

Samantha...

I said, ‘I do,’ I vowed to be hers forever and look where that got me...

The f*cking courthouse.

It’s almost like a hospital or a morgue. Everyone in this waiting room is either silently cursing or panicking.

I’m Cliff Harrison, here to sever a scared bond between me and my wife... shouldn’t I call her my ex-wife now? Yikes

I’m sitting in the maroon, supposedly comfortable, waiting chairs for the judge to call me in for the negotiation to finalise all the details.

My divorce lawyer and best friend since forever, Greg, is sitting by me.

“You wanna leave the talking to me, “his voice a calm anchor amidst the chaos, as he flips through some papers. I wonder what all those papers are.

“We have a better chance of getting the penthouse, and she can keep the country home.” he continues, getting up to pour himself a cup of coffee. His casual demeanour is almost maddening.

I just nod, what else could I say? We had gone from sharing everything to bickering over property.

She can keep the damn penthouse for all I care, but Greg said that wasn’t fair, and at the time, I was hot and angry agreeing with him.

Things were bad for a while. I knew that our friends and family knew something was wrong, but the way she ended things... I’d be lying if I said I didn’t ask Greg to legally ruin her.

But that was just a day of rage and... hurt.

Samantha... how’d we get here?

Ramona

I’m usually smart and don’t get myself into trouble.

And any normal person would consider this a small offence. I mean, it’s a f*cking parking dispute.

I don’t care what my neighbour says. His parking is just the right angle for me to get out of the car with my arms full of groceries.

But suing me?

That is a new low.

I’m a well-educated woman of a fine background. I’m not some kid who makes mistakes with parking.

I’m in my forties!

I shouldn’t be sued for something like this?!

I guess I am doing a Ramona Lawton special.

Failing…

I walk into the courthouse and groan internally. It was packed, feeling like a subway. So many here to have a hearing with a judge and gavel.

It’s gonna be a long wait... I forgot when my ‘hearing’ or whatever is, but I’m sure there’s a secretary somewhere.

I look at the maroon waiting chairs; they look comfortable, but I’m an active person. I don’t like sitting around, I’ve always moved around.

But now, where to sit? I don’t want to sit next to people who look like they’re here for a real reason. I don’t surround myself with bad eggs. I’ve learned from my years of past mistakes. Don’t give yourself the extra headache of trying not to follow the people you’re around or detox after being with toxic friends. Keep alone if you can’t find anyone decent.

I saw a man a bit older than me, but we were both in our forties. He looked stable, nice and like he was here for an ordinary reason.

I sat next to him on the waiting chair, taking my chances. I learned over my years to take your chances but make sure your odds are good.

I smooth out my business like a pencil skirt. It’s not my usual wear, but I’m in court after all.

I’m used to wearing evening gowns, over-the-top dresses, or yoga pants, give or take.

I can’t help but notice the creases in his forehead and the slight shake of his knee in anxiety.

Over the years, I’ve learned how to pay attention and see when someone’s stressed. I can definitely say that this man is having a tough day.

Suddenly, the door opens, and some dissatisfied men walk out grumbling. The secretary looks in my direction… or the man beside me direction.

We both look at each other, but the secretary calls the man beside him. Apparently, some sibling disputes about their father’s will.

This will be a while…

The man next to me gives an exhausted sigh. I smile back.

“You’ve been waiting long, huh?” I place my handbag on my lap, trying to make small talk.

“Yeah,” he groans, rubbing his temples. “This place is depressing, isn’t it?”

I turned to face him, getting a good look at him. And gosh, was he a looker? Salt-and-pepper hair is nice, but he has the classic grey at the temples, which makes my eyes want to wonder more.

He was wearing a black shirt with a burgundy tie and black trousers that fitted his toned legs.

I’m sure he started the morning looking sharp and crisp, but now his tie was loosened, exposing his big Adam’s apple, which comes in with men in their forties and really gets my heart fluttering.

I also got a glimpse of his chest hair, and I knew that if I didn’t stop looking, I’d actually start drooling instead of just internally.

I clear my throat. “Yeah, but you know many good things and new beginnings happen here.”

He sighs heavily, and my curiosity is piqued.

“Or endings,” he says with regret.

“Not one of your finest moments, huh?” I subconsciously slide closer, drawn in by his melancholy.

“I’m going through a divorce case and. Yeah, it’s not easy.” he attempts a smile, but it ends up looking like a wince.

“Gosh,” I say, giving him an empathetic smile.

“What are you in for?” he asks with a grin, and I smirk back.

“Just a parking dispute. I used my neighbour’s parking so much, and he’d always complain. He threatened to sue me many times, and I’d just roll my eyes. Guess I should have taken him seriously.” I scoff, shaking my head.

He laughs, and I’m happy I could ease his tense day, even if it was for a few minutes in the waiting room.

I wanted to keep this going. “I mean, now I’m in this stuffy government office.” I giggle, and he laughs harder, patting his knee, and I just watch him. The lines that were creasing his brow were long gone and replaced by crowfeet at the corner of his eyes when he smiled.

“I haven’t laughed in months,” he sighs, and the sadness returns, but not as heavily as before.

“Why’s that?” I ask gently.

“Divorce is shit,” he says, his smile still tinged with sadness.

“We were doing so well. At least I thought so,” he vents, leaning back in his chair.

I lean in closer, genuinely interested. “How long were you married?”

“We were gonna celebrate our ninth anniversary in the fall,” he smirks. “But she had other plans.”

“Divorce can be tough, especially if kids are involved,” I shudder at the thought of kids being torn between parent fights.

“Thankfully, it’s not that messy. We never had kids,” he says, and I sigh with relief.

“Oh, so what are you doing here in court? It should be a done deal.”

“It is, but there is a property dispute.”

“Oh, I see.” I clear my throat. “So you’re gonna go in for a negotiation.”

I cross my legs, and his eyes follow my movements and stop at my anklet that dangles with crystals against my high heels.

“That’s a pretty thing. You don’t see many anklets around,” he says with a smile, his eyes tracing over my body.

I smiled it’s been a while since a man gave me the once over. I wasn’t bad-looking, but such things were reserved for the young, perky girls. So, I took a moment to bask in this moment.

“So, what do you do besides sitting in courthouses?” I smirk, enjoying how he got lost in my appearance.

“I used to dance, you know. Ballroom,” he says with a soft, solemn smile, but I see the spark of passion in his eyes.

“I was a professional dancer. Tried to be, at least. Now, I’m just trying to find that spark again.” I smile softly.

“I’d love to see you dance. I’m sure you’re very good,” he replies.

“Not good enough to win,” I look up at him and meet his eyes that look at me without pity; instead, his eyes are filled with intrigue.

“Maybe you just need the right partner,” he suggests in a low voice.

“I went through so many. I just don’t know.” I try to smile, but even he can see it’s just a mask.

I sigh and give up the front. For some reason, telling this stranger everything feels comfortable.

“I never won a single competition. I have no ribbons, no trophies, nothing to show for my career.” I confess.

“Damn, that’s tough,” he responds, looking at me, and in that moment, I nod.

I know

“It’s the strange thing about life. It feels like we should have things sorted by now.” he leans back, and I follow his lead.

“I mean, we’re in our forties. But I’m getting divorced, and your career. It’s like I’m twenty again, starting all over.”

He grunts, holding his head in his hands. “Except we have no f*cking time.”

I pull his hands down. As I touch his hands, I notice just how hairy his arms are, along his forearm, the hair fans out, making me wanna caress him, and it spreads all the way to the back of his hands.

So much man

I pull his hands down. “I think we all deserve new beginnings. New chapters. And unlike the youths, we know what we want. We’ve been through enough to know what matters in life.”

His eyes began to light up, and a smile almost graced his lips as hope was beginning to kindle…

Bam!

The door for the court opens, and he’s called up for his case. He stands quickly and disappears into the room without looking back.

Before the door shuts, I get a glimpse of a slim, beautiful blonde. She’s dressed in a white skirt suit and has this self-absorbed look about her.

Nothing personal, but I already don’t like her. No word of greeting to her husband, well, ex-husband, and hardly any eye contact. To top it off, she had the audacity to wear white while discussing the end of the marriage. Kind of brutal.

I spend a few minutes rolling my eyes and thinking of the man in the court waiting room who is now knee-deep in a negotiation.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts when I’m called in for my petty lawsuit.

Longest hour of my life. Good thing the judge had a head on his shoulders and didn’t blow things out of proportion.

I walk out of the courthouse, and the usual quiet streets are even quieter as the rain begins to pour.

I pull out my phone to call an Uber. I came by Uber since I don’t know where the courthouse is it seemed easier, but now I wish I had driven here.

I wait in the small roofed courtyard for my Uber, watching the rain.

I snap my head to my right when I hear a throat clearing beside me.

I smile as my eyes meet his, the courthouse waiting room guy.

Okay, I need to ask him his name.

“Hey, you. Seems like you have a knack for waiting,” he observes with a smirk.

“Yeah, for my Uber.” I shrug. “I didn’t catch your name. And calling you courthouse waiting room guy just doesn’t roll off the tongue.”

He smiles and turns to face me, and I do the same.

“Cliff,” he introduces himself in a deep voice.

“Ramona,” I smile.

Standing there in the dim light as it rains, we just look at each other. I think of my days when I used to compete days I danced with passion and rhythm. My mind paints a vivid scene that I find myself getting lost in. My heart longs to dance. I haven’t even talked about dance in years.

What would it be like to dance again...

“Mind if we…” I start, my voice trailing off.

“Dance?” he finishes with deep confidence.

I smile as he holds out his hand to me. I take it eagerly, and he pulls me closer.

“What shall we…?” he begins softly.

“Rumba. It always gets my heart racing.”

He spins me around, and I am flush against him. My back on his chest. His arms spread slowly out, and I immediately fall into position, popping out my hip and spreading my arms, moving my hands slowly and sensually towards his.

Once our hands touch, the dance will begin, and I haven’t done the rumba in years.

I haven’t danced any dance in years.

He lowers his head to my ear, and his lips brush against my ear.

“Ready to rumba?” he murmurs in a husky voice.