An Imperfect Librarian - Elizabeth Murphy [37]
Norah talks while the mermaid takes our plates away. “I’ve been to the union, the dean, the VP. They were as bad as he was. If they don’t give me tenure, I’ll...”
The woman at the other table stands then turns around. She doesn’t look anything like Elsa. But maybe Elsa is different now. I haven’t seen her since I moved to Newfoundland over seven months ago. I like to remember how she looked when we married. Tatie called her La Princesse de Carl. Papa approved highly of our marriage. Elsa was Norwegian. The Normans are a tribe originally from Norway, he told me. I was marrying a descendant of a forceful breed of warriors. Bravo, son! Bravo! he congratulated me.
We don’t bother with dessert or coffee. The mermaid brings our bill.
“Ron Hynes and his band are playing at the bar,” Norah says. “He’s great to dance to. He wrote ‘Sonny’s Dream.’ I should have played it for you while you were at my place. That’s an excuse for you to come back.” She smiles then lays her hand on the side of my head.
We walk from the restaurant to the bar. Before we’re there, it starts to pour. The water brings out a strange smell off my clothes. I remember that I need to find a place to live where my trousers and shirts don’t have to share closet space with cleaning fluids.
“Howdy. Five bucks cover,” the woman at the door says.
There are no seats but we find a place to stand not far from the musicians. They’re set up on a stage that’s barely a foot off the floor. The music starts. I ask Norah if she’d like a drink. She says something but I can’t hear her because we’re standing near the speakers. I reach my ear closer to her mouth.
“I said I love that song!”
“Would you like to–” I wasn’t going to say dance but Norah throws her jacket onto the back of someone’s chair, grabs my hand and leads me out onto an empty floor in front of the band. We have plenty of room since no one else is dancing. Norah needs the space for when she twirls with her arms spread out. I try to stay facing her. It’s not easy because she turns often. I’m relieved when the song ends.
“Let’s have a hand for the first dancers of the evening.”
Norah claps while I take off my jacket. She grabs hold of my hand again. The band starts another song. In no time, the dancers have gone from two to twenty. Someone moves a table to make more dancing space. A dancer bumps against me from behind and pushes me into Norah. She rests her hands on my shoulders. I lay my hands on her waist. When the music stops, she lets go.
“I’ll get you a drink–” I’m about to say of water but the man on stage with the cowboy hat and guitar interrupts.
“We’re gonna give our dancers a chance to slow down, maybe do some huggin’. Don’t get carried away.” The audience laughs. “In a world of romance don’t miss out on the chance to be dancin’ the ‘St. John’s Waltz,’” he sings. The audience applauds.
The music starts and more bodies squeeze onto the dance floor. “You lead,” she says.
I take hold of her outstretched arm then reach my hand around her back to draw her close to me. I move with the flow of all the other bodies. I close my eyes while the man with the cowboy hat sings about seagulls dreaming seagulls’ dreams. The song ends. We clap and the music starts again. I stay with her on the dance floor until she tells me she needs to pee.
“If you go to the bar, I’ll have a double Morgan and coke, single ice,” she says. It takes me two songs to get served. When I come back, I see she’s found another partner. I leave her drink on the edge of the speakers near where she’s dancing. Now and then, her arms fly up in the air and sway. The band plays another song, then another.
“Time for a break,” the cowboy finally says. The audience groans. “Right after this song.” People applaud. “We had a request from...” He pauses while he talks to someone on the dance floor. “We’re gonna play a request from Norah. This is ‘Atlantic Blue.’ If you can’t be with the one you love then you know what you gotta do.”
Norah waves for me to join her. I