The Song of David(49)

PEOPLE WHO CAN see constantly move their heads. It wasn’t anything I had noticed before, not until I spent time with Millie. But movement was directly tied to sight, and where everyone else tossed and turned their heads, their bodies following where their eyes went, Millie moved cautiously, her spine straight, her chin level, her shoulders back, ready to soak in every available clue. She didn’t tip her head toward her feet when she tied her shoes or tilt her head up when the bell of a shop rang overhead. Moving her head didn’t give her any more information, and as a result, she was perfectly contained, and strangely impenetrable. It made her appear regal, like a Japanese Geisha. But it was intimidating too.

I was restless, always had been, and her stillness beckoned me while her concentration on the smallest things made me more aware of myself, of my size and my tendency to break things. I had always been physical, more inclined to hug than hold back, as inclined to touch as talk, although I did both. I wondered if Millie would have been as controlled if she could see, or if her poise and patience were a byproduct of the loss of her sight. The only time she moved with abandon was when she was dancing, hands glued to the pole, head moving with the music, body pulsing with the rhythm.

I watched her dance every chance I could get. It wasn’t her skimpy outfit or her graceful limbs, taut stomach, and shiny hair, though I was a man and I’d taken note of all those things immediately. But all the girls had beautiful, strong, slim bodies. All the girls danced well. But I watched Millie. I watched Millie because she fascinated me. She was a brand new species, an intoxicating mix of girl and enigma, familiar yet completely foreign. I’d never met anyone like her, yet I felt like I’d known her forever. And since the moment I’d looked down into her face and felt that jolt of ode-to-joy-and-holy-shit, I’d been falling, falling, falling, unable to stop myself, unable to look away, helpless to do the smart thing. And the smart thing, the kind thing would be to stay away. But no one had ever accused me of being particularly smart.

Now she stood perfectly still in the center of the crowded room, people swarming and slipping around her, her eyes open and unseeing. But open. Her stillness drew my gaze. Her straight dancer’s posture unyielding, chin high, hands loose at her side. She was waiting for something. Or just absorbing it all. I didn’t know, but I couldn’t look away. Everyone hurried around her and almost no one seemed to see her at all, except for the few who tossed an exasperated look at her unsmiling face as they squeezed past her and then realized she wasn’t “normal” and hurried away. Why was it that no one saw her, yet she was the first thing I saw? Her dress was blue. A pale, baby blue that made her eyes the same color. Her hair was gleaming, her lips red, and she held her walking stick like the stripper pole, swaying to the music as if she wanted to dance. She’d never come to the bar on club night before. I would have noticed her.

It’d been almost a week since the kiss. Millie had worked her shifts as usual and was her same smiling self, calm and collected, unassuming and independent. I thought for sure I was going to have some explaining to do. Some unruffling. But Millie seemed unaffected. Or maybe she just had me figured out. I didn’t know, but I was simultaneously grateful and offended that there hadn’t been any attempts to pin me down. Instead, I walked her home like I had a dozen times before, and we conversed like old friends, though I found myself looking longer, eyeing her mouth, and thinking of her when we weren’t together. Being with Millie spoiled me a bit. I never had to guard my feelings or school my expression. I could look at her like a man looked at a lover, and she had no idea.

She had no idea I watched her now, although I hoped like hell she’d come here for me. I excused myself from the palms I’d just greased and moved toward her. From the way her chin rose and her nostrils flared slightly, she heard me coming, even though she didn’t turn her head. I took her stick and set it aside. Then I laid my hand on her waist, and took her hand in mine. I was a rich kid, wasn’t I? My mama had made me learn all the rich kid things. Dancing, good manners, all the things that made me as slick as could be. All the things that made people trust me and made me slightly sick to my stomach. But Millie wanted to dance, that was plain to see, and no one was asking. Thank God. I didn’t know if I could handle watching her dance with someone else.

I pulled her in tight and felt her little intake of breath and couldn’t help but catch my own. She was so composed, but she felt something. She felt the ode. I wouldn’t lead her around the floor in a silly side to side shuffle. I knew how to dance and dance we would.