Page 43 of Born to be Wilder

I had spent so much of this trip grieving things that hadn’t happened yet. Grieving Alice’s surgery. Grieving the outcome I didn’t know. Grieving a Heaven that might feel empty when the time finally came. Anticipating loss the way you anticipated bad weather, always watching the horizon for storm clouds.

But there were no storm clouds tonight. Tonight there was just this booth, these drinks, this country music, and these three women who made me wilder and freer than I’d ever been on my own. I would stop grieving their futures. I would love them right here, right now, tonight.

As we finished our food, the music volume rose and the lights lowered like the place was transforming from a restaurant into a bar as the clock struck nine thirty. The music that had been background noise suddenly filled the room with the opening kick of a new song, and from somewhere behind me came a whoop and a cheer. I turned to see the floor in the center of the bar filling with people tapping their feet to the tune.

In no time, the whole group stepped and turned in perfect synchrony, boots hitting the floor in unison as they laughed and smiled.

“Oh! Line dancers!” I clapped and pointed at them. “That looks so fun!”

“I have absolutely no idea how they remember all the steps.” Sylvie leaned forward on her elbows, slowly shaking her head. “They are in perfect sync!”

Alice chuckled. “That? Oh, that’s nothing. Try to memorize an entire dance routine that lasts over an hour. Now that is hard.”

“Get out there and show ’em how it’s done!” Marge bumped her with an elbow a little too hard, and Alice grimaced and rubbed her ribs.

My face lit up. “Yes! Let’s do it!”

Sylvie scrunched her face. “Do what? Have Alice go show them she’s a famous showgirl and can dance circles around them all?”

I shook my head, eyes widening with excitement. “No. All of us. Right now. Let’s join!”

Sylvie recoiled. “Me? Line dancing? Oh no. You do not want to see that disaster.”

I nodded. “Yes. I do. I do want to see that disaster, and I want to be a disaster with you.”

“Really?” Marge sat forward. “You want to go line dancing?”

I nodded harder, my heart racing with excitement. “Yes! I do! My wishes are always boring. It’s always all of you pushing me out of my comfort zone. Every single time. I still have a few hours left as captain, and this time, I want it to be me pushing you! I’ve spent so much of my life missing out on the fun stuff because it wasn’t godly. But you know what? God gave us rhythm! God gave us humans who can make music! Maybe he wants us out there dancing!”

Marge looked at me, a smile breaking on her face. “Well, hot damn, Doris! I may not be able to carry a rhythm to save my life, but if you want to line dance, I’m with you! Let’s show God what we can do!”

Alice smiled. “I’ll never say no to dancing.”

I looked at Sylvie, who shrank lower in the booth. “Are you in?”

She bit her lip. “I’m so bad at this. I’m going to embarrass us all.”

I reached over and grabbed her hand. “So embarrass us. Who cares! We’re going dancing. Captain’s orders.”

I straightened my helmet and rose, standing up so fast my napkin flew off my lap. I dragged her up with me, and she groaned but followed along, her shoulders slumped as I pulled her out onto the dance floor.

We slipped behind the dancers, and I watched them closely, trying to learn the moves before starting to move with them.

Or trying to move with them, because as it turned out, when it came to line dancing… we were terrible. Magnificently, spectacularly, horrifyingly terrible. We were a chaotic cluster of silver hair and flailing arms spinning and turning and crashing into each other as we missed every single step.

Well, three of us were terrible, Alice was a marvel, learning the steps in record time, dancing on those long legs of hers she’d made a career out of. And in our new line of signature orthopedic heels to boot. If Fran were here, she’d be shooting a commercial for sure.

The steps were a mystery the three of us couldn’t unlock, but we didn’t care. Our laughter nearly drowned out the music as we tried to keep up. I kept going left when everyone went right. Marge was half a beat behind on every turn, stomping with enthusiasm that had absolutely nothing to do with the rhythm.

“Whoops! Sorry!” I apologized for the millionth time as I crashed into a woman when I spun the wrong way.

“You’re doing great, sweetie!” She smiled back. “Keep going!”

The music changed and everyone grabbed a partner. The widows and I stood in the center of the dance floor, trying to make sense of what was now happening. A man in a cowboy hat grabbed Marge without warning, and she shrieked first with surprise and then with joy as he spun her around the floor.

“Look at me! I’m Ginger Rogers!” she called, then whooped as they twirled away.

Another young man slid up next to Alice, offering his hand, which she accepted with a bow. Together they danced off like they’d been partners for decades.