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My body ignites as a hand brushes my arm and thigh, a reminder that I'm not dancing alone. There’s a beautiful simplicity to the way we dance with each other, a rise and fall, a gracefulness and knowing. We’ve been together for so long now, every movement is natural, effortless as we move around each other. We know each other so well we can predict the next movement, reacting instinctively to every turn and dip as we circle one another. There's an unspoken understanding, a knowing, as we dance that is as magical as it is skilled.
Before, when the music began to swell, I’d felt a heavy weight on my heart due to my love for Tiny and the fear her brother would take her away from us. But now he's gone, and I can breathe again. Here in this park with friends and family, we are liberated. I no longer feel the same acute suffocation. We are free to dance, to laugh, to love without limits.
We have formed bonds with these people here today. Powerful alliances built on friendship and loyalty. We’re safe to dance free and unencumbered in their presence. We can share a piece of our souls, of our shared history knowing that we’ll never be judged, but supported.
“Titch?” I hear York question, drawing my feet to a standstill as I watch his warm fingertips follow the path of Tiny’s sudden tears, her emotions overwhelming her in the moment.
Outwardly sharing the same emotions I feel coursing in my veins. My breath hitches, my chest heaving as I watch the droplets slowly track their way down her cheeks. York tenderly traces them with his fingers, before crushing Tiny to his chest, swaying together. God how he loves her.
“We’re here. We’re with you,” he says, and something inside of me breaks free.
A fiery surge of love blooms outwards from my chest and I bolt towards them both, enveloped in the memory of that night and the raging emotions that tore through my veins, just as they do now. York catches my movement, and just like before, he dips Tiny backwards, arching over her as she folds backwards. Spinning my body to the side, I soar through the air, flipping over his back only to tumble away, propelled by my own momentum as I continue to dance around them both.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of York and Tiny as he lifts her up, her legs encircling him as they spin with wild abandon. She throws her head back, and releases a joyous cry as her hair flies out around her in a halo of deep mahogany, the dying embers of the sun highlighting her hair with gold. I hold my breath, caught by her beauty, and her trust in him.
Her faith in us even through the dark times has never wavered. She is, and will always be the centre of our world, so deeply treasured, loved with every part of us.
Letting go of York’s arms, trusting him to keep her safe, Tiny leans back and throws her hands above her head. Fear catches in my throat, but it’s forgotten the moment I register our friends cheering and clapping, in awe of our performance. Their approval washes away my fear like a soothing salve, feeling their love and friendship is a balm to my fear, and as the music cascades around us I look over to Dax and Zayn, who are watching us with pride. Forgoing the rest of my steps from that night in favour of new ones, I motion them over.
Getting to their feet, they move towards us, picking up the feel of the dance and interpreting it in their own way. Dax, of course, is better equipped for this style than Zayn, York and me, and he approaches us in a series of barrel leaps that has everyone on their feet, roaring in support.
When the three of us reach York and Tiny, she’s back on her feet held in his arms as they sway together. Her cheeks are flush, and happiness shines out of her eyes like a beacon as she turns and holds out her arms towards me.
"Come here," she whispers, her smile breaking my heart and reassembling it all at the same time.
“It didn’t seem right not to include them” I say, brushing my lips against hers as York steps back and I take his place, twirling her beneath my arms before letting her go to Dax who snakes his arm around her waist and lifts her off the ground, turning on the spot.
More cheers. More whistles and claps.
“That was stunning,” he says, as she steps lightly to the ground, leaning up to press her lips against his before pirouetting into Zayn's arms, the skirt of her yellow sundress lifting up to show her lean legs and white cotton knickers. Desire stirs inside of me just like it always does.
Swiftly ducking down, Zayn catches her at the waist, and with incredible strength, lifts her up in the air above him as she arches gracefully over his head, her carefree laughter bubbling up her chest in this sweet moment of pure joy.
Slowly lowering her to the ground, he wraps his arms around her, swaying from side to side as he kisses along her shoulder, and right at that moment I feel the truth of who we are. In this field amongst friends we dance as a powerful, unified force. The ebb and flow of our bond moves our feet and synchronises our steps. There isn't a moment when we're not joined in some way. A touch of a hand, arms folding around each other, fingers sliding over bare skin as we lift Tiny, then fall into step, moving in sequence and harmony.
We're carried by the song, the motion, the indescribable way we can predict each other's moves. It's as though a spell has been cast. Our love, friendship, passion and hope for the future stirred up in the warm late summer air around us, creating an unexplainable feeling of power and strength witnessed by our friends. That magic takes over, carrying us away into memories we’ve shared together. Right here in Abney Park we become so much more than the sum of our parts.
We evolve from broken kids into adults who found love, affection and home in each other.
As the music comes to an end, the sun has almost set, and twilight wraps us all up in its comforting embrace. We pause, catching our breaths and basking in the afterglow of our dance, our friends looking on. It’s hard to believe that just a few years ago we were just a group of strangers thrown together by circumstance. Now we’re bonded together through hardship and turmoil, love and kinship, brotherhood and loyalty.
Tiny slides her hand into mine, and we walk slowly back to the group. Arden is the first to approach us, and he reaches out, shaking my hand. As his fingers wrap around mine, I feel him slip something into my palm. Pulling me to him he wraps a hand around my back, whispering in my ear.
“She’s going to be beautiful.”
My eyes meet his and understanding passes between us. “Thank you,” I reply.
Later when we’re back home, I pull out the piece of folded paper he gave me, unfolding it, and find myself staring into the eyes of a small child, her curly dark hair and bright green eyes so very similar to mine.
TWENTY
No Diggity
PEN
“I’m so proud of you!”Asia says, her eyes bright with happiness and pride as George and Sebastian step off the stage. It’s glassy and smooth, a flat plain of black. The glare of the stage lights reflecting from the polished floor making it look like a sheet of obsidian.
It’s the afternoon of the competition and Ivan and Rose’s troupe have just finished their final dress rehearsal before the big night. The atmosphere in the club is electric as the competing troupes mill around, waiting for their chance to rehearse. To our left, one group of dancers are wearing sparkly leotards, their faces hidden behind a spray of body glitter as they get ready to take to the stage.
