Kelly and I slept peacefully and my internal clock had a rare morning of malfunction, letting me sleep until 7am. When I awoke, Kelly was still soundly asleep curled up in a ball facing my chest with one of my arms draped across her body. I removed my arm and rolled back slightly so I could look at her and I was struck by how young she looked at that moment. For the first time, I felt a flicker of doubt, but at this exact moment I saw Kelly's one visible eyelid open and she gazed at me.
"I don't like the look of that. No, sir, not one bit," she said with a weary smile. "I wake up feeling better than... well, ever... and there you are looking at me like you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar."
"You just look particularly young this morning," I said as I brushed some of the hair away from the side of her face.
"Too young to choose my own one-night stands," she asked curiously. "You may want to think you're ever so dashing and seductive, but I chose to bring you here."
"One-night," I asked with an arched eyebrow.
"Well, that look made me think you were about to flee the cabin, but I was hoping for another night," she said with a playful smile.
"We'll see if you still feel that way tonight then," I said mysteriously. "Are you sore?" Her only response was a withering look of exasperation.
"Right, well I have a cure for that. But first, breakfast. Sleep a little more if you like or shower and I'll find you when the food is ready."
Breakfast was wheat pancakes with a fresh blueberry compote and turkey bacon. This met with a satisfied nod from Kelly when she emerged from the shower. After we were done she retreated to the couch with her book and I took a shower of my own. She watched in silence as I loaded the suit bag and a small gym bag back into my car but was waiting attentively when I returned.
"So where are we off to," she asked.
"Part one of the surprise I said."
"Oh, multiple parts, I may have to get excited," she said sarcastically.
"Three or four, depending on how you count."
Kelly rolled her eyes at me and headed for the door. It took about 45 minutes to arrive at our first destination, which got me a pair of raised eyebrows when I parked in front of a dance studio.
"This place looks clo..." she started, just as another car pulled in beside us.
"Mr. Bell I assume," said the older woman who got out of the newly arrived car.
"Yes, that's me," I said as I showed her my driver's license.
"I will unlock and clear the alarm. If you need to leave for lunch, just lock the door. I will be back before 4:00pm to close back up. Is there anything else you need," she inquired with a glance at Kelly.
"I don't believe so, but I have your number if needed. Thank you very much for doing this on such short notice."
"Hard to refuse good money, and Sharon provided an excellent reference." The woman quickly unlocked the door to the studio and cleared the alarm. She then got back in her car and was gone before either of us could utter a goodbye, but we waved politely as she left.
"Let's go," I said to Kelly, "we have a lot of work to do."
"Work," she exclaimed loudly. "I'll have you know I'm supposed to be relaxing and enjoying the twilight of my youth before the world begins the slow process of sucking the life out of me."
"Very dramatic and so very teenager of you," I chided. "If you love something, it's never work. Which of course doesn't mean it isn't hard or difficult, but if you view dance as 'work', then perhaps I've made a mistake."
"No, no, you're right," she said as she entered the studio. "I just wish you'd warned me so I could have brought appropriate clothes from home."
I hefted the gym bag I was carrying and said, "no worries, I'm a good planner." I took out a pair of work out shorts and a sports bra. She eyed me suspiciously but disappeared into the back area to locate a restroom or changing room after she returned I did the same and came back wearing shorts only. We started with some stretching and basic exercises, which elicited some groans from Kelly at certain points.
After 30 minutes of this, I began to run her through some basic ballroom and contemporary routines. With just an hour of this I concluded that she was perhaps a little hard on her opinion of her dancing. She was correct in that she would probably never be a top tier professional, but she was quite good at several things. I changed tack in the last half hour before lunch and told her to improvise something for me. It was here she blossomed and she positively glowed while she ran through what was obviously a well-practiced routine.
"Beautiful," I said enthusiastically when she finished, "but not improvisation. Did you choreograph it?"
"Yes," she said with a blush.
"How many have you done?"
"Lots. I've always liked creating something, just never been as good at performing it," she said bashfully.
"How many include things that you yourself cannot do?"
"Um... none... I only create them for myself."
"That is without a doubt the saddest thing I have heard. At school I truly hope you learn to create for someone else. If you can learn to not limit one talent with the shortcomings of another, you might unlock something wonderful."
"Well... I suppose that's good advice... I will try to remember it. Now, do I get a performance too?"
"Do you want one?"
Kelly smiled widely and said, "absolutely."
I went rummaging in the back and found the audio equipment the studio used and put in a CD from my bag. There was a remote to control it which I took back to Kelly and told her to hit Play when I looked up. I cleared my mind, calmed my breathing, and focused my mind on a mental picture of Kelly. At first I tried to focus on something sexual... her bathing suit... the late night swim... but all of them refused to settle in place and vanished quickly. Ultimately, my brain settled on an image of her from Saturday morning, tired, with bed hair and eyes full of sleepy promise.
When I finally looked up, I captured her eyes and smiled, letting my mental picture overlay the reality in front of me. She started the music and I flowed from form to form, but always I left my eyes on her. I did not plan what I did, it was not an existing routine, but there were of course familiar patterns. The music and Kelly herself led me from point to point and my maneuvers rose and fell with the music. By the end there were tears dotting her cheeks and she wiped them away in embarrassment when I finished. I felt something stir at me as I watched her do it, something I hadn't felt in a very long time, but I pushed it away with practiced ease.
"How do you do that," she whispered. "It looked... no, it felt... like you were dancing for me."
"I was. That's what you asked for," I said simply. "Dancing, real dancing, is like stripping naked for anyone that happens to be watching. If you improvise, you let the music and your own heart combine to create something, otherwise it's just... mechanics. But even with choreography, you are combining that, the music, and yourself to bring something to life... a whole greater than the parts. Great choreography with bad dancers is just as bad as a great dancer with bad choreography. Choreography is a collaborative art where improvisation can be deeply personal. If you choreograph *and* dance something for someone, it will of course transcend any improvisation, but only if you put yourself into both parts."
