8

Eyes

It is dance night at George’s house. Eliasi has strung tiny white lights along the porch roof and railings and into the house, even though it isn’t yet dark.

George and I walk up the porch steps, Theo catching up with us.

“How was the art class?” asks George. “Did you like Micha?”

“I did,” says Theo. “She said I am a ‘thoughtful’ painter.”

“Really? What did you paint?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” says Theo. “But it was thoughtful.”

George laughs.

“My friend Dahlia painted big bright things. Dahlia is a kind of wild girl,” Theo says.

George nods. “I know Dahlia.”

“Marco is very precise,” says Theo. “He did many lines that ended up as a face! We’re going to begin a project together.”

A project. That word I remember hearing from Jake.

“Don’t ask me about the project,” warns Theo, holding up his hands as a shield. “It is presently a secret.”

I am fairly sure the word “presently” is Micha’s word.

“I have hamburgers and salads, cheeses, pickles, and chips,” says Eliasi, coming out on the porch.

“Could I eat later?” asks Theo. “I want to see George’s library.”

George points to the stairs just inside the door.

“What about samaki?” I ask Eliasi slyly.

George had told me the Swahili word for “fish.”

“And burned samaki for Louisiana!” says Eliasi, looking impressed. “Come in, come in, and then after dinner we’ll dance.”

“Not me,” I say softly.

“Not me,” whispers George.

Inside Willa is wearing a long black dress. She has sparkling stars clipped in her curly hair. They catch the light as she moves.

“Louisa! I have something for you, for later. Do you have a pocket?” asks Willa.

“Yes. What is it?”

“I’ll show you when we dance,” says Willa.

Willa hands me a small cloth bag. I put it in my pocket. And then I see the huge caprese salad on the table.

I grin.

George laughs. “Even I am beginning to like it.”

“You go ahead and eat,” says Willa. “Eliasi and I will wait for Boots and Jake. It won’t be long.”

Willa goes to the kitchen, and we see Eliasi suddenly take her in his arms, the two of them dancing slowly across the room.

“See?” says George. “No music.”

I nod. “I saw Boots and Jake dance without music.”

George and I eat. George even eats burned samaki.

I can’t stop watching Willa and Eliasi, dancing and turning around the kitchen together.

“It isn’t about the music, is it?” I say.

“No,” says George.

“And it isn’t really about the dancing, either.”

I stop eating and put down my fork. I fold my hands under my chin and lean on the table, looking at George.

He puts down his fork, folding his hands under his chin, leaning on the table, imitating me.

“What are you two doing?” asks Theo, sitting down in front of the large hamburger Eliasi has left on his plate.

“We are speaking to each other wordlessly,” says George.

“Oh,” says Theo. “Is it working?”

“Yes,” says George.

“Yes,” I say.

No one speaks for a moment.

“I want a library,” says Theo finally, almost mournfully.

“I’ll help you,” says George.

“You will?”

“I will,” says George, nodding. “We have extra bookshelves in the cellar.”

Theo sits back and stares at George for such a long time I think Theo might be about to cry. Sometimes Theo does that, cries after thinking for a long time about something sad or something for which he is grateful or excited. But instead, Theo looks at the kitchen as Eliasi swings Willa out and then back in his arms.

“They don’t have music,” he says, making George smile at me.

“And they’re kissing now,” Theo adds.

And they are.

George shakes his head.

“It’s not about the dance,” he says again.

I can’t think of anything to say.

And then the loud ferry horn sounds. The ferry is coming into the small harbor.

Rafiki and Tess come out from under the table, Rafiki’s ears up, listening.

The horn sounds again.

We all walk out to the porch, Rafiki running down the steps.

“Rafiki!” I call.

“Let him go,” says Eliasi. “Maybe he’ll get on the ferry. Maybe he’ll stay. He has his own life. But he’ll come back when he wants, I know.”

“Like my parents,” I say.

I could be having an exotic life somewhere with them.

Eliasi puts his arm around me. “Like your parents,” he repeats.

I look up at Eliasi. “How do you know Rafiki will come back?”

“He likes my burned samaki,” says Eliasi.

“And he loves my father,” says George.

“Like your parents,” says Eliasi.

The sun is setting. Dusk will come soon.

“I hope Jake is all right,” I say.

“You can worry about Jake’s eyes,” says Eliasi very softly. “But you never have to worry about Jake.”

I can feel tears in the corners of my eyes. I brush them away.

“Louisiana?” says Eliasi.

“What?”

“Look,” says George.

I look down the hill. And there are Boots and Jake walking up, Rafiki running ahead of them, leading the way.

“We’re back! I got a shot in the eye!” calls Jake. “Let’s dance!”

Images

It is nearly dark and the tiny white lights seem brighter now. Boots and Jake sit at the table to eat before they dance.

Jake sees me watching him. He holds out his hand and pulls me closer.

“I had a little ‘leakage’ in my eye, Louisa. The doctor gave me a shot to clear it up. My eye will see better after a while.”

And then the music comes on, slow and sweet. Theo comes downstairs from the library.

Willa pulls me to the mirror. She takes the little bag out of my pocket. It is filled with star clips. She clips them all around my terrible hair, so that soon, in front of my eyes, I look enchanted.

I say that to Willa.

“We’re all a little enchanted,” she says.

“Come out to the porch where no one will watch you,” calls Theo. “You have to be a beginner before you can dance like Willa and Eliasi. Just remember to look bored.”

“I’m not sure about this,” calls George from the kitchen.

“Me neither,” I call to him.

George comes out of the kitchen and stops when he sees me. “What have you done?”

“Willa did it.”

George keeps staring at me. “You sparkle,” he says finally.

I shrug. “It’s dance night,” I say.

Rafiki comes out from under the table with a dill pickle hanging out of his mouth, while Tess sleeps.

George and I laugh.

Dance night.

Images

So here is my startling story about dance night.

It is dark on the porch, but the music and white lights make it pleasant and that word “enchanted.”

“Bored, remember,” says Theo.

But as it turns out it is Theo who is bored in the end. He watches as George puts his hand on my waist and takes my hand. And somehow we know how to dance, as if we had been taught long ago in another life but had forgotten until now.

We have never been this close to each other before. Even our eyes are close. I see Theo leave the porch and go up the stairs to George’s library.

I think about eyes—Jake’s eyes, better for a while. George turns us around and we move closer.

“Are you bored?” asks George, his mouth close to my ear.

“I don’t feel bored,” I say.

I can feel George sigh against me.

“I’m not bored at all,” he says.

And then I look into George’s eyes. I can see the reflection of the stars in my hair there.

Eyes.

I can see George—

And I can see me.

Eyes.