The Dancer in the Dark

I walked through the dark tunnel that wraps around the rear end of the auditorium. White cement walls surrounded the corridor with a constricting presence; making the quite large space feel quite... claustrophobic. I slinked into the nearest room with a piano with it. About 60% of the rooms are equipped with a piano and a music stand. Every room had a variation of tuning for each piano. Not exactly on purpose, more so somebody was just bad at their job. Regardless, sitting at a dreadfully out of tune piano and plucking away the notes on a basis of how I feel is my most secure moment of the day.

Outside this room is everything I despise, while simultaneously everything else I want. Music is my anchor, so I went to school for it. However, the things I do on a day to day basis are, to put it lightly, boring. Don't get me wrong, it IS "easy". The problem arises in the amount of time required to learn everything. I've skated by until now on pure instinct, in high school I never had to study or care. All I had to do was show up, smile, and mess around. It's not like I'm a genius by any means, but my common sense allowed me to glide by most upper level classes with a 3.5 GPA. On the other hand, I am so abhorrent at test taking that my ACT score was only a 19. Not that any of that really mattered to me. Everything I had done up to that point had been good enough to continue living a happy, carefree life. During this time I was a bit of a player, romance was never really the most important thing to me but I did enjoy flirting with girls and getting flirted with. Overall it was entertaining to me, but then I actually met somebody that cared. Those days have been over for a long time now though.

The sound of the A/C hummed in the dark hallways of the music building. I strolled corner to corner whistling a melody that I've been crafting for awhile now. I take the same route every time I come here, but this time the dance studio door is just open.

"If I just peek while no ones here it shouldn't be an issue." Upon further inspection there was a girl sitting in the corner of the room on her computer. Tucked away in a manner that you wouldn't be able to see her unless you fully stuck your head in the room. Calculated. Isolationist. Somebody who doesn't wanna be bothered. I couldn't make out any specific features about her other than her long hair, packed tightly in a bun. I have to admit I was curious.

Let me list some reasons why this is weird:

1. It is 12:30 am on a Saturday night, which in and of itself is not weird. But given that it is the first week of winter break, most people have retreated to the safety of their family homes.

2. In my time, I have never seen one of these studios open ever.

That's why I am curious.

Maybe I need a new standard for curiosity if this slight coincidence gets my heart racing. Honestly, this is stupid. I am just standing outside of a dark dance studio in the middle of the night, simultaneously a girl I have never seen before is sitting inside all alone. She's even positioned in a way that screams "I don't want to be bothered!" It's all so hypocritical. For me to think about why somebody else is here when I, too, am here. Seriously creepy. Let's get out of here.

"Seriously creepy."

I turned to see a figure still concealed by the darkness standing in the studio doorway. I couldn't help but just stare.

"Excuse me?"

"You don't think its creepy to spy on a girl in the middle of the night?" the girl raised her arms into a shrug.

"I was just heading to the stairs and I've never seen the inside of the dance studio, so I just thought..."

"You just thought?" she interrupted. Interruptions have become a pet-peeve of mine. This seems like a hopeless conversation, I'm getting annoyed. I'm leaving.

"I'm sorry, I'm... I'm leaving now"

"I'll join you then"

What the hell is going on right now? One second she seems pissed (rightfully so) and now she wants to walk with me? Red flag. This is the time of day I don't feel guilty for being by myself. I come here for peace and solitude when I don't wanna be around people. Maybe you're asking yourself: "Why would you go to a public building to do such a thing?" and to that I say kindly, shut up.

"Sorry about being a bit abrasive." She seems genuine. "Seems" being a keyword there.

"No need to apologize." I replied.

"I'm just not used to guys staring at me in the dark, and then it's even worse when they stand right outside the hallway and mumble to themselves." Did it really look that bad? I feel like she's using this as a weapon of conversation. Did I walk into some sort of trap? I swear I was only there for like thirty seconds. I need to defend myself somehow but I don't exactly know how to go about it.

"I didn't think anybody would be here, I thought somebody just left the door open. I figured, what harm can come from a little peek." I swirled my finger around tracing each step of the process. Hallway, practice room, hallway, dance studio. After I finished spouting off a bunch of bullshit she looked at me with the most deadpan face I have ever seen. She had suddenly gotten face to face with me in the same time span. As uncomfortable as this whole interaction has become, it gave me a chance to actually see her face. She was pretty. Platinum blonde hair; maybe she bleached it, but it was surprisingly bright now that I was closer. Long eyelashes, I can't tell if they're fake or real honestly. Her face was slim, with dimples and subtly had a small amount of makeup covering a pimple on her forehead. She's probably the type that always worries about how others see her. People like that tick me off. I couldn't really make out much more than that.

"You're a hypocrite, you know that?" Her face shifted from deadpan to the slightest smile and she looked away, maybe that was just my imagination or a trick of the dimly lit stairwell.

"I was kind of thinking the same thing" I said. "I'm here every weekend at the same times and only on rare occasions have I ever seen another person here. Let alone a dance student. On the other hand, why would you walk with me if you found me creepy?"

"A person has to feel a little bit of excitement every once in awhile, you know?" She was slightly hopping up and down on her toes, arms behind her back. She picked up her hand and held up three fingers.

"Weighing the options we have, what do you prefer: (A.) You're a creeper who was stalking me in the middle of the night. Waiting for me to leave. But if so, why would you wait at all? The angle of where I was sitting, the lighting, the whole atmosphere would lend itself to the perfect timing to commit a crime. A secret admirer who just wants to talk. (B.) You're a random college student just taking your studies too seriously at a random time of night. Which has its own inherent value because then I can meet somebody who is passionate about what they do. See?" She said such a thing so casually. While whirling her fingers around in her hair.

"It's like a win-win." Is this girl alright?

"Where is the win in following a psycho stalker?"

"You misunderstand. I wouldn't be excited because of the stalker themselves, as much as, the whole situation would get my adrenaline pumping."

"Is this some kind of new extreme sport where you make the worst decisions possible? And if your goal is to put yourself in a compromising situation then, why in the music building? Ever heard of barhopping? Or skydiving?"

"Lend me your psyche for a second." She said with an inspired look on her face. Before she continued, she scanned the area. We had meandered well outside of the music building at this point and at some point of the conversation we sat on a bench. The whole area was nothing special. The main road that separates the town laid in front of us. Your typical fast food chains and municipal buildings filled the surrounding area. The sky was clear, the moon sat fancily in a waning crescent. A sliver of moonlight illuminated our surroundings. She began to speak.

"In terms of a situations that cause fear there are a few standouts in mainstream culture. These things vary from person to person. Fear of death, fear of an unknown death is the most terrifying of all..." She stopped talking but continued to look at me. Her opal eyes glistening in the minuscule amount of light. Her face growing more and more agitated as I sat silent. Until she punched my arm.

"Your turn!" Annoying. It felt like she was gonna continue her point but then she just stopped. Somebody needs to learn how to give better social cues.

"In terms of fear, I would agree that most people fear death above all else. But it's still a massive over generalization. In my opinion, a large amount of people go on from day to day without having much thought about fear at all, let alone death. I think that somewhere along the way society accepted the fact ignoring death or fear was the way to go. Fear is only weaponized when people want something." Death itself isn't to be feared in my opinion. I suppose I must defer to her a bit though. Everybody knows they are going to die. You never know when and where that will be (outside of extenuating circumstances) but most assume they will die of old age. Some decide early on that they don't want their life to last all of that time. Consumption of various different drugs, alcohol, and a general lack of societal output leads that person to live a shorter, albeit, "more fulfilled" life. I disagree entirely with them, but if death is something they crave after everything they've done then who am I to say they were wrong. Those who assume they'll die of old age are generally raised in a way that makes them feel secure. Mostly on a physical level but surely it exists to some extent on an emotional level and financial level.

"Wow, quite a statement to say to somebody you met fifteen minutes ago. You're a talker I can tell." I could feel the heat from her stare. I refused to turn my head for some reason or another.

"I would classify myself of the quiet variety"

"Then why would you be sitting on a bench at 1 AM with a girl you just met? Are you excited?" The girl was swinging her legs back and forth. She had her arms draped on the back of the bench staring at the sky. Looking obviously proud of her statement.

"You invited yourself on this journey, not the other way around. Besides I really should be going anyways."

"Too excited??"

This girl is annoying. I took off from the bench and briskly walked away. I swear I wasn't running but the amount of momentum my body had was that of an Olympic speed walker. All in all I can forget about this problem as soon as get home. A nice bong rip would be lovely. I passed out reading 3:01 AM on my clock.

________________________________________________________________________________

The whole conversation I had last night has stuck around in my head. It all happened so fast. A pretty dancer was waiting silently in a dance studio for anybody to walk by. That was my takeaway at least. I reacted in possibly the most natural way I could and it still somehow ended up on a weird topic of conversation. Death is not something you just bring up to a random person. You never know what type of thing may have happened in somebody's life. I typically leave it out of conversations with strangers. Also, I didn't fit either of the options she laid out. I wasn't some stalker that was spying in the night. Nor was I some super passionate college student that she could be excited to meet. So which result did she think she got? A or B?

My mom is calling. Best not to deal with this right now. I have a lot on my plate right now as it stands. On top of this girl deciding to inconvenience my brain, I haven't been going to class. I'll get up in the morning and think, "I don't really want to". In all reality I stress about the way the people around me are perceiving me: what I wear, the things I say, and how I look. All I have to do is carefully craft a means of shifting the blame somewhere else. My room has been losing its sparkle as of lately. I need to laundry, I have empty beer bottles and cup ramen lining my computer desk and TV stand. I kept just shifting them from my desk when it got full and now it has all piled up. Resulting in the space not being very comfortable. I understand that I could easily fix this in a couple hours work, honestly it isn't that bad. I have been running low on funds as of recently as well. My main source of money is dog sitting for my friend once every two months. Living that true college lifestyle!

She left a voicemail.

"Voicemail from, Mom: Carter I haven't heard from you in 10 days! I talked to your brother last night and he said he wasn't sure where you were! I need you to call me right when you listen to this!"

What a pain. I told my brother I was going out, he's just fanning the flames. I can put this off for a little longer. I need to get my shit together a little bit before I talk to her. Like I said before I don't wish for an early death. I'm not suicidal, but I don't fear the possibility of death. Perhaps in the coming years our world will be plunged into turmoil. My heart aches for everybody who would suffer from that. I feel like half of me would be able to peacefully look up at the sky and accept it as some divine intervention. The other half of me would be stuck hand in hand with my family as we rush to move our lives underground. Would it be more responsibility to keep going at that point or less responsibility than I have now? Hypothetical.

I wasted my life away on my computer for a few hours and it was 10 PM. It's time to get going. I packed up my bag with nothing in particular. I only took it for the appearances.

"Where you off to?" my brother prodded.

"Going to practice"

"The semester just ended, what are you practicing for?"

Top ten most unnecessary conversations. And with that I exit my apartment, not another word said.

I enter the music building right on schedule and beeline directly to the practice rooms. The familiar eerie walk kept me company as I sauntered through the dark. Only when I arrived to my destination something was awry. The normally unused row of practice rooms all had the doors open with the lights on, as if begging to be occupied. I stood coldly at the end of the row. Out of the furthest door popped a familiar looking blondie. It was possibly the most cartoonish thing I have ever seen, I couldn't help but let out a little laugh.

"I got the impression you were too cynical to laugh. Or anxious at the very least." The distance between us was significant. She was practically screaming. And where does she get off calling me out on such a personal level?

"The most cynical of people can still be amused." She just shrugged and looked at the ceiling.

"So who are you?" She said it so quickly I'd rather act like I didn't hear her. So I'll act like I didn't hear her.

"What was that?" Without a second thought the girl sprints down the hallway. At the same time my phone begins to vibrate in my pocket. I'm getting a call. She covered the ground fast and met me face to face. This time, in the warm light of the practice room. I would be lying if I said my heart didn't flutter a little bit. She smelled nice, like she was fully ready to go to school for a full day. She had a bright smile on her face and an undeniable aura surrounding her. Ah! My phone.

Incoming call: Mom

She speaks.

"My name is Lola! And you are?"

"I have to take this call." It appears my confidence with the women has waned. She didn't strike me as that attractive one night ago. And now she has me flustered in my place of solitude. And now I am exactly in the situation I didn't want to be in.

"Hello?"

"Carter!"

"Yes Mo..."

"Why did you not call me back right away? I have been worried sick about you. You could at least have the decency to grace me with the sound of your voice. Anything that lets me know you're still alive."

"Well Blake saw me last night and tonight, so you know I'm alive."

"You know that isn't the same thing. Have you been going to class? Did you get a job like you promised? Are you doing any of the things you swore to your father and I that you would do?" I can't really argue, it doesn't matter anyways. Life moves on.

"Well?? Are you gonna grace me with your voice again or did you put your phone down?"

"Okay Mom, I gotta go" I hung up the phone. I could hear her yells get cut off. Probably for the best though.

"You okay? The person on the phone sounded pretty upset. Girlfriend?" Pretty insensitive to listen to a personal phone call. I think she's just trying to get a rise out of me.

"Is that payback for last night?"

"What?! Why would I need revenge? You're fascinating."

"I told my girlfriend I was with you and she got pretty upset. Something about how its cheating or something?" Lola stared dumbfounded back at me. Time to pile on.

"She's on her way here right now."

"I don't believe you have a girlfriend. Who would be in this building right now if they could be spending time with a partner?" Lola twirled her finger in her hair and looked around. Wow, weirdly astute observation. I have a trick though.

"Here, I'll show you pictures." I still have all of the pictures of my ex and I, I can just play it off like we are still dating.

"These are just of her. Don't tell me! You ARE a stalker!" She jumped back and struck a martial arts pose that I couldn't even begin to describe. Fuck, I know I have some pictures of us both. I have one picture of both of us? In four years?

"Wowwwwww, I stand corrected. Sorry playboy I didn't recognize your game." This no longer feels like a good bit. Is it unethical to have represented us as a couple still at all? I'm sure she wouldn't care, it didn't end poorly or anything. We just drifted apart in the end. Lost sight of each other. Sure there is a lot of things that I didn't realize along the way. It was a codependent, toxic relationship that was bad for us both. She wasn't manipulative, I feel some sort of resentment for not being more inquisitive. No matter. Life moves on.

"So you're lying right? I feel like you would've been pretty upfront about that fact. You seem the type." Somehow she ended up right in front of me again.

"Yeah I'm lying."

"I would call you a virgin but I suppose there is some validity to the pictures you showed. Wait! Is that your sister??"

"NO! I don't even have a sister" She seemed to be having a good time messing with me. Typical.

"Lola, was I option A or B last night?"

"You would be Option C." I waited for her expression to break or crack a little but it never did.

"C?"

"Let me clarify that I intended for you to pick. It could always be both A or B. There is a ton of scenarios beyond the two I picked out. Which do you prefer?" I must admit I am incredibly lost.

"The doors to the dance studio are left open at night. You seriously thought you were the only one who ever comes here at night? I've seen you tons of times. On my walk into this building for the first month of school I walked right behind you every day. I never intended for it to be that way, but without fail whenever I got to the parking lot and started walking you'd be right in front of me. Then it just stopped. I thought I had seen a ghost. I tried to figure out your name, what you did, anything. I started coming here at night to study mostly and practice. Free of judgement from my classes and everybody else. And then you started showing up." Lola was proficient at using her hands when she spoke, regardless of whether it was necessary or not.

"So you didn't say anything about this sooner?"

"I wanted to see if you had ever noticed me. Maybe I had caught your eye, and you waited for my car in the morning to get out and start walking so I'd see you. So I was hoping you'd mention something of the sort. Or admit the whole reason you are here at night is because you knew I was." This girl is starting to sound crazier and crazier. I'll just let her leak all of her secrets if I let her keep talking.

"So. Do you prefer the version of the story that I'm a secret admirer who wants to talk or the mysterious girl in the dance room?" I don't think she has been literally stalking me. I think she's concerned I have noticed her and think that.

"Stalker or devoted student? Stalker."

"Wha-??" Her face was getting brighter by the second like she was holding her breath. I'm sure this is a somewhat embarrassing thing to come out and say.

"Seriously though, have you been, like, watching me here?" She got very obviously flustered, in turn making my own heart sink. Every instance of "ghostlike" activity I've experienced could be attributed to this girl? Has she been watching me every night?

"Coincidence, I swear!"

"So you've been watching me for months and what? Why? Anything else?"

"I listen to you play sometimes. I think you underestimate how loud those pianos are. But honestly I just wanna know who you are. So I'll ask again, Who are you? You haven't even told me your name yet!"

How do I go about this? Is it not concerning at all that she knows so much? Is it hot? Wait. Rationally from what she said I can assume it isn't a weird thing. More an admiration thing, curiosity. I guess I can indulge that. A person has to feel a little bit of excitement every once in awhile.

"My name is Carter, I'm 21, and I play piano. That about covers it."

"Lame! Try again!"

"What're you t..."

"EHHHHHH! Wrong answer, try again!" What does she want some snappy intro?

"I am... Carter, the man of pianos, enjoyer of all things Tchaikovsky and Satie, A real connoisseur of the art!"

"So Carter, man of pianos, why was your mom so mad?" she pointed her pointer finger directly in my face.

"Wha-? You knew?"

"Dude, I can read a phone screen."

"It's a bit warranted all things considered I have been avoiding her calls and all interaction with her for a little while." To think I would be talking about this in this hyper-specific scenario never would have occurred to me.

"Ah, protective parents?" Lola was looking at me with a poignant look. Why does she care about this? Other than her general curiosity in me it still doesn't make sense. Is she just an empath?

"It's a bit of a sore spot at the moment..."

"Don't get all somber on me!" Tugging my arm into a practice room, she began tapping on the keys.

"These sound awful. Its like when you touch them they turn into magic." She traced her hand around the piano and looked up at me.

"Play me something!"

"What do you want to hear? A pop song? Are you into movie soundtracks?" I wanna be impressive now that she's watching. Not that she hasn't BEEN watching I guess.

"Give me something that makes me feel like I'm floating through the night as I dance. Building into a grand climax or something emotional. Something like that?"

And with those words I began playing Erik Satie's Je Te Veux.