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Devon and the girls' preparatory school, Eastborough, had a long standing tradition of a collaborative ball. Come spring, the schools would unite for an evening in a celebration of wealth and status. It was a night of networking, speeches, and dancing. I stood alright on the first two, but my skills with dancing were shameful. The first ball I attended resulted in many stomped feet. I resolved to fix this issue for the 52nd Annual Pendleton District Ball.
Unfortunately, there was hardly anyone to turn to. Devon had no dance class, dance being deemed unfit for the war effort. Phil Latham was considered, albeit briefly, due to his physical expertise. I had just about resigned myself to my danceless fate when I griped to Phineas about my struggles.
"I could teach you," he said in that simple way, as though it was obvious all along. "My mother signed me up for ballroom classes a while back. I bet I still remember a thing or two."
Finny was hardly my first choice for a dance instructor. Although his passion was there, his skills were not. Rhythm, like all musical things, seemed to evade him. This made me nervous, but I had no other choice.
"All right," I resigned.
The likely rusted springs of his bed groaned when he got up. "First things first," he instructed, pulling me out of my chair, "you have to get in the proper positions."
My left hand was placed on his shoulder and my right hand held in his. It was rough from years of work with sports, but the care with which he handled it made it feel to me as soft as cotton. I embarrassingly flinched a bit when he rested his hand between my shoulder blades.
"It's okay, I'll only push you around a little." A warm smile rested on his face while he fine tuned our positions.
"Let's start with a basic rock step," he decided. "When I step forward, you step back."
His foot came towards mine and I did as instructed, if not a bit late.
"Great job, pal!" he beamed.
"One whole step, quite the accomplishment." This was still my sarcastic summer.
"Hey, you're doing better than I was when I started. My teacher had to move my feet for me, I was so confused." I had always been somewhat envious of his ability to be so open about his mistakes. To be able to laugh when reminded of a previous blunder, to play off a fault in a way where everyone, including himself, was smiling. That carefree spirit always evaded me, no matter how hard I tried to catch it.
"Now you're gonna rock back on the foot you just stepped with." I did what was instructed as he rocked towards me. "Good, now rock back to where you were." Simple enough. "And step towards me."
With that, I had completed my first successful dance step. Finny gave me an approving nod.
"Great! You wanna try it a few more times?" The worry I felt must have been evident on my face because he rushed to say, "we can go slow. Just so you can get used to it, nothing too wild."
I nodded. Although I could feel my hand perspiring, he kept it held tender in his own. My first few steps were slow and clumsy, but with time, I was able to feel the pulse of the move and keep in near perfect sync with Phineas.
"Good! How about I show you a spin?" he proposed.
"A spin?" I had only heard of people doing so in novels and movies. Such maneuvers seemed advanced for where we were at.
"Yeah! It's not too hard, you'll see," he said. "I'm going to lift my arm up." He lifted our hands to about our heads. "You're going to take your hand off my shoulder." It dangled loosely by my side, now unsure of what to do with itself. "And I'll turn you away from me."
The hand that had been resting between my shoulder blades gave me a gentle push. The tips of his fingers danced along mine while I turned. He brought our hands back down to shoulder height, his hand reaffirming its hold on mine.
"See? Not too hard," he said with a smile. "Now what else..." His face scrunched with concentration.
"Oh! Yeah, we can do that," he muttered to himself. "This is a really easy lift."
His hand left mine to grip my waist. It was an odd sensation, having someone's hands around me. Somehow, I didn't mind it.
"Put your hands on my shoulders and bend your knees." As I did so, he did the same, bending his knees in sync with me. "And... push!"
With a heave, I was lifted off the ground and spun to the other side of the room. The sun blazed outside our room, throwing a cascade of warm light across everything it could touch. Once my feet were securely planted to the floor, his hand again returned to mine.
He paused a moment in thought before grinning. "You know what we could do?"
"What?" I asked with a heavy tone of caution. Usually when he asked a phrase like that, it meant he was planning to do something outrageous, something potentially dangerous.
"A carry. It's a lot of fun," he said.
I eyed him skeptically. "Are you sure this is something we can both pull off?"
"With no problem. You don't have to do really anything at all and I've done this plenty of times before," he assured.
"If you're sure," I said.
He shifted me in front of him, tilting himself sideways. One arm was wrapped around my waist and the other was under my knees.
"Put your arms around my neck," he instructed.
The world turned and suddenly I was being held much like a princess in a storybook.
"You can let go now, I've got you," he said. "Now do something fancy!"
"Like what!" I demanded.
"I don't know, stick your arms out? That's what I see people do sometimes," he suggested. And so I did, the world spinning with my arms awkwardly splayed. After a few turns, he tilted me back to the side with care. The floorboards creaked when my feet met them.
"You've got to have a good finish, of course," he said in that way where you could tell he was mostly talking for himself. "I'll teach you a dip."
Once again, we were back in formation, my hand in his.
"For this one, you've only got to extend your arms and lean back," he stated. "Basically, let yourself almost fall."
He firmed his grip on my hand and pressed against my shoulders. "Lean back," he directed. I started to, though my nerves prevented me from going farther than an inch or two.
"It's okay, I've got you." His face held a strange expression that I had hardly seen before, concentrated and careful. "Just lean back."
And so I did, as far as I could, and he did not let me fall.
He pulled me back up. "These stuffy balls always have a slow dance, so we should practice that," he said simply. The thought made my heart quicken with anxiety, yet I said nothing to discourage him.
"It's the easiest one. The only hard part is timing it to the music," he reassured.
He pulled me in close, closer than I had expected. Our chests were nearly touching. His hand once on my shoulders was now snugly around my waist. We swayed gently from side to side.
"And if it feels right, you can get more comfortable," he said.
He pulled me in so close our chests were touching. My arm slid over his shoulder and my chin fell naturally near the crook of his neck. An unfamiliar warmth graced my cheek. Finny had rested his head against mine.
"You've done great today," he murmured, our hands laced together.
All that was for naught. I was still woefully under prepared and my coordination was lacking. My home for the ball was once again the refreshment table. That night, I spoke with more adults than I did peers. Our biggest mistake was never teaching me how to lead, but that was not the prevailing issue.
None of the girls were like Finny.
Although their hands were soft and warm to the touch, the way they used them felt rough and cold. Although their grace and poise was unmatched, they lacked his passion. Although they were good, they were not Finny. I found myself wishing to ask him for a dance, though he was always with some girl or another and I knew that was not was this ball was for. It was for pleasantries and climbing social ladders, something to boost status. It was not for joy or freedom, something for work only. The night was dull and soulless, much unlike the day Phineas taught me how to dance.