Into the Light

31. I Feel For You

We sure are a raucous lot tonight... and I must find a way to stop laughing for a while, or my stomach muscles will cramp for good. And I have sometimes thought that the people I used to know back in Uman knew how to party? Well, have I been wrong. This is real partying - celebration, having fun together, enjoying each others' company. Not just a roomful of people getting higher and more drunk by the minute.

Not that we wouldn't be drunk, though. Our house is full of the sounds of a party: clicking of glasses, laughter, steps, animated talking. The first ooh's and aah's have subsided, our friends have had enough opportunity to snoop around, to peer into every nook and cranny. They have seen and tried out and thoroughly approved of the downstairs studio. The more adventurous have even stripped and dipped into the pool, as evidenced by their still wet hair.

We're once more upstairs, spread all around the living room, with brimming plates and drinks - the serving table sure looks like it's been happily plundered. Cider, salads, sandwiches and snacks are being consumed at an astonishing rate by a very jubilant crowd, and I've never felt this good about playing the host. But then, these are my friends, people who mean something to me, every single one of them.

Ah, Darel's pretty chestnut-curled girlfriend seems to be having fun, too, she doesn't look so shy and overwhelmed by my and Chaim's formidable presence any more. Rashim has just disappeared into the kitchen with some bowls to get a refill, immediately followed by Geill's wife. She, a tall and full-figured Amazon with a broad smile, has in fact spent quite a lot of time there tonight... I told her no, but she just grinned that she's not able to suppress her waitress' instincts, and I won't start arguing with a lady who looks like she could twist me into a knot with one hand. Probably could, too. She's gorgeous.

Everybody has agreed that the house is in every way absolutely droolworthy, and that they are going to make use of every shred of an excuse to invite themselves over to have a party. I'm so happy that they aren't overawed, like Rashim's parents were when they visited us three days ago. Oh, of course they liked it... it's probably just that seeing my millions in such a tangible form was something of a shock to them. But they recovered pretty well in the end, and our friends have recovered, too, in a much shorter time. Of course all the wine and cider and Timaschel might have something to do with that.

Chaim is lounging on one end of the sofa, the other is occupied by Aidee and Meia, and between them Dionn is sitting perched on its backrest, feet on the seat cushions. They all are holding half-full glasses - we have hardly stopped toasting each other, and particularly our beaming Rith, for longer than fifteen minutes tonight. Beny's long legs are occupying most of the thick carpet on one side - it's a miracle nobody has tripped over them yet, but I guess the other dancers are so used to his legs being all over the place - and Kim is crouched next to him, telling him how fantastic the entire performance was. He is enthusiastic, his hands are flying and every now and then he slips into his native 'Demieni. That means he must be damn enthusiastic indeed; I think I've only once managed to upset him enough to hear that happen.

"So, Rith, now the grand opening is over!" Chaim raises his voice a little to be heard. "What are the next plans?"

"Oh please, Chaim - we still have several performances left!" Leni laughs, but Rith has already perked up.

"Now we start planning and rehearsing our first real performance," she says, and there are immediate protests from several people - none of them dancers.

"What do you mean, 'real'? Wasn't this then real?"

"This was a very good start," Rith explains. "A gala like this, showcasing the different things one can do with free dance, is just the thing when most people in the audience know very little of what this is all about. But the next step is to make a full play, something with a plot and story and a few acts. We're making dance theater here, folks!"

"Hey, hold it," Geill laughs over his glass. "Don't you go getting that glint in your eyes, everybody. You're spoiling the party! No more working today!"

"He's right," I put in. "The rehearsals won't start today, and that's final."

"Okay, okay, but what kind of a piece have you been thinking about?" Rashim is interested. Rith shakes her head.

"I'll have to take a good look at several classics and see what we'll be able to produce with our current cast," she says. "So, no quick answers. Besides, I'll probably have to make some changes anyway. Five males and three females isn't much, especially as we are still years away from having advanced students who could be used as crowds and such. Except for Toni, that is."

I try not to drown myself in my drink while the others laugh.

"No, Toni isn't much of a crowd," Darel agrees with a wink.

"What are you talking about?" I manage to wheeze at last. "Me, advanced student? Bad joke, Rith!"

"It was no joke," she says calmly. "Really, Toni, the only thing I'm sorry about is that I didn't get my hands on you some five-six years ago. You're a dancer who's just been waiting to happen, so damn talented and with a perfect build - that's largely why you're able to train so hard, and why you've been making such progress, too. And -"

"Rith, please!" My whole face is aflame, and I really don't think I can handle more praise right now. But Rashim saves me, his arm wraps around my waist and his lips clamp on the side of my neck with such intensity that I instantly forget about anything else.

"Don't you make my Toni blush," he instructs the others, and the playfully possessive growl makes a shiver run down my spine. "I'm the only one who has permission to do that!"

Rith decides to have mercy on me, much to the delight of his faithful blonde bodyguard, but speculation concerning the fledgling Dirna Dance Theater's next production still goes on for some time. Much hilarity ensues when the talk drifts back to the days when most of the dancers still used to be students in the classical dance school. It's very apparent that it's not so much the actual style of dancing but rather the attitudes of the teachers that has alienated them.

"And I wasn't the right type!" Beny says acidly from his spot on the floor. "Not the right type, they said - and fuck them, back then I wasn't even thinking of becoming a professional dancer! I just liked dancing!"

"Yeah, you'd be too strong and muscular, just like I was," Dionn agrees. "Plus, you're far too tall... But man, I remember hearing that everybody was practically spitting blood when Darel and Rashim here decided to quit!"

"I guess it was that one student gala that did it, for both of us!" Darel laughs, and Rashim lets out a groan.

"Oh shit... don't even talk about that!" he says. "I mean, partnering with that one damn prima donna in the making - that's when I really decided that I've had enough!"

Suddenly Darel jumps up and curtseys in front of Rashim with a mischievous grin, and then the two proceed to give a merciless parody of a classical duet that leaves us all gasping for breath between hysterical fits of laughter. Ah, the demure bend of leading lady Darel's wrist... oh, the stern rigidity of his partner's posture... it's nasty, exaggerated, and absolutely hilarious.

"I'm afraid that the classical side people over here really are that bad." Rith is wiping her eyes, still hiccuping with mirth. "That's the impression I got from my brief meetings with them. But believe me, in other places it's possible to live side by side with them, and even be friends!"

"Here they really are like that," Meia agrees emphatically. "But hey, guys, I just realized that there's one big drawback in your house?"

"And that is?" Rashim tilts his head.

"There's no music! I'd like to dance, to real music!"

"Oh, but that's pretty easy to correct," Chaim puts in. "If I may suggest a refreshing short walk, not more than ten minutes?"

Like a tidal wave, enthusiasm sweeps over us all - not least because everybody wants to see the 'Albatross Nest' from the inside. We make quite a troupe as we trek over, carrying wine and cider bottles and bowls of snacks, and it's a marvelous display of equanimity with which Dalen and Tim welcome us at the door. They haven't been forewarned, but then, they don't need to be.

After a quick tour of the house everybody finds a comfortable place, not too far away from the grand piano. Chaim tosses off his jacket and rolls up his shirt sleeves, places his glass on top of the instrument and his large hands descend over the keys.

We're all irresistibly drawn to dance to the seductive rhythm of his music. It's been getting more and more mysterious and whimsical ever since I first heard it, that one night in the 'Black Cat', and I'm pretty sure we're hearing his own pieces, or then he's just taken a piece written by someone else and turned it into something new. They are Chaim, those pieces; deep and contemplative and lazy and sensuous and strong, melancholy and yet hopeful.

Rashim's hips sway under my hands, we're just a hair's breadth away from each other, and I open my eyes enough to glance at Chaim. I'm prepared to feel sorry for him because he and Kim cannot be dancing together... but then, why should I? Kim is sitting on a stool beside the piano and singing, his blue eyes never wavering from Chaim. Chaim's hands caress the keys, he's looking at Kim through his ashen bangs and smiling softly, and I understand that this is how they are together, just like I'm truly together with Rashim like this, dancing with him. So why feel sorry, when they are making love to each other through the music?

I squeeze Rashim tighter and he hums under his breath. Yes, baby, music is their thing and this is ours - dancing. I let one hand climb to Rashim's hair, my fingers play with the leather string that holds the ponytail in place and then they manage to pull it off. Rashim chuckles a little as the tresses tumble down, I nuzzle my face into them and breathe in the scent of blue reed. My head is spinning a little, I'm just enough drunk so that my every sense seems more acute than usual - the music, the feel of Rashim's body, the scent of his hair... I open my eyes to see the happy people around me, and then I blink.

I must be far more drunk than I thought, because I'm seeing things. How else would it be possible that I see Rith dancing with Thesh? Her back is towards me, but I see her wavy brown hair and the black ribbon that always ties it loosely back. I also see the boy's possessive hold around her tiny waist, and the way his head is tilted cheek to cheek with hers, his dark lashes lowered, boyish lips parted.

I blink again, but the sight refuses to disappear. And then I have to close my eyes, because the tip of Rashim's tongue begins to trace the contours of my ear.