First to Dance

by Sonya Writes

  “I can't lose you, Ayita. You're all I've got. My parents ignore me, and I don't have other friends. I’m so afraid to lose you.”

  A part of Ayita wanted to give her the cold shoulder. She wanted to tell her to make other friends, but there was a tenderness in Aira's words that told her she really did care, in her own unusual way.

  “If you care,” Ayita said, “accept me as I am.”

  “I do,” said Aira. “At least, I think I do. But no one else will.”

  “That doesn't matter to me. I’m OK with not being accepted. But if you want to be my friend, you have to. You have to accept me, even if I believe the opposite of what you believe.”

  “Ayita, you’re my best friend. It’s been really scary for me to see all these sudden changes in you.”

  “They aren’t so sudden. I’ve always been a little bit different, and I think you know that. In fact, I think everyone here is a lot more different from each other than they like to believe. We’re all different, but we force ourselves to be the same. Finding that book helped me learn a lot about myself.” She paused. “Aira, do you realize that you and I are probably the only people on this planet who know about Earth?”

  Aira nodded.

  “Being my friend is going to get harder, before it gets easier. If it gets easier.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way,” Aira said. “You can choose to blend in.”

  “I would never be satisfied if I chose that path.” Ayita felt a strength growing up inside her. The more she spoke about this topic, the better she felt. It was good to speak the truth and be unafraid.

  Aira sighed. Her lip was trembling and her eyes starting to water. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to be your friend,” she admitted.

  Ayita touched Aira’s shoulder and looked into her eyes. “Our culture tells us to silently follow the crowd,” she said. “If you need to reject me in front of everyone, in order to go on living in peace, I will understand. Just promise that you don’t reject me in your heart.”

  Aira knew that if she said anything, she would cry, so she only looked at Ayita and nodded. Then she pulled her in for a tight hug and closed her eyes. A couple of tears fell from her eyes, and after a deep breath, she stepped back and tried to smile. Ayita smiled at her, too. We’re okay, she thought. We’re going to be okay.

  They stood and looked at each other in silence for a while. Then Aira turned to walk home. As Ayita opened the door to go inside, Aira stopped and said, “Ayita?”

  “Yes?”

  “I liked your painting.”

  Ayita smiled. “Thank you.”

  Aira nodded, then continued her walk home.

  Ayita watched her walk away. Then, as she stepped inside and was about to close the door behind her, she heard her name again. It was Acton.

  She stepped outside. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said.

  “You don’t even know me,” she reminded him.

  “I know you’re different. Maybe you didn’t like me kissing you, but there’s still something different about you, and I want to know what it is.”

  “Why does it matter?” she asked.

  “Because I feel alone,” he said. “I want to know that I’m not alone. I feel so out of place because I’m always longing to be touched. I don’t think anyone’s intentionally touched me since I was little and my mom would tuck me into bed.” He sighed. “I just thought that maybe if you’re different, and I’m different, even if we’re different in different ways…maybe we could be different together.” He looked down at the ground and dug the toe of his shoe into the dirt. His eyes looked sad. It reminded her of the look on Sophie’s face when no one would comfort her.

  She sighed, too. “You know we don’t get to choose who we marry, even if we did decide we wanted to be together.”

  “We could be together anyway.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not okay with that.”

  “We could try to arrange our own marriage,” he said. “It’s based on our success in class. If we both dropped out of class on the same day, chances are….”

  “You’re talking about marrying me, and you’ve only just met me. Sure we see each other in class each day, but we’ve never talked before now.”

  “And chances are that I’ll have never talked at all to the woman I am paired with.”

  She didn’t know what to say. He was right. And, possibly, she thought, her only chance at an understanding husband.

  “Please tell me how you’re different,” he said. “I want to know. Even if all we ever are is friends.”

  She didn’t say anything. She breathed deeply and thought. Could she tell him?

  “Let’s start small,” she said. “Let’s each come up with something little about ourselves that we can share, and go from there. We can think about it tonight and tell each other tomorrow after class.”

  “Okay,” he said. Then he smiled. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Ayita.” He had a big, goofy grin. Ayita couldn’t help but smile at him in response. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, then he nodded his head and turned to walk home.

  4

  The silence at dinner was torture. Her father didn’t say a word to her the entire evening, not even to ask how many sections it took her today. Ayita would have preferred his disappointment in hearing the word “two” over being ignored, but it didn’t happen. Ayita slowly chewed her food and watched him through the corner of her eye. He wouldn’t even look at her. Her mother, clueless as she was, didn’t notice the cold in the air between them. She didn’t know about the lie; now her father was keeping secrets too.

  When Ayita finished eating she excused herself to her bedroom. As she ascended the stairs, the phone rang, which was highly unusual. The phone almost never rang. Ayita stopped to listen, and sat down at the top of the steps. They couldn’t see her, but she could hear everything they said.

  “Hello?” Taya answered the phone. “She did what?” Taya turned to look at her husband. “Oh. Wow. Are you sure it was Ayita? Okay. No, she didn’t say anything about it. No. All right. Well, thank you for calling.”

  “Who was that?”

  “Ayita skipped out of her first section today,” she said.

  “She did what?” His voice got louder. He sounded angry.

  “Ayita got up during her first section and left. They don’t know where she went. She came back later and took the second section.”

  Everything was quiet for a while. There was the sound of a chair sliding across the hardwood floor as Taya sat down at the table again. Neither of them said anything, until her mother started sobbing.

  “I’m so worried about her,” she said. “She’s changing so much. Ever since Aira told us about that book, I’ve been worried.”

  Her father didn’t respond. Ayita wondered how long he would keep her secret.

  “I think we should get her some help.”

  “No,” her father said. “Absolutely not.”

  “But--”

  “No buts. We are not sending her there.”

  “What if she starts lying to us?”

  Both his fists hit the table and he stood up, his chair thudding along the floor behind him. Ayita tensed at the sound, ready to flee to her room if she had to, but he wasn’t approaching the stairs. After taking a moment to compose himself, he picked up his plate off the table and dropped it in the sink.

  “There’s nothing wrong with her,” he said. “She will be fine.” He stood there at the sink and closed his eyes. Taya walked up beside him and gave him a hug.

  “We need to consider it,” she said. “If things get worse…”

  “That place will not make her better,” he told her.

  “It would,” Taya said. “When she returns…she’d be our daughter again.”

  “She’s our daughter now.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He let out a heavy sigh. “Ayita is intellige
nt,” he said. “She has a bright future ahead of her. So she’s a little…rebellious, right now. For that you would ruin her future?”

  “It would help her future.”

  “She’ll have no credibility!”

  “If we don’t intervene, she’ll ruin her future on her own! What if she starts telling other people about this Earth idea? It would be better that she go away for a while and lose a little credibility, than to remain here and lose everything.”

  He sighed again. “If it gets worse…” he started to say. “No, I refuse to consider it.” More dishes clanged in the sink and the water turned on.

  Ayita crept to her room and silently shut the door. She sat on her bed just staring at the wall. She wanted so much to make them proud, and yet she knew that they would only be pleased with her if she pretended to be someone else. She wanted to cry. She thought about Acton and his longing to be touched by someone, anyone. The kiss was inappropriate, she thought, but she shared the same longing. She needed to be hugged more often. She wondered if it would be easier to cry if she had someone to hold her and tell her that it was okay to feel.

  A knock came at the door.

  “Ayita,” her father said.

  “Yes, father?”

  The door didn’t open. “Your mother and I would like to speak with you downstairs,” he said. A few seconds later she could hear him walking down the steps. Ayita took a deep breath and hopped off her bed to follow him.

  When she arrived downstairs, her parents were both sitting on the couch waiting for her. Her father looked nervous and undecided. He was leaning forward and staring at the floor. Her mother, on the other hand, was sitting very upright with her hands in her lap, and looking directly at Ayita's face, though not at her eyes. Did he tell her I lied? Ayita sat down and said nothing.

  “Ayita, do you believe in Earth?”

  Her father turned to look at her now, waiting for her answer to Taya's question. It was the first time he made eye contact with her since she admitted to lying. He wondered if she was going to lie again.

  “Yes,” she said. “I believe Earth exists.”

  Her mother's face turned a little rosy, and she had a hard time keeping her composure. She took a deep breath through her nose and interlocked her fingers together to prevent herself from compulsively tapping on her legs. Her carefully controlled emotions were steadily being unwound, and rather than loosening up, her body reacted by becoming more and more tense. Ayita knew it was only a matter of time before her mother had some sort of mental break-down, and she felt a little bit guilty that her beliefs and actions would be the catalyst.

  “Ayita,” her mom said. “Ayita.” Then she started to cry. She couldn’t say anything else. Finally, she turned to her husband. “What do we do?” she asked.

  Her father still had a blank look on his face and was again staring at the floor. He appeared to be unaffected by any of this, but Ayita knew better. She knew he was hurting, though more and more she felt that she didn’t understand him at all.

  “We do nothing,” he said.

  “What do you mean we do nothing?” Taya sounded panicked.

  “I mean we do nothing.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them it was clear he was holding back tears. He continued looking at the floor. “Ayita, your future is in your hands. You’re old enough now that your conduct is your responsibility. I’m not going to ask you to change what you believe in, but I will tell you that if you’re found guilty, I can’t save you. I don’t want to lose you; I’m not going to be the one to send you away.” He looked in her eyes, now. “You have two paths to choose from. Remember that. There are two paths to keeping your freedom. Make your decision and stand by it.” At this, he stood and left the room. Taya, still sobbing, watched him ascend the stairs and then followed him. Ayita didn’t move. She sat and thought about what he said.

  Two paths to freedom. What did he mean by that? The only path Ayita saw was to silently conform, and that wasn’t freedom at all. What was the other one? She’d known this whole time where her actions would lead her if they continued, and if she were accused and convicted, but oddly that fear wasn’t enough to motivate her anymore. She was more afraid of living in silence and letting her whole life become a lie. Deep down, she held on to the hope that her life might mean something, that her ideas might positively change the world. Maybe she could break the ice that held everyone back from admitting they weren’t all the same. Maybe she could teach them all to dance. Maybe that was the second path.

  Acton, as usual, needed to take the second section. Ayita looked forward to their conversation. She planned to draw a quick picture in the dirt for him, perhaps of a person or a tree or a house. Then once she showed him what drawing was, she could erase the picture, and he could tell her something else that was different about him. But he would be in class for another two and a half hours at least, so their conversation would have to wait.

  In the meantime, Ayita thought she would read more of Etana’s letters, but when she was halfway home she felt pulled to walk in another direction.

  The place she came to was a tall, dark house. Not a scary dark, but a lonely dark, which in its own way was a little frightening. People whispered about this house, but they would never say the names of the ones who lived there. Ayita knocked on the door.

  “Who's there?” a voice called. It sounded familiar. The door opened. Kara? “Ayita? What are you doing here?”

  “I'm sorry,” she said. “I thought this was…I mean…I didn't know this is where you lived. I must have the wrong address.”

  “No,” Kara said. “Come in. This is the right place.”

  Ayita stepped inside the narrow doorway and Kara quietly shut the door behind her.

  “Sophie is asleep,” she said softly. “So keep your voice low, please.” Kara was elegant in the way she walked, and she took a seat in a large sofa next to an oval table in the center of the room. “I presume you are here to ask about the secondary school,” she said.

  It was indeed the reason Ayita had come, but it shocked her to hear Kara bring it up. “You mean,” she said, “You've been there before?” Ayita knew the rumors; she knew this was the house, but she never would have guessed her aunt Kara was the one who lived here.

  Kara nodded. “Nine years ago,” she said, “I had a daughter.” She was sitting straight up, with her head, neck and shoulders aligned, but her eyes weren't looking straight ahead the way they normally would. Her eyes were on her knees, and her hands rested together in her lap. “Her name was Jacqueline.”

  Ayita sat straighter, both to match her aunt's posture and because she was intrigued. “I thought Sophie was your first child,” she said.

  Kara shook her head, pouting her lips and furrowing her brow. She did her best never to think of Jacqueline, but there was no way to ever forget that sweet, innocent face. “They took her from me,” she said. Ayita wasn't sure how to respond now that Kara was crying. Would putting a hand on her shoulder be appropriate? Apologizing for her pain? A hug? Kara composed herself and continued, “They took her from me, and then they sent me away for an entire year.” She wiped her eyes and grabbed a tissue to blow her nose. “All because I wanted to hold her every time she cried.” Kara’s posture had dropped now. She no longer appeared elegant, but broken. Her shoulders were low and she was leaning far forward, with her head hanging down. “I wanted to comfort her. I wanted her to know I would always be there for her when she needed me,” she said. “Now she does not get to have me at all. They changed her name to Jenna, and I am never allowed to speak to her again.” She sighed. “Occasionally I catch a glimpse of her walking home from class, but I am forbidden from ever telling her who I am.”

  Sophie started crying from her bedroom. Kara sat up straight again and a hardness came over her face. Ayita waited thirty seconds and asked, “Aren't you going to go get her?”

  “Her nap does not end for fifteen more minutes,” Kara replied. She wiped her face dry and put her ha
nds in her lap.

  “Go get her!” Ayita demanded. “Or I will.” She started to get up, but Kara grabbed her arm to stop her. “This is foolish,” Ayita said. “She needs your comfort just as much as Jacqueline did.”

  “They'll take her away.”

  “Not if they never know.” Sophie stopped crying, for which Ayita was glad. She waited a moment, then let out a sigh and relaxed in her seat.

  “They would find out,” Kara told her. “They watch the kids at class for signs that they’ve been ‘spoiled’, as they like to call it. Because of my history, they’ll watch Sophie extra carefully to see if she’s adjusted to being ignored or not. They make visits to my home to check on us. The last thing I want is for Sophie to be raised as a Susan, and to never see her again. They would make me infertile for doing it twice. I would never have a child, then.”

  “What is the point of having a child that you don't take care of?” Ayita asked. She regretted it as soon as she saw the hurt in Kara’s face. She didn't mean to offend; she was only seeking to understand. “I'm sorry,” she said. “Will you please tell me what it was like there?”

  “It's like class,” she said. “Only the tests are verbal, and they have machines that tell them if you lie. If you don't fully believe every word you say, you have to re-do the section. They make you repeat it over and over until you fully believe every word you tell them. If you never believe it, you never leave.” Kara sighed. “Many of the people I met there, they will never leave. They were good people,” she said, “strong in their convictions.”

  “How did you get out?” Ayita asked.

  Kara looked surprised. “What do you mean?” she said.

  “It is obvious your beliefs haven’t changed.”

  A mischievous smile spread across Kara’s face. “I learned to become a really good liar,” she said, in a cavalier way. “I suppose there are two ways to get out of that place. You can either betray what you know, and come to believe their lies, or you must sear your conscience and become as they are.”