First to Dance

by Sonya Writes

  The celebration was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. There was music playing, by many people with many instruments, and the sounds all blended together so perfectly. People were dancing: solo, with a partner, and some in groups. Even the children were dancing.

  Some of the men and women were standing outside the dance area, like herself, all watching the dancers. The pairs danced with such calculated perfection, and Ayita wondered how they knew when to spin and when to sway. A man wrapped his arms around a woman and dipped her almost to the floor before bringing her upright, and their dance continued. They moved together like water on earth. He guided her directions and she followed so smoothly, so pure. Ayita looked away and closed her eyes, blushing. She tried to envision herself dancing with Dakarai that way.

  The music changed periodically, from slow to fast and fast to slow, and the dancing that took place always matched the music. Everything flowed together with perfect harmony, and Ayita thought she could never fit in with that harmony. All those days of dancing through the woods to Dakarai’s song, all those nights of dancing alone in her room, and none of them compared to what she saw now in the people of this community. They were connected to each other by a bond that was foreign to Ayita.

  “I should be out there,” she quietly said to herself.

  “Then why aren’t you?”

  It was Ziyad. She looked at him and smiled. “I can’t dance like that.”

  “Sure you can.”

  Suddenly the music went quiet and a slow tune started. There were only three musicians playing for this song, and they all played an instrument like the one Dakarai played.

  Ziyad spoke again. “It doesn’t matter how you dance,” he said. “What’s important is that you do.”

  Ayita nodded. “You’re right,” she said, and she walked out onto the dance floor, oblivious to Ziyad’s hand held out for her in invitation. He let his hand fall to his side and watched.

  Ayita started with a simple twirl: the one she did in her bedroom. She closed her eyes and tried it again and again. She didn’t fall once. Then she opened her eyes and danced across the floor, but it was as if her eyes were closed. She didn’t see the people of Adonia here. She saw Zozeis. She was dancing in the street on Zozeis and everyone was watching, but they wouldn’t say a word. She turned the street into a dance floor and she was the first to dance. For a while the people didn’t know what to do, but then one by one, they joined her. Soon everyone she knew was dancing. Her father. Her mother. Kara and Kris, with Sophie in their arms. Aira. Acton. Even the three men who came to take her away. Everyone was dancing, and no one was afraid.

  Ayita didn’t notice until the song was over that she had tears in her eyes. She ran away from the area, toward the table-top tree where she slept. Ayita didn’t go the entire distance, but half of it, and she stopped to kneel on the ground. She closed her eyes and listened as her mind raced through a million thoughts.

  When she opened her eyes, she saw Dakarai walking toward her; he was just now coming in from the forest. She watched briefly as he approached, then stood and walked to meet him.

  “What are you doing all the way out here?” he asked.

  “Thinking,” she said.

  He smiled. “I thought for sure I would find you on the dance floor,” he said. “I made this for you.” Dakarai held out a small wooden turtle hanging from a string. When she didn’t immediately take it, he placed it in her hand.

  “A turtle,” she said.

  “Not just a turtle. It’s a box, too.”

  Ayita ran her fingers over it until she felt the crease, and the top of the shell came off. Inside were two small seeds.

  “One from your tree, and one from mine,” he explained. “In the spring, I thought, maybe we could plant them together, side by side, somewhere that we’d both like to live.”

  “Thank you,” Ayita whispered. She didn’t know what else to say. Then she realized that accepting this gift was like accepting a proposal. But he didn’t directly ask the question, and she didn’t directly give him an answer. She closed the box with the seeds inside.

  “You remembered,” she said.

  “What?”

  “The turtle.”

  “Oh.” He looked ashamed. “No, I made this a long time ago for you. I had it in my box with a note that I should give it to you today at the celebration. Apparently I made it after you drew a picture in the dirt.”

  Ayita smiled. “That’s okay,” she said. “Maybe you didn’t remember, but you still cared.” Their eyes locked.

  “Here,” he said. He took the two ends of the string and tied it around her neck.

  A new song started, and to this one there was a woman singing. Her voice carried over the empty land and into their ears. Ayita had never heard anyone sing before. It was beautiful. She was singing about love.

  “Do you want to dance?” Dakarai asked. He held his hand out to her.

  “I’ve never danced with anyone else before,” she said.

  “Now’s your chance.” Dakarai smiled

  “How do we….”

  “Don’t ask. Do.”

  They both laughed.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you. First, take my hand,” he told her. “All right, now put your other hand on my shoulder, and my other hand goes around your waist, like this. Now just follow my lead.”

  They slowly moved around in a circle, and for a while Ayita was staring into Dakarai’s eyes, but then she moved closer to him and rested her head against his shoulder. She thought about the way his hand felt in the small of her back and listened to his rhythmic breathing. His body swayed as they danced, and hers along with it. Ayita closed her eyes, listening to him and the music, and she wondered why this never happened at home. It’s a wonder people connect at all, she thought. They have nothing like this. She was unsure why, but she could feel tears coming to her eyes again. She did not allow them to fall down her face, but she knew they were there.

  The song ended, but for a number of seconds Ayita wouldn’t let go. When she did, she stepped back and looked up again into his eyes.

  “You are a very fine dancer, Dakarai.”

  Suddenly she felt scared. Scared because of his gift and what it meant. Scared because of how much he meant to her. And scared, most of all, that whether she told him yes or no to his proposal, he wouldn’t remember any of it in the morning.

  She took a step back, and turned to walk away.

  “Ayita, wait.” He loosely held onto her hand, but didn’t squeeze or pull. “Where are you going?”

  “I just…I…I…” Love you, she thought. And that scares me. She looked down, and away, then back up at him.

  Ayita reached up and placed her fingertips along the back of his neck. She stood on her toes and leaned forward until her face was a hair’s width from his. When she closed her eyes, their lips touched and she could feel him returning the kiss.

  “I love you,” she said. She brought her hand to the turtle hanging from her neck. “And I would love to plant these two seeds with you next spring.”

  They danced again, several times that night, and then he walked her home to the only other table-top tree set apart from the rest. He kissed her goodnight and walked away. But when he was gone, Ayita cried, because she knew he wouldn’t remember any of it.

  Ayita woke up the next morning, happy but sad. So much happened the night before, but only she would know. Only she would remember. He would see the wooden turtle around her neck each day, and it would hold no significance to him. No one got married on Adonia. They didn’t spend their lives together. They spent a night together and then everyone raised the child. Only a handful of people showed any interest at all in having a single lifetime partner, and even they were too forgetful to make it work.

  But maybe it would be different with Dakarai. Like Panya said, he didn’t remember with his mind, he remembered with his heart. On the surface, that made him look far more forgetful than anyone else, but deep down his heart remembered w
hat was important. Maybe he’s wrong, Ayita thought. Maybe he doesn’t have the worst memory here. He might actually have the best.

  She held the turtle out in front of her and looked at it fondly, turning it over to absorb every facet. It meant something to him when he made it, and it meant something to him when he gave it to her. But would it still mean something to him today? Would it mean anything to him in the spring? The only way to find out was to be there with him, and to keep her half of the promise.

  Summer was over, now. There were a few weeks left before they would all journey to the winter dwellings, and then the cold air would come. The air was still warm now for the most part. As she walked through the forest she listened for but heard no music, only the distant sound of the waterfall.

  “Good morning, Dakarai,” she said as she approached him. He was sitting beside the lake, and instead of him looking at her with mild confusion and needing to be reminded of her name, he simply looked up at her, smiled, and said “Oh, hello Ayita.”

  She stopped in her tracks. “You remember my name,” she said. Butterflies filled her stomach and her face lit up. “You remember my name!”

  His eyebrows scrunched together for a moment as he thought. “Hmm,” he said. “I guess I do.” He smiled brightly.

  Her smile grew and she wrapped her arms around him. He remembered something more than a feeling. He actually remembered her name. She wanted to leap for joy, but she would have felt silly doing that because he didn’t seem nearly as excited. He was acting nonchalant, like it was no big deal. But she didn’t let this pull her down. He was starting to remember her. Her enthusiasm shone through everything she did that day, and she stayed all day with him. They talked, they swam, they ate, and that evening Ayita left with the same smile still on her face from that morning.

  When she got home, Ziyad was there waiting for her at the base of the tree, and her enthusiasm evaporated.

  “The kids missed you today,” he said. “But they did great. I switched around the race on them. Gave them seven things to do in an order they haven’t tried yet, and every one of them got it right the first time through. They all did it. Remembered seven steps. Better than you remembered today. You weren’t even there.”

  “I’m sorry Ziyad. I was with Dakarai. I got distracted and lost track of time.” Then she smiled wistfully. “He remembered my name today.”

  “As long as you know what’s important.”

  She frowned. “It’s all important, Ziyad. The kids. You. Dakarai. Panya. Everyone. You’re all important to me. I’m glad to hear they did so well today. That’s exciting.” She didn’t sound excited. She was disappointed with herself, and also with Ziyad’s demeanor.

  “If we’re important, don’t bail out on us. One man in the forest remembered your name today, but out here a man and eighteen kids have remembered your name for weeks. So Dakarai remembered your name. That’s great. Eighteen kids remembered seven new instructions today and followed them in the correct order. That’s beyond amazing, and you weren’t there to see it. I wish you could’ve seen their eyes, seen their faces. They wanted you there, Ayita. They were pleased with themselves, but they missed you. They wanted you to see them succeed.”

  “I’m sorry Ziyad. I’ll be there tomorrow. I promise.”

  “Don’t apologize to me,” he said. “You need to apologize to those kids. I can run the games on my own, but it’s your approval they look for, not mine. They need you to be there.”

  Ayita nodded. The men and women of the community were like family to the children, but Ayita was teacher. She stood out because of her different background and her excellent memory, and the children usually noticed it more readily than the adults did. They knew that if they shared their joy with their family, it would be forgotten, but if they shared their joy with Ayita, it would always be remembered.

  After that, Ayita never missed another afternoon with the children, and she continued to visit Dakarai every morning and evening. On most days he could remember her name now, though he still forgot how they met and where she came from. Weeks passed. Dakarai talked Ayita into the lake on a regular basis, and it wasn’t long before she was confidently swimming underwater with him.

  The leaves were starting to brown and some had fallen already, when the whole community started to pack everything up. The table-top trees were the last to lose their leaves, and the day that one dropped to the ground was they day they prepared for their journey. They brought out large carts which had spent the summer behind the garden and were filled to the brim now with dried fruits and vegetables. Empty carts were being filled up with the fruit still on the trees, and people were putting their personal belongings in cloth sacks that they kept in their wooden chests. Panya explained that they all left their summer clothes here for the winter, and left their winter clothes there for the summer, but everyone had a favorite item or two which they wanted to take with them. After listening to Panya explain their customs and helping her in the small ways she could, Ayita decided to go check on Dakarai and make sure he was aware that the move was taking place.

  Because of the few leaves already fallen, Dakarai didn’t need Ayita’s reminder and he was all ready to go before she arrived. “Let’s go for one last swim,” he suggested.

  Ayita smiled, but shook her head. “If you’re good here, then we should go help everyone else. They still have a lot to do, it seems.”

  “Like what?”

  “Food. Water supplies. We won’t be back here again for months.”

  “Oh. That didn’t occur to me.” He looked at the lake. “We won’t be able to go swimming again until spring.”

  “I know, but I wouldn’t feel right about having fun while they’re all scurrying to get everything ready.”

  “Will two more people really make a difference?”

  “Does it matter?”

  His eyes rolled back in his head. “All right. We can go help out.”

  Ayita walked with him to the gardens, where nearly everyone was helping to finish the harvest. There were rows and rows of trees growing varied fruits, and rows of fruit and vegetable plants. Ayita found a basket no one was using and started filling it from one of the fruit trees. She and Dakarai picked everything they could reach, and when they couldn’t reach anymore Ayita sat up on Dakarai’s shoulders, stretching her arms as far as she could. When their basket was full, she got down and let him carry it back while she started on another tree with another basket.

  Ayita continued filling the basket until there was nothing left in her reach, and then she started wondering why Dakarai wasn’t back yet. She got her answer when Ziyad walked up behind her and patted her on the back.

  “I’m surprised,” Ziyad told her. “You actually got him to come out here and help everyone else with the move.”

  Ayita smiled, nodding. “He forgot he was supposed to be helping me, didn’t he?”

  “That’s one way to look at it, but at least he’s helping.” Ziyad smirked. “Here, I can help you.” He started picking the fruit Ayita couldn’t reach. Their friendship had improved since earlier in the fall when she neglected to help him with the children. They shared many good moments together watching the kids grow and learn. At first the kids raced for the fun of it, but now even they saw the fruits of their labor. They were remembering names without needing any reminder, and remembering various things they experienced days or weeks before. It was exciting to everyone who noticed it, and especially to Ayita.

  Ziyad and Ayita worked as a team filling baskets and carrying them to the carts. The harvest was larger than usual this year, and when everything was done it was late in the day. Ayita and Ziyad walked over to where everyone else was standing; it wasn’t long before Dakarai was beside her again. Everyone was tired, and after some discussion they all agreed to stay another night and leave first thing in the morning.

  Ayita turned to Dakarai and smiled. “That means we can still go swimming,” she said.

  “I’m tired.”

&nbs
p; Ayita tapped his shoulder. “Come on. You said you wanted one last swim; let’s do it.”

  Ziyad watched as they walked away together, and for a second he considered following them to take a swim himself, but instead he walked out away from where everyone else was and sat alone. He had a good view of where Ayita and Dakarai were headed, and also of the tree beneath which she slept.

  Ziyad was jealous of Dakarai because he knew Ayita loved him. Yet every day it was he that she worked with, as a team, helping the children learn to remember. It sounded crazy to him at first, but it was actually working, and Ziyad admired Ayita very much for believing in them from the start. But she believed in Dakarai, too, and that was a problem. As long as she believed in Dakarai, Ziyad knew he didn’t have a chance of winning her heart. At first Ziyad thought it was only a matter of time before Ayita would give up on Dakarai and see that he was the logical choice, the one who had an at least semi-decent memory already, but now Dakarai could actually remember her name. Ayita was working miracles with him, but Ziyad wondered how deep those miracles actually went. Surely, he thought, the miracles weren’t strong enough to survive the winter.

  Dakarai and Ayita were about to enter the forest when Ayita stopped walking.

  “Is something wrong?” Dakarai asked her.

  Ayita took a deep breath and turned to look at the other lake, the one she crashed into in her spaceship. That was where she started her first summer here on Adonia, and it felt like an appropriate place to end it. She wanted to prove to herself that this lake was nothing more than a body of water. It held no power over her, except for the power she gave it. It was time to take that power back.

  “I want to swim here,” she said.

  Dakarai shrugged his shoulders. “Okay,” he said. It made no difference to him which lake they swam in. He only planned to go to the other lake out of habit.

  They walked down the beach together and came to the water. Ayita watched where the water met the sand, and remembered cautiously and fearfully putting her face into the water with Dakarai’s encouragement. She smiled slightly, then walked away from the beach.