Hold Her Down

by Kathryn R. Biel

  Shit. What was she going to do? She had mentally prepared herself to stay strong against Peter's advances. She had never even considered how she would handle Jack's. She had to get away and think, if even just for a moment. Even out of the ballroom, the din created by the crowds talking over the band was deafening. Without even stopping for her cape, Elizabeth headed outside. Downing the two drinks in such quick succession had been a mistake. She stepped out into the brisk February night, hoping the fresh air would clear her head.

  As she reached the end of the portico, her foot kicked something. She looked down and saw it was a pack of cigarettes. She squatted and picked up the half-full pack, noting the lighter slid inside the cellophane. Someone had obviously dropped this. She teetered a bit as she stood up, unsure if it was due to the alcohol or the heels. Perhaps a combination of both. The coldness was seeping into her skin again, so she strode as hastily as a gown and stilettos would allow across the parking lot to her car.

  Elizabeth retrieved the key from her purse and unlocked her van. She got in quickly, and closed the door. She tried to rest her head back against the headrest, but her hair-do prevented it. Not wanting to muss it, she leaned forward, draping her arms over the steering wheel while resting her forehead on it. After a moment, she became aware that she was still clutching the pack of cigarettes. She looked at it, as if it were a foreign body. Elizabeth had never really been a smoker, only smoking when she was out drinking. Every so often, way-back when, she actually desired to smoke. Mostly, she used bumming cigarettes off a guy as a way to strike up conversation. She had not smoked since senior year of college, when her grandmother died of lung cancer. She was dating Peter by then and no longer had any real need to strike up random conversations in bars.

  Without even thinking, Elizabeth pulled a cigarette out of the pack and took a long drag. She felt it burning in her chest, but didn't care. She suppressed a cough. She let the cigarette hang out of her mouth for a moment while she inserted her key in the ignition to roll down the window a bit. As she sat there smoking, she stared at herself in the driver's side mirror, wondering what the hell she was doing with her life. Did she really have the choice of two men right now? She wasn't so sure. Jack appeared to make his intentions known. Peter had not. Did she want Jack? Did she want Peter? She was so confused. She didn't know what she wanted.

  She tried to clear her head to think, but it was fuzzy from the alcohol. Christ, she was such a lightweight. Elizabeth took drag after drag on the cigarette while her mind raced. Being with Peter would be comfortable and easy. It would make the kids happy. However, she wasn't sure that comfort was the same as happiness. Being with Jack would be hard. There was certain to be scandal. It would hurt Peter. Therefore, it might hurt the kids as well. She could see the relationship being tumultuous. But with all that tumult, she saw incredible passion. That had certainly been lacking in her life thus far.

  But could passion last? Was it like getting a tattoo? It looked good at the time, and for the next few years was pretty attractive, and even sexy. But sooner or later, everyone's skin sags and you are just a ridiculous old person with an ugly tattoo. Was Jack, and the promises that he brought, worth hurting Peter and the children?

  Elizabeth finished that cigarette and lit another one. She still didn't have any answers. Smoking soothed her and, except for the burning in her chest, she could see why people liked it. She stared at her own eyes, looking for answers. She wanted to be able to go back inside and tell Peter she wanted to get back together. To have their family reunited. She wanted the passion and the promise that Jack instilled. She wanted, for once, to have the answers.

  CHAPTER THIRTY: February 16, 2013

  As Elizabeth entered the ballroom for the second time that evening, she felt a calm wash over her. She had no more answers than she had when she left the room. And although she felt like she needed to figure out what she was doing with her life, she had come to the realization that her needs were not always met. At least not in a timely manner. Her needs ... What were they even?

  Elizabeth needed to be confident in herself. She needed to provide a home and loving environment for her children. She needed to instill a sense of self-worth in not only Teddy and Sydney, but in herself as well. Peter had met those needs in only the most basic, materialistic sense. While being with Peter would make them a family of four, it would be in number only; never in heart or soul. It pained Elizabeth to realize this. She did not want to say that marrying Peter had been a mistake, although she knew, deep down, it was. It was a mistake that she could never let herself regret, however, because it brought her Teddy and Sydney. There would be many more evenings for Monday-morning quarterbacking. Tonight did not have to be one of them.

  As Elizabeth crossed the floor, she found Peter with his co-workers and colleagues. They were still engaged in conversation. They had settled by one of the high tables, and plates showing evidence of hors d'oeuvres littered the table. Peter himself was sitting on a stool, facing out away from the table as some of his colleagues stood around. Elizabeth had been gone for at least thirty minutes. Maybe more like forty-five. His eyes were on the people next to him, obviously participating in the discussion. He was not looking around the room, searching for Elizabeth. He was not wondering where she had disappeared to. He did not notice she was gone.

  Elizabeth walked up to Peter and took his face in both her hands. She gave him a light kiss on the lips.

  "I wish it could be you."

  "But it's not," he said, without hurt. Simply matter-of-factly.

  She released his face and dropped her hands to her side. They held each other's gaze for a moment, before Elizabeth turned away. The room, the decorations, the music, the people that had all faded into the background suddenly became focused. She noticed that there were now couples out on the dance floor. She was trying to place the music, when the song ended, and another began. As she listened to the light melody of the horns, Jack appeared and stuck out his hand. "May I have this dance?"

  Elizabeth looked to Peter, who just shrugged in indifference. She accepted Jack's hand as he led her out onto the floor, just as the bandleader, who sounded so much like Sinatra, started crooning about "The Way You Look Tonight."

  "I couldn't let this song go by without acknowledging you," Jack said, as he moved Elizabeth deftly in a fox trot step around the floor.

  Elizabeth looked up and wrinkled her brow slightly, "How did you get over to me just as the song was starting then?"

  Jack laughed. "Because I requested it. For you."

  Elizabeth didn't have time to frown again, as Jack changed up the step and spun Elizabeth out and then in, holding her firmly. She had to focus on where her feet were going, where he was leading her. She had forgotten how much fun dancing could be. Gliding across the floor, held expertly, led confidently, Elizabeth felt more alive than she had in years.

  "I knew this would put a smile on your face."

  Elizabeth tried to frown, but couldn't. She was having too much fun. As the song wound down, Jack again spun her out and in, her red dress flowing and swirling elegantly. He pulled her back in and lowered her in a dip, never once making her feel like she might fall. By the time he straightened her back up, she was breathless. They were also the center of attention.

  Elizabeth started to walk off the floor when someone else tapped her on the shoulder. "May I?" the gentleman asked, gesturing towards the floor. Elizabeth shrugged and smiled slightly, and let herself be led back onto the floor. Her new partner was a very dashing and an obviously gay man. He was also a terrific dancer.

  "Why did you ask me to dance?"

  He smiled at her. "I noticed you when you first came in. That dress is stunning, darling. You were with that stick in the mud over there. Then, I saw you out on the dance floor and realized that you can really move. My partner ..." he nodded his head to a short, squat man in a plaid tuxedo, "can't dance to save his life. I thought I would have to spend all night in the corner in frustration. Then I sa
w you, an angel in red."

  Elizabeth laughed. "Don't you mean devil?"

  "No, sweetie. The way you move, it's like an angel."

  Almost as if on cue, Elizabeth missed a step and stumbled lightly. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm afraid I'm a bit rusty."

  "Rusty. Interesting name. I'm Powell."

  Elizabeth laughed again. "No, my name is not rusty, my dancing is. My name is Elizabeth. But you can call me Liza."

  "Liza, are you a dancer?"

  "I was in a previous life. I was very involved in theater."

  "What a coincidence, so am I!" Powell smiled exuberantly.

  "Are you still involved in it?"

  "Why yes, darling. James," he nodded again to his partner, "and I run the Stengold Theater. Have you ever been there?"

  She shook her head apologetically. "I'm afraid not. My soon-to-be-ex-husband," now it was Elizabeth's turn to gesture with her head, "was not a fan of the theater. I could never get him to go, no matter how much it meant to me."

  "Not to pry, but is that handsome tidbit you were just dancing with the reason stick-in-the-mud over there is your soon-to-be-ex?"

  "Yes. No. Not really. Maybe?"

  "Oh, well, that's clear as mud. This song's ending. Got it in you for one more?"

  Elizabeth laughed. She had not had this much fun in ages. She truly felt like she didn't have a care in the world. She was in the middle of the floor, dancing, and she was loving it. It felt like being back on stage. As the music shifted into a swing number, Elizabeth had to focus more on the dancing and less on the conversation. Powell was a very strong dancer and led Elizabeth well. She hadn't been swing dancing since probably 1998. By the end of the song, Elizabeth was laughing and gasping for breath. Powell started to lead her off the floor. Peter was still over at his table, talking with his co-workers. Jack was off to the right. He was watching Elizabeth with an intent gaze.

  Powell, ever astute, looked to his right and then to his left. Then he looked at Elizabeth. "Where do you want to go?'

  Where do you want to go? Elizabeth also looked at Peter to her left and Jack to her right. This was it. This was her pivotal moment. This is where she made the choice. And without even trying, without even thinking about it, the choice was crystal clear.

  "Powell, I want you to introduce me to James. I want to hear all about your theater. And then, I want to tell you about this great idea I have for a play that I just happen to have written. Like my dancing, it may be a little rusty."

  "Honey, if it is anything like your dancing, we'd be fools not to snatch it right up."

  Powell walked her forward toward his partner, and Elizabeth smiled. No, she beamed. She didn't have to choose between Peter and Jack. All she had to do was choose herself. She could do this. She could be on her own and make herself happy. She could live her life, focus on her children and her interests. She could do this. She would do this.

  And Elizabeth knew, from that point on, no matter what, nothing would ever hold her down again.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Kathryn Biel hails from Upstate New York and is a spouse and mother of two wonderful and energetic kids. In between being Chief Home Officer and Director of Child Development of the Biel household, she works as a school-based physical therapist. She attended Boston University and received her Doctorate in Physical Therapy from The Sage Colleges. After years of writing countless letters of medical necessity for wheelchairs, finding increasingly creative ways to encourage the government and insurance companies to fund her clients' needs and writing entertaining annual Christmas letters, she decided to take a shot at writing the kind of novel that she likes to read. Her debut novel, GOOD INTENTIONS, was released in 2013. Her musings and rants can also be found on her personal blog, Biel Blather.