Posted on Wednesday, 10 July 2002, at 1:17 a.m.
Author's Note: Hey Hey Hey, I just got back from my semester in Europe and it was WONDERFUL, anyhow I was inspired by this young couple I saw dancing in Barcelona. The young woman always closed her eyes when she was in her partners arms and I just thought that was the most romantic thing. My sister and I grinned like idiots when we saw them walking down Las Ramblas holding hands later that night...it was too cute...anyway I hope you enjoy this tiny little vignette
By most ordinary accounts Anne Elliot had royally screwed herself. From aspiring ballerina to dancing on the street. From residing in her family's palatial estate to a tiny loft in a barely desirable part of town. She had gone from wearing Gucci and Prada to wearing second hand clothing, from eating at the most exclusive eateries in the city to cooking her own food.
But she had never been happier.
By most ordinary accounts Anne Elliot would have been an utter fool to take a chance on impulsive, headstrong, stubborn, and mind-blowingly talented Frederick Wentworth. He was young, unproven and poor. It was prudent to reject him, and she knew it was what she should do for herself, for him. At least that's what everyone told her, her father, her friends, her head. But when Anne Elliot, noted ballerina, daughter of promising and respected socialites, stopped for a moment and listened to her heart and ignored the persuasion it led her to a single place.
And here she stood, amidst a heavy crowd, clustered about them. From tiny children, their little faces plastered with grins of anticipation, to older tourists well versed in wonders of street performers. And every time she was about to perform whether on a beaten side-walk or a hallowed hall, tiny butterflies began to flutter in her stomach. Her heart began to beat faster, and a tiny bead of perspiration began to form at her forehead. Nervously she gathered her curly hair into a loose bun, fastening it with a pencil, she adjusted her closely fitted shirt smoothing the wrinkles from her lithe, petite frame. Anxiety gripped her and she began to fidget...
Until the music started and she looked up...
And there he stood, older, more tanned from days of dancing under the beating sun, but still the same boyish face that at once soothed her soul and made her heart flip flop. His white shirt remained open at the collar and she could see him swallow deeply as he always did when nervous. She smiled to herself at the beard that adorned his chin, she had grown to love that beard, so much so that she had hid his razor, and he had complained good-naturedly until she had showed him how she loved it. He had never complained again.
She felt his hand encircle her waist firnly, and as he did he drew her closer to him, she drew in her breath in one sharp intake. Then as she always did, she closed her eyes.
And the fear melted away, the gawking tourists melted away, her family, their financial troubles, all that vanished from her mind. All that was left was the fact that at this moment she was in the arms in the man she loved. She could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt and she could hear him slowly count out the beats beneath his breath as he always did.
He led her deftly through every swift turn, and she would occasionally look up to make sure they were within the crowd, but she always stayed within his arms, he had once tried to put in moves for them to do separately but neither eventually took to them, and they always ended up back together, locked in this embrace.
The tango turned to a light swing, from that to a simple piece of ballet with a showy, crowd-pleasing lift. Hardly choreography that would have wowed their former teachers at the New York Ballet Academy. But even those critical eyes would have appreciated the technically flawless nature of their technique. But what made those audiences cheer each day and dole out their hard earned cash was the soulful nature of their performance, the look that Frederick bestowed upon Anne and the contented sighs that occasionally escaped her lips.
Later the crowds would speculate 'I wonder if they are a couple?' 'nah, it's probably just an act' 'no way, no one is that good of an actor.' And they would simply smile at one another before Frederick would catch up her hand and kiss her simple wedding band.
Later after the crowd would disperse they would gather up the days collections and pack up their modest gear, and stroll back to their apartment, hand in hand. Leaving some of the longest lingering spectators to exclaim, 'see I told you they were a couple!'
Some time later, both Frederick and Anne would be discovered at their auditions and both would eventually make a name for themselves in the dance world but as they danced every day upon that sidewalk, neither knew such a thing would come to pass.
And to tell the absolute truth, neither cared, for even with the success and glory that was to come, both would always be happiest dancing in each other's arms as they did on that side-walk.
So some may say that Anne Elliot screwed herself out of a glorious lifestyle and a promising future. But if you ever saw the look upon her face as she danced in her husband's arms, you would know how happy she was that she listened to her heart and not her head.