As soon as he opened the driver's-side door of the battered '81 Civic he caught the familiar sound of Chris deBurgh's latest single drifting out to the street from the open second-floor window of the faded brick building.
...when you touch me I can hardly move
you take my breathe away
you give me all that I want to feel
when we become as one...(1)
"They started without us ! 'No fair !" The disappointment was plainly evident in Kevin's child-like voice.
"They probably saw us pull up and decided to start the music so that we wouldn't walk in on a quiet room." Placing the car keys in his pants pocket, Brad shut the door, holding the handle so it would lock. "I'm sure we didn't miss anything."
"You sure ?"
Looking up at his younger brother for the first time since climbing out of the car - Kevin stood on the curb, holding onto the open door with both hands, his face half turned to the building - Brad gave a reassuring smile and a nod.
"Yeah. I'm sure."
It was obvious from the way Kevin continued to look at the open window that he did not quite believe his brother.
"Come on," Brad urged as he walked around the front of the car and, after gently removing Kevin's hands from the sky blue metal, locked and closed the passenger door. "Let's not keep them waiting."
His expression of betrayal changing to one of resignation - Brad quickly hid his astonishment at the unexpectedly mature mood swing behind an especially wide grin - Kevin turned his gaze fully from the window, at the same time reaching out to take one of Brad's hands in one of his own oversized ones.
"'Kay."
Brad in the lead, with Kevin shuffling almost reluctantly behind, the pair made their way up the paved walk. As they drew near the propped open door of the building, Chris deBurgh's song faded out, and for a moment there was only the excited babble of numerous voices drifting from the window; Kevin paused to look up with uncertainty.
"They're just changing the record."
Despite Brad's explanation, the uncertainty remained for a moment longer, only to vanish completely when the music, accompanied by screams of delight, began again. Glancing quickly at Brad with a wide smile, Kevin started to move hurriedly toward the doors, dragging his brother after.
Nearly kicking the chair which held one of the doors open as they passed, the pair entered the lobby of the building - Brad barely had time to notice the large pink cardboard hand directing the party-goers up the stairs - crossed the marble-tiled floor, and began the steep climb to the second floor. The Beatles were already tearing into the chorus of 'I Want to Hold Your Hand' as the brothers reached the second floor landing, accompanied, or so it seemed, by a multitude of frenzied fans; even Kevin was singing along in his high, childish voice. With Brad still being pulled along by the hand, they quickly traversed the short hallway and passed through the only door which stood open, where Kevin suddenly stopped with a delighted cry of wonder, his head turning from side to side as his gaze swept the room.
"Aw-sum !" he exclaimed breathlessly.
Likewise breathless, though not from awe, Brad, too, looked around the room, the smile on his face more for the efforts of the decorators than for their achievements.
Red and green and yellow and pink and blue streamers chased each other across the ceiling and down the walls in an endlessly clashing, though admittedly cheerful, parade of colours; cardboard cut-outs of hearts and flowers and birds, each with a name signed in bright neon colours in the centre, hung in scattered groups from the roof; a garden of tissue-paper flowers decorated the top of one of the two tables, while the other was merely covered with a pink-plastic cloth on which rested a large punchbowl filled with a lime green liquid and numerous plastic glasses. At the far end of the room, teetering precariously on top of a small wooden stand, a fair-sized portable stereo provided the music for the twenty or so figures moving in the cleared centre of the room, as well as for the dozen other people standing or sitting in small groups who watched the dancers.
"Aw-sum !" Kevin exclaimed again, at the same time turning to look down at his brother to see if he shared the sentiment.
"Not too bad..." Brad started.
"Yeah ! I's great !"
"Hey Kev !"
Both brothers turned to face the speaker, a tall girl with thick black-rimmed glasses and a faded pair of blue coveralls covering her thin frame, her face alive with ecstacy as she waved to Kevin from her spot on the dance floor.
"Tina !" Kevin answered excitedly, lifting his free hand to wave back.
"I wanna hold yer hand !" Tina, with a lot of feeling but little else, sang along, motioning for Kevin to join her.
"'Kay !"
His enthusiasm momentarily abated when he started to move toward the dance floor, his body already beginning to move rapidly in time to the music, and discovered something was holding him back. A questioning expression on his face, he glanced over his shoulder.
"Brad ? Oh, I'm sorry !"
"About what ?"
"I won't leave ya 'lone."
"Hey, that's what you're here for. Go dance."
"Sure ?"
Grinning in reassurance, Brad pushed Kevin playfully in Tina's direction, adding firmly, "Go!"
Mirroring his brother's grin, Kevin again turned to join Tina.
"Ah, Kev ?"
Uncertainly he looked back over his shoulder at the sound of his name.
"My hand ?"
"What ?" Following the direction of Brad's nod, he was surprised to see that they were still holding hands; guiltily he let Brad's go, abashedly placing his own two behind his back as a shameful blush entered his cheeks. "I's sorry."
"Kev !" Tina called impatiently over the music.
"Go !"
Momentarily torn between brother and friend, Kevin, for a third time, moved toward Tina only after Brad's firm insistence, immediately forgetting his brother as soon as he reached the floor and began to dance, arms, seemingly of their own accord, flailing wildly to the sides as his entire body twisted in time to the music.
"I don't know what they call it, but it sure as hell ain't the jitterbug."
Brad, leaning casually against one wall, a cup of the lime green punch held in his hand, glanced to the left at the sound of the barely whispered remark, just in time to see the young man's companion, his corpulent torso balanced almost comically on two emaciated legs, let out a burst of wheezy laughter. The first man, his acne-scarred face twisted into a smile which stopped short of his eyes, nodded meaningfully at the dance floor.
Following the motion nonchalantly, Brad's own smile nearly dropped as he realized the truth of the man's next words.
"Look at them," the mixture of contempt and disgust contrasted sharply with his smile. "It looks like someone shoved a cattle prod up their asses."
Brad's eyes flickered to one side of the dance floor, where Kevin, along with Tina and three others, jerked about in time to the music. For the first time in the hour since he had arrived, he found himself repulsed by the way most of those on the floor moved - their arms thrashing in reckless abandon, heads bobbing crazily from side to side, legs rising and falling like out-of-sink pistons, their hips wildly rotating in grotesque imitation of long-dead rock stars... The only ones who moved with any semblance of normality were the so-called 'regular' people - the parent, the sibling, the friend...
"... not for the pay."
"You got that right."
Hardly hearing the pair, Brad continued to gaze out at the floor, his repulsion giving way to disgust at himself as he noticed the faces; smiles, open and innocent, without exception, lit the features of the revellers. The unbounded joy they expressed with their carefree movements overshadowed the repulsiveness of their far-from-perfect movements. It might not have been the kind of dancing Wham! had in mind when they recorded the song, but the obvious pleasure it gave to those gathered on the dance floor definitely would have made them grin and nod their heads in approval.
"At least there's only another hour," the fat one said.
Shaking his head in disgust at both himself and the two men, Brad pushed himself away from the wall, the plastic cup of punch forgotten in his hand. Pausing only long enough to glance at Kevin, he turned and began to walk in the direction of the door, the wide smile once more firmly in place.
"You must be Kevin's brother."
Startled by the unexpected voice, Brad turned quickly from his silent contemplation of the grass at the edge of the walkway, at the same time guiltily hiding behind his back the lit cigarette held in his right hand ; a thin wisp of whitish-gray smoke drifted embarrassingly from his nose as he exhaled.
In the doorway, wearing a knee-length black skirt and an off-white silk blouse, stood a young woman of about twenty-five. She smiled warmly at Brad with her grayish-green eyes while at the same time one delicate hand unconsciously stroked the long braid of ginger-brown hair that hung over one shoulder.
"Ah... Yeah." He nervously stammered. "Brad... Brad Murphy."
Stretching out her hand - she seemed genuinely startled, and slightly embarrassed, to discover she had been stroking her hair - she quickly closed the short distance between them, her hips swaying gently beneath her skirt.
"Chris Timmons."
His cheeks turning red in embarrassment, Brad looked quickly up at her face, and then, just as quickly, to the side; her resulting laugh only served to deepen the hue of his features.
"It's alright," she spoke soothingly, the lightness still in her voice. "That's why I wore it."
"I'm sorry. I..." his voice trailed off as he looked back at her, unsure what to say. Glancing down at his feet in a vain effort to cover his embarrassment, he noticed her hand, still held out for him to shake. Without thinking he pulled his own out from behind his back and thrust it forward to take hers; the fact that he still held his burning cigarette entirely escaped his notice, until Chris cleared her throat in a meaningful way. With an exaggerated flick of his wrist, he tossed the butt to the side.
"Sorry."
"I used to smoke," Chris finally spoke into the awkward silence which followed their handshake." A couple years ago."
"One of those." The words were out of his mouth almost before he realized what he was saying, his tone earning him a hurt look from Chris. "I'm sorry," he said a third time, his voice softer. "It's just that as soon as anyone knows I smoke, they automatically damn me. Usually it's the reformed smokers that are the worst."
"What was it Oscar Wilde wrote ? 'The converted go around warning people of all the things of which they have grown tired ?' Something like that." Her grayish-green eyes sparkled beautifully as she spoke, more than a hint of mirth in her voice. "Don't worry about me - I quit so I could save some money, not because I think it's disgusting... Well, I think it's disgusting, but I don't think I've got a right to condemn people who choose to smoke... I'm babbling, aren't I ?"
"Huh ?" Her change in topic caught Brad completely off-guard. "I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention. I mean..."
"If you say you're sorry one more time..." In mock anger she raised one fist in front of his face; her open smile - twin rows of perfectly even white teeth framed within an oval of dull crimson - gave the lie to her action. Unconsciously Brad opened his mouth to apologize yet again, only to quickly close it when she waved her hand threateningly. "Don't say it..."
"Oh please don't hit me, missy !" Dropping to his knees on the paved walkway, Brad gazed up into Chris' face with an expression of pleading on his features and an amused smile in his eyes. "I won't say it again ! I promise ! Just don't hit me !"
The laughter which erupted from Chris - musical in quality, with just the hint of a snort - caused Brad to instantly flush in embarrassment as he realized how foolish he must look to this total stranger; shame-faced, he climbed back to his feet, once more falling silent as his gaze fixed on the grass at the edge of the pavement.
From the open door and the second floor window could be heard the Beatles as they urged everyone to twist and shout, a command that the dancers were enthusiastically following out, their shouts nearly drowning out the vocals; it was the only sound to be heard when Chris' laughter gently trailed into silence.
"So..." Chris began after the relative quiet had stretched for almost a minute. "How come your not upstairs dancing ?"
"I'm not much of a dancer."
"You think everyone else is ?"
Anger flashed in Brad's eyes as he looked up at the young woman, his opinion of her shattered by that one brief sentence. "You're..." he started to say in remonstration. Then he saw the innocent expression on her face: it was free of the contempt that had so plainly been visible in the two others - she had merely been making a statement of fact, without judgement. Shame once more forced him to lower his head, his shoulders hunching forward in a shrug.
"They're better than me," he countered lamely.
If she had seen his momentary lapse of anger, she gave no sign. "Oh, come on. You can't be that bad."
Again, a shrug.
This time their awkward silence was even more noticeable, as the music likewise stopped - only the excited gaggle of the partygoers broke the quiet of the darkening night. When next the music started - Journey's "Open Arms" - Chris let out a short burst of glee.
"I love this song ! I think it's one of the most beautiful that I've ever heard ! Come on, you must at least be able to waltz !"
Even before Brad could lift his head or respond, she stepped nearer to him and wrapped her arms lightly around his shoulders, pulling his body closer to her own. For a moment he stiffened involuntarily, his arms rigid at his side; but as Chris began to turn in time to the music, he found himself compelled to turn with her - either that or lose his balance and send the two of them crashing to the ground. Ever so conscious of the sweat running freely down his side, he tentatively raised his arms to enfold her in his embrace, his wet palms barely caressing the back of her silk blouse.
Softly you whisper - you're so sincere
How could our love be so blind ?(2)
As their bodies swayed softly in accompaniment to the tune, Brad found himself drawn tighter against Chris' unyielding form, his face pressing ever so lightly against her brown hair, the fragrant aroma of her perfume sending chills of pleasure throughout his whole body, the feeling heightened as her delicate hands rubbed softly - absently - against his back.
For that one brief moment of time all else was forgotten - Kevin, the dance, work... The entire world seemed no more than a dream, its insistent rapping on his consciousness drowned under the waves of their beating hearts.
So here I am - with open arms
Hoping you'll see, what your love means to me
Open arms(2)
Even after the last of the song had faded out, they continued to circle slowly, clinging to each other while their hips swayed in time to the beating of their hearts. Only after another tune began to wail from the upper room did they break apart - almost reluctantly.
"Thank you." Chris whispered as she took one step back, her eyes meeting and locking with Brad's.
Not even thinking - for how could reason play any part in his response - he spoke, the words tumbling out in a barely comprehensible jumble: "Would you like to go out with me sometime ? To a movie or dinner or something ?"
Taking the quick aversion of her eyes as a sign of rejection, he, too, let his gaze drift to the side. "I'm sorry..." If possible, the words came even faster this time. "I don't know what I was thinking. We don't even know each other. I just got caught up in the song..."
"Yes."
"I'm not normally like this. I'm really very shy... Yes ?"
"Yes. I'd like to go out with you."
"Really ?" He could only stare at her in disbelief, his mouth hanging embarrassingly open.
She nodded. "Really."
"Wow."
"Brad ?"
"Wow ?"
"I mean, that'd be great !"
"There ya are ! I was lookin' for you !"
Tearing his gaze away from Chris' smiling face, Brad practically beamed at Kevin as the younger brother walked through the open doors. At the sight of Brad, Kevin's face lightened noticeably.
"Where ya been ?"
"Kevin !" Darting a glance in Chris' direction - fearing that she would vanish now that Kevin had appeared - he moved a step closer to where his brother had stopped, a scant two feet outside the building. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just came out for a smoke."
"I wasn't 'scared, Brad. I's just worried. I thought ya might be lonely. You ain't been dancin'."
"I'm fine. Chris' been keeping me company."
"I ain't seen ya for awhile - I got worried." The tone of his voice had something of the scolder in it.
"Really, I'm fine." Brad responded, doing his best to look properly contrite. " There's no reason for you to worry about me."
Mollified, Kevin first turned to Chris and gave her a wide smile, then reached out and grabbed hold of his brother's arm, pulling him gently, but firmly, back toward the open door.
"Come on ! Let's dance some more !"
Chris' amused laughter filled Brad's ears as he found himself dragged into the building. Looking helplessly back over his shoulder, he sighed in relief at the sight of her smiling at him as she followed the pair back to the party.
