I would just stay at my table
or stand against a wall
pretend I’m still eating
as my fork makes awkward sounds on the plate
Get another soda or talk to my Uncles
Take an unneeded trip to the men’s room
water fountain
I would watch as they moved confidently toward the dance floor
Not much grace
No style.
No rhythm
Nothing where it should be
bulges and big hips
ill-fitting clothes
too much makeup
stocking feet with a hole near the big toe
“Come dance with us.”
“I don’t know how to dance.”
They will try again later
maybe even take my hand and try to pull me to the dance floor
“I don’t like this song.”
Cake and coffee
The dj starts packing up
I’m safe
My mom would tell me, every time, on the way home,
“you should have danced with us.”
She would say it
exhaustedly
from all the fun she had
and the thought of memories I didn’t make
“They never get to see you;
they just wanted to have fun with you.”
I could never wait to leave
She would tell my dad
“I wish we didn’t live so far.”
He would just shrug his shoulders
My little brother would always dance
He was too young to know better
A huge smile with his feet atop my mom’s
She would move his hands to the beat
then pass him off to one of our Aunts
then another for the next song and another after that
him laughing the whole time
his feet never touching the floor
“Did you like that?”
“Yeah, it’s fun to dance.”
“You look silly.”
“I don’t care.”
What a stupid kid he was
This bus is crowded
uncomfortable
stuffy with artificial heat
My eyes are narrow
Another ride
in a sideways seat
I count the street signs to my stop
There’s something on my calendar
that I am living forward to
There’s an old woman in a middle seat
cramped
big
and bundled to save herself from the cold
Smiling
under the furry hood of her parka
I steal glances at her as she stares
to the front of the bus
she not with us now
she’s not uncomfortable
she’s awash
in a memory
Her thick foot taps against the floor
she shakes slightly to the beat
of some music that I can’t hear