She stopped for a moment and inhaled the cool, salty evening air. The sun had just started to dip behind the hills of the neighboring island. Mira took a mental photograph of the breathtaking scene.
“It’s Wednesday,” she thought, and smiled. Then she began counting to herself again. One and two, three and four.
Learning to dance had found its way back onto her bucket list at that dreadful birthday party. By then, she had been ashamed of the post-pregnancy weight that she hadn’t shed for so long that she was unable to move freely. Although she had loved and studied Latin dances in high school, at thirty-six, dancing at those outdoor celebrations had become a torment with the drunken uncles and clumsy, pushy “relatives.” And then came Elemér, the know-it-all who had a finger in every pie. It wasn’t enough that he showed up, but he also dragged her to dance to some never-ending wedding mix. After the first few beats, it became obvious that, along with all his brains, the man had no sense of rhythm. That, however, would not have been such a big deal if Elemér hadn’t wanted to show everyone present that he was a great dancer. As well. For some reason, he decided to demonstrate this with Mira. Without allowing any argument, he grabbed the unsuspecting woman, who was sipping champagne. The man’s lack of rhythm and Mira’s anxiety-induced stiffness led to embarrassing moments for both of them. Elemér was sweating as he tried to force her feet, which were rooted to the ground, into some clumsy moves to create a flashy dance. But the music did not end.
The DJ relentlessly strung together a bouquet of the most beloved wedding tunes of the grandparents’ generation. Mira’s pleading gaze searched in vain for someone to save her; no one noticed the struggle between the two of them. The men were busy drinking, the women gossiping. And Elemér was not one to give up easily. He bounced and twirled, while Mira clumsily stepped from side to side. They stomped and kicked each other’s feet, their foreheads dripping with sweat mercilessly. In the end, it was Elemér’s wife who put an end to their suffering. She took her husband with her. The well-matched couple jumped and pranced around the dance floor, laughing. They still cast a few disdainful glances at Mira, who, although she found the unrestrained frolicking and the wife’s occasionally flashing floral panties funny, envied them. The couple, after all, was having a great time. The two of them were enjoying the dance without a care in the world. Mira poured herself another glass of champagne and promised herself that if she finally lost weight, she would sign up for a dance class.
Who would have thought that those extra pounds would cling to her so stubbornly? The years rolled by, and Mira carefully avoided parties with dancing. Occasionally, she imagined living on a little island, dancing on the ocean shore at sunset. Then, she would smile at her vivid imagination and get back to work. She bought a hula hoop and started exercising. Every day, after dropping the kids off at school, she would grab the hoop and turn on the travel channel, where her favorite show about various islands was on. In that half-hour, she was always there, too. There inside, on the screen. She saw the endless ocean around her and felt the soft, warm sand under her feet.
The rhythm of bachata began to awaken in Mira a long-forgotten sensuality, while salsa rekindled her passion. Week by week, dance step by dance step, years of anxiety slowly melted away. Slowly but surely. The extra pounds surely forgave her for not waiting for their departure and for starting to dance. Wednesday evenings, in the square, down by the ocean. Just as she had imagined two years ago.
For Mira, the most cherished moment is when the sun is just about to set. The colors by then are no longer bright orange but gentle white. The ocean blends with the sky; there is no horizon, only the infinite. The white slowly turns to silver, then to gray. The scorching heat is replaced by the fresh, cool, salty evening. That special Wednesday evening that permeates every inch of her being.