We are travelers, my family and I. That is what we did, how we made our living. We traveled, we danced. We saw most of the country, most of its people, some good, some bad, and some in between. We were the “Dancing Lepkas” Papa liked to call us. My job was to go among the crowd and dance with them, “Make them happy Ana, raise their spirits high” Papa always says, “This is the job the Lord has given us, you have a special talent for this my sweet one.” Papa didn’t care about money; he just wanted to see people with a smile on their faces.
So I danced, I had danced since I was three. Papa would take me up to the stage and say, “Show the people how you like to dance, sweet one.” And I did, and they would always smile and laugh. “That’s it my girl,” he would say, “Make them smile, my sweet Ana.” He always called me that, “my girl”, “my sweet one”. I was his jewel. Now it was 1923, I was nineteen and it was becoming a bit embarrassing to have him call me that in front of crowds.
We had a show that day, like any other, and I had to dance for the people. I was in a white blouse and a midnight blue skirt, which mama had made to bring out the blue in my eyes and she said it went well with my chocolate brown hair. As I headed out on to the platform just as the musicians were getting ready to start, I glanced into the crowd, smiling, like always, and I saw him. I saw a man with dirty blonde hair, a white shirt and brown trousers. He had almost a cocky look upon his face. He glanced up at me but I turned away quickly, I could feel his eyes following me.
The music started, and I danced. The music moved me this way and that. I followed its currents. I clapped my hands, and the barrage of people followed, I laughed and smiled. I began to spin closing my eyes and lifting my arms as if someone was spinning me. And suddenly there was. I felt a hand against mine and shock went through my body. I stumbled, and then started again. Then his hand encircled my waist, trying to balance me more. It didn’t work. I faltered again, this time nearly off the edge of the stage. He caught me and the music stopped. Mama and Papa came on stage and started dancing. “The show must go on,” they’d always tell me. The music started again. My cheeks were hot and probably as red as rose.
“Are you okay?” His voice, with a rich accent, sent shivers through my body. “I am terribly sorry.” “No, it’s perfectly alright, you just startled me,” I said flustered. “In any case you should probably take a rest,” he said, “you look faint.” I felt faint, but not from dancing. “Thank you,” was all I could manage to say. He sat me down in a chair, “What is your name?” he asked me. “Ana, Ana Lepka.” He had a thoughtful look on his face. “What about you,” I asked. “My name is Nathan Harris.” “Where are you from Mr. Harris?” “I came from Britain, South Wales to be specific and just Nathan, please. I dislike formalities between two people of the same generation.” “Alright, Nathan, if you wish,” I said, testing out the name. It felt like honey on my lips. “I really must be going,” he said. The disappointment on my face must have showed. “I apologize for sneaking up on you like that, but I am glad to have made your acquaintance.” With that, looking into my eyes, he kissed my hand.
I trembled, where his lips touched my skin burned. As he rose to turn away my whole body shivered. I had never felt that way before. I was drawn to this man. By now the music had ended. Applause filled my ears and my parents came over to me. “Ana, are you alright? Who was that man?” my mother asked. I said nothing, I couldn’t open my mouth. “Mama, let her alone, just look at the girl,” Papa said. “She is in love.” Their voices blended together, and swept over my head, I only heard one word. “Love.”
I had to find him. I couldn’t just let him leave. He did something to me, created a spark and now my entire being was aflame. I got up and almost as if in a trance walked out the door, and looked around. It was a rural area, so there wasn’t too much commotion. I spotted someone walking towards the river around the back of theater. I recognized his clothes and started towards him.
At first I was walking, then I started to run, tendrils of my hair were coming loose. I probably looked crazy but I didn’t care. As I came towards him I called out his name. He turned, and his eyes caught mine. “Ana,” he said. “Why did you follow me?” “I, I just, I have never felt like, you make me feel so, I can’t describe what you did but I just…” He took my hands; I backed up against a tree. He held my chin and looked into my eyes. With his other hand he brushed the hair out of my face. “Ana,” he breathed, “from the moment you looked at me on stage, I have been drawn to you. This is brash, and your parents will hate me for it but I have to…” And then he kissed me.
I kissed him back. “Nathan,” I said. And he kissed me again. “Hmm?” “I think,” he kissed me again. “I think I love you.” “I know I do” he replied. “But how? How does someone know they love someone else?” I asked. He looked at me for a moment, his eyes soft, and warm. “It is when someone cannot live without you; when you cannot live without them, when they are willing to put you ahead of themselves, when they’re willing do anything and everything for you because the smile on your face is all they’ll need. Your smile Ana, your smile is all I’ll ever need.
This time I kissed him. “You,” I said. “All I’ll ever need is you.” He kissed back and with one hand encircled my waist and brought me closer to him. I put my hands up to his cheeks, and felt the bristles that had just begun to grow. He took out the pins in my already loosened hair and it fell down my back. He kissed me some more and I caught fire. “Don’t ever let me go, Nathan.” I gasped. “Don’t ever let me go.”