How Can I Keep Dancing? [ON HOLD]

How Can I Keep Dancing? ~~~ Chapter 8 ~~~

“Hey, Macka, Tommy,” says the bouncer with a light southern accent, “where you been at?”

“Around, chasing this girl,” Elijah tells him, inclining his head to me, “How’ve you been, Hank?”

“Not bad,” Hank says, opening the door for us without a second glance at either Nancy or I, “Don’t cause too much trouble, will you?”

“Never do,” Elijah and Tom say at the same time, leading us inside.

In the distance I can hear loud Irish music playing, and I wonder how the boys can possibly know their way around the dark hallway in which we are walking down now. I keep my hand clasped in Elijah’s, and soon we come into a large dimly lit room smelling of stale beer and smoke with many people laughing, smoking and drinking, sitting around various round wooden tables scattered around the room. A band is playing on the stage where the loud Irish music is blasting into the room while many dancers swing about the dance floor in a sort of quick jive. All over, I’ve never seen such a disorganized sort of place that felt so alive.

Elijah leads us to a small table in the corner, taking off his coat and gesturing to a waitress who approaches us with a broad smile, pints of beers ready for all of us. She greets the boys by name and seems surprised to see someone in such fancy clothing to be here with him. I stare at the beer in front of me as though I’ve never seen one before, but I feel merely thankful they’re not asking what our real age is and only going for something simple.

“Is there anything else we can drink?” I ask Elijah.

“Not really. Unless you count water.” He gives me a sideways glance. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to.”

But I feel a challenge spark in me as he says this and I grab the pint eagerly and take a large drink from it. It was certainly not as sleek as many of the drinks I’d had before at home, but I feel myself become more relaxed through the bitter coldness in this heat. Elijah gives me a surprised look but then breaks out in a grin, giving out a laugh at my expression.

I enjoy the music and watch as the older adults dance around as though they own the dance floor. As I watch the people around me I sip at my drink politely, leaning against Elijah whilst we each talk and joke about the night passed. I’d drunk champagne before, and on some occasions something stronger, as sometimes Mother feels in a better mood or a celebration of some sort, but drinking something slightly stronger in taste makes all my worries cease.

After a while, the music changes beat to something quicker paced. I don’t recognize the tune, but the crowd shouts with exclamations of joy and laughter and after a moment I see why. The dancing was just simply hilarious to watch as people no longer cared about being stylish, instead just moving around to the music as they felt free. Elijah is offered to dance by a young woman who calls him by his nickname. I try and not feel suspicious as he takes up her offer, swinging her onto the dance floor, both of them giggling loudly. Nancy and Tom join them a moment later and I can’t help but laugh at the hilarity and clap along with the music. At one moment, I see one person fall out of his chair and break a few glasses, but he soon gets up with the help of his friends with a laugh, and just downs another drink as though nothing had happened at all.

When the music finishes, Elijah stops dancing near me.

“I’m gonna dance with Charlotte now, okay?” he tells her and she nods with a smile, going off to dance with another guy.

Elijah comes near me, offering a hand to me. “Come on,” he says.

I look at his hand with a questioning look. “What?”

“We’re dancing.” And with that he pulls me up into his embrace, but I protest.

“Elijah, no. I don’t know the steps.”