Just Smile

June 25th, 2010

Stephanie slowly made her way down the wooden steps that lead to the basement of her home, only the railing to guide her on her blackened descent. She didn't need the lights. She didn't want them. The painful tightening in her chest made it almost impossible to breathe as she finally reached the bottom step. As if she had done it a thousand times before, she reached out her hand and flicked a single switch on the wall before her. The only lights that came to life were three spotlights that her father had installed in the ceiling for her when he had remodeled the entire basement. The lights brightened only those three spots on the floor, leaving the rest of the room bathed in an ethereal mixture of light and shadows.

"Steph...are you okay?" Her father asked from the top of the stairs.

Stephanie lifted a trembling hand to her face as she tucked strands of her waist length red hair behind her ear.

"I just...need to be alone..." She replied, her voice barely a whisper since she didn't trust it to not crack with the force of her emotions. She turned to her right and surveyed the room before her. At one point it had just been a basement with a concrete floor and walls, housing a few cardboard boxes and miscellaneous items that had no place to go upstairs. But six months ago, her father had given her a gift that she never thought possible. He had transformed their basement into a small dance studio with Harlequin Liberty LatchLoc panel flooring and an entire wall covered with ceiling to floor mirrors. He had also installed a large sound system with speakers in each ceiling corner of the room.

Stephanie had been dancing for as long as she could remember but once she had reached high school, dance was no longer part of her life but instead it had become her life. She was introduced into the worlds of hip hop, jazz, modern, ballet, lyrical, and most importantly, Michael Jackson. She had quickly fallen in love with Michael's music and the hypnotizing dance moves he performed, gliding across stages as if he were walking on water. He had become the center focus for her inspiration and through his guidance whether it be through interviews she listened to or quotes from him that she read on the internet, she had learned the difference between dancing and becoming the dance. Since her Sophomore year of high school, she had performed Michael Jackson's "Thriller" which had been choreographed by a close friend of her's. The advanced dance class performed the thirteen-minute dance every year at the school's March event called A.I.M which stood for Artists in Motion. Even after Stephanie had graduated in 2007, the dance instructor, Gwen Martins, had invited her back year after year to teach the new advanced class that special dance. She knew that dance from beginning to end, including all of the parts she wasn't even in. Whether it was in the school's dance studio or at home in her kitchen, Stephanie would always be found dancing and twirling as if her own personal radio was playing in her head.

She slowly moved away from the stairs and onto the dance floor, her black dance sneakers tapping gently against the polished wooden floor. She kept her head down, staring at the floor as she stood in front of the long line of mirrors she knew was right in front of her. Instead of looking up, she squeezed her eyes shut as a tidal wave of emotions swamped her, threatening to suffocate her as memories of exactly one year ago flashed in her mind and sounded in her ears.

June 25th of 2009...she remembered it like it was yesterday. She had dressed in her usual black leggings and loose black tank-top, her hair thrown up in a haphazard bun and her dance bag slung over her shoulder. She had been ready to tell her father that she was leaving for dance rehearsal when she heard the television on in the living room. When she had turned and made her way into the room, her eyes immediately fell on the television where she saw Michael Jackson's beautiful face but it was accompanied with the words "MICHAEL JACKSON DIES IN LOS ANGELES HOSPITAL". A scream of pure agony had been torn from her throat as she collapsed to the floor. She shoved her dance bag off of her shoulder and had lunged at the television, holding it between her hands as she stared at the screen listening to the news anchor as he spoke. "There is breaking news now on Fox News Channel, the Los Angeles Times and the Associated Press are now reporting that Michael Jackson has died in Los Angeles this afternoon. Fox News cannot confirm this but Associated Press has just reported that a person with knowledge of the situation says Michael Jackson has died."