Look into my eyes.
The eyes are green. I know the face they belong to.
I find myself in a ballroom, my right hand clasped in a stranger’s, my left on his shoulder. His eyes are green.
I stumble over the boy’s feet. He catches me. “Are you alright, Sam?”
He must have been the one to speak. I look over my shoulder to see who he’s addressing. But the dancing couples around us continue, and I turn back to my partner, confused.
“Sam?”
That must be me. That’s strange. I knew what my name was a moment ago. I knew where I was a moment ago.
“Sam.”
I look at his thin mouth and not at his startling eyes. “Yes, I’m alright. I…” What should I say? “I just got dizzy all of a sudden. I think I’ll go sit down.”
My left hand leaves his shoulder and I turn to go. But my right stays entrapped in his palm. He pulls me back to continue dancing.
“No.” He puts his hand on my waist and pushes me backward, back into the steps.
“I really don’t think it’s a good idea…” I try to pull away again, but I can’t. The eyes are hypnotizing and the grip is like iron.
“What isn’t a good idea? Sam, you know. You can’t leave this dance floor. Not now, not until the music dies and the guests leave. Don’t you remember?”
I want to cry. His voice is urgent and pleading and angry and strong and I don’t know who he is or why I’m here and I just want to say no. No I don’t remember. I don’t remember you, I don’t remember the ballroom. I don’t remember anything. But I can’t.
“Well, yeah, of course…” I say. He can’t know.
“Sam, if you give us away, you’ll die.”
I forget even the steps to the dance for a moment now, dumbfounded and scared. Should I tell him? I must have trusted him before, to be dancing with him in apparently a life-and-death situation. But given that I don’t remember anything… He could be the reason why.
“There’s…” I have to tell someone. I can’t just dance until I fade away to nothing. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
Concerned green eyes meet my own. I wonder, for a moment, if his intense green matches the color of my eyes. I don’t know what color my eyes are.
“What is it?”
I stare down at my feet, pretending to concentrate while we continue to twirl across the floor. I somehow know how to do the dance, even though I have no recollection of ever learning it.
“Hello? Anyone home?”
Okay. Okay, I’ll tell him. I’ll trust him. “I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember what you were going to say?”
“No. I don’t remember. Anything. Me, you, this place, and certainly not why I’ll die if I stop dancing.”
Horror. Fear. Complete disbelief, for a moment. Then the eyes close and I see resignation. Resignation to what has happened, something I realize now must be linked to why we’re here, but I can’t make the connection. I know it’s there, in my mind, but I can’t grasp it. I can’t grasp anything.
The dance ends and another begins. The boy pulls me up against him and start talking in my ear, very quiet and very fast.
“At the end of this dance, I want you to leave. I’ll accompany you to the door and get you a taxi. Ask them to bring you to the Marriott hotel on 10th Avenue. There’s a key for room 613 in your coat which they’ll give back to you at the door. Do you understand?”
I nod.
“After that, stay in the hotel room and don’t answer any calls. Hopefully I’ll be able to come back in around an hour or so. Okay?”
I can only nod again.
The dance ends.
We walk to the door, the boy next to me tense, although I can only tell because my arm is wrapped around his. I try to stay calm. The doorman hands me my coat, and when he turns to face us, the boy freezes. The coat is dropped in my arms and a gun emerges.
I clasp his hand, my fingers white, and stare at the weapon and the face behind it.
“Look at me, Sam. Look at me.”
I turn to the boy.
“It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
I nod.
“Try not to think about anything that’s going to happen. Just look into my eyes.”
Darkness.
I find myself in a ballroom, my right hand clasped in a stranger’s, my left on his shoulder. His eyes are green.