We begin our story in a dark, dusky room. There are two hard dark brown chairs that face each other with a desk in between. Blinds on the windows cast a constant shadow while a grey fan is spins slowly above. On one of the chairs sits a girl who rarely speaks. She’s shy, intimidated and scared. And across from her on the other chair and on the other side of the desk sits a man who wears a suit. He has a very low, unfriendly voice which sounds like a growl when he speaks.

“So you don’t like the puppet either?” asked the man.

The girl shook her head.

“Very well.”

And so he took up his pen and crossed-off yet another item on an old piece of paper. Next he took out a stuffed animal. Once again, the girl simply stared at the proffered item, not saying a word. After a moment of waiting the man put away the stuffed animal and crossed off yet another thing on his list. Now the man was beginning to get frustrated.

“You know I’m trying to help you.” Said the man in the suit.

The girl looked up at him, nodded, then averted her eyes again.

“But there is only so much I can do. You must help yourself as well. If you want a normal life, you must have the ability to speak. There is normalcy in communication. Understand?”

The girl nodded again.

“Well, the session is up. Go home, we’ll try again tomorrow. I want you to try to say ‘hello’ to at least one person whom you do not know on the way home. Okay, off you go.”

The girl got up and was glad to leave the dark, dusky room.

Then there was rain. Not too much rain, but enough that the girl felt wet mere minutes after leaving the dark dusky room. On the way home she tried to talk to a stranger but she could not. She was cold and more focused on the cold weather rather than the unpleasant task of speaking to someone she did not know. She knew the man in the suit had her best interest in mind but still she did not like him. She did not like how he had her talk to stuffed animals, to pictures, to puppets, and, in particular, to other people. But she knew that he was right- she had to communicate in order to have a normal life. She had to be able to speak.

She thought more about this as she walked, letting the rain fall on her. But she decided to take a different route home today because she remembered it being shorter and she was already cold and she wanted to go inside. So she turned down an ally in between two large black buildings which led to a side street that was unfamiliar to her. She took a wrong turn. She was about to turn back when she saw something out of the corner of her eye; a white building which was brightly lit and did not look like the other buildings around it. She decided to walk over to it. It had a large window and in the window there were other girls, which were around her age, moving around. But they were not moving randomly, they were moving in sync with each other the girl noticed. Whenever one moved one direction another moved in complement of her. Then came a girl who was smaller than all of them but more elegant. The other girls moved aside and allowed the smaller girl to perform. The small girl flipped through the air to land in a perfect split. She then got up and made a bridge with her body; her stomach was in the air as he hands and feet supported the rest of her body. Then she flipped again to land on her feet and the other girls moved around her. Cold and still outside, the girl watched this smaller girl with awe and envy. All the girls inside were speaking to the girl outside. They exuded a confidence that the girl lacked, that the girl needed. But still cold and wet, the girl turned to leave the brightly lit studio.

When the girl returned home she was wet and tired from the detour. Upon hearing the door shut the girl’s anxious mother appeared from the other room. She as a weak old woman who cared for her daughter and constantly worried about her but did not know what to do about her daughter’s speaking problem. She was frail and skinny and had messy brown hair with knots. Her eyes were the same color as her messy hair and today she wore a simple grey shirt and jeans two sizes too big for her.

“The Girl!” She said hurriedly, “I didn’t know where you were! Are you okay? You must be cold.” And she walked over to The Girl and insisted that she sit by the fire.

“I’m okay mom.” Said The Girl.

“Do you want something warm to drink? Another blanket? I’m so sorry I couldn’t pick you up today but I had an appointment myself, bills again, and I had to pay the rent. I still owe them but I managed to get an extension on the payment for now.”

And with that The Girl’s mother got up and walked into the kitchen and brought out a cup of hot chocolate and handed it to The Girl, who accepted it gratefully.

“Why were you so late getting home anyway?” asked her mother.

“I don’t know.” Said The Girl evasively.

“Don’t lie to me.” Said her mother sternly. “Really, now why were you so late coming home? It’s so cold outside and raining and you didn’t even have an umbrella!”

But The Girl wasn’t listening. She stared into the fire, noticing how the flames each had their own unique shape while they burned. She was content now, back home, back in her spot by the fire with a cup of warm hot chocolate and away from the man in the suit.

“I-” started in The Girl “-I saw something. Something new, and it got my attention and that’s why I’m late.”

“What’s this?” asked her mother.

“Dancing.”

“What?”

”Dancing.” repeated The Girl, “Girls dancing.”

“Girls dancing?”

“Yes and-” The Girl paused, “-and they all looked so-” The Girl paused again and looked down, “-so different than me.”

“Different, in a good way?” asked her mother.

“Mom they were so elegant. It was like they were talking to me without even saying anything.”

The Girl’s eyes were now huge and excited. She was gripping the mug of hot chocolate so hard that almost shattered. But then she loosened her grip and her eyes darkened again.

“I wish, I wish I could-“ but she broke off without finishing her sentence and ran up into her room, leaving the hot chocolate on the carpet near the fire.

At the next session The Girl’s mother made sure that she came- for she didn’t want her daughter to have to walk home again. After about an hour the man with the suit opened the heavy wooden door and gestured to her that she come in. An additional seat had been added so that two hard dark brown chairs in the dark dusty room faced the man while he shuffled through a large list of papers.

“Miss C.” he growled “this is session number fifteen and I’ve been unable to make much progress with your daughter.”

“Oh.” said Miss C. simply “what’s the problem doctor? Why haven’t you been able to make any progress?”

“Because,” he started “I don’t think that traditional methods are going to work. See I’ve used them all up.”

“Oh that doesn’t sound good.” Said Miss C. worriedly, “What are you going to do now?”

“That’s why I called you in today actually.” Said the doctor “I have a solution in mind but I’m going to need your permission in order to see it to fruition.”

“Yes? What is this solution?”

“We send her to receive electro-shock therapy.”

The Girl’s mother simply stared at him.

“It’s harmless really,” continued the doctor. “it would stimulate parts of her brain which would allow for her to live a normal life.”

At this point The Girl’s mother began to get angry. She got up, took The Girl by the hand and walked over to the door.

“Where do you think you’re going ma’am?” asked the man in the suit.

With her hand on the doorknob she turned her head, “Doctor, you always talk about how my daughter needs to have a ‘normal’ life. Define normal.” And with that, the pair left the dark dusky room.

The Girl never again set foot in that doctor’s office and spent the next few days in her favorite spot by the fire as always, she stared into the flames and the only thing she could think about were those girls and dancing. How elegant, how magnificent they were compared to herself, how happy.

That night, after her mother left to go to the grocery store The Girl decided to do something bold: run away to look at the dancers, if only for a short while. So after she heard the garage door shut she got her coat and departed from the house, alone

It was a cool autumn night as she walked crisply across the frozen grass. The moon had just come out and was shining brightly above. Moving quickly, The Girl leapt over fences and went through people’s lawns- the quickest way to the brightly lit studio.

Upon arriving, The Girl was almost frozen due to the cold but exhilarated. She felt this was the right place to be- this spot, right here right now. And she stared into that large glass window and took in every detail of what she was seeing with a hunger uncharacteristic to her normal self. She stared and saw a brightly lit studio which contrasted to the darkened buildings to the left and right; she stared and saw herself- a reflection from a large polished mirror, she saw what looked like the instructor clapping, keeping the beat while about ten girls moved to the sounds of the instructor’s hands.

After about ten minutes had passed the girls took a break and the instructor sat down and got some water. The instructor looked outside and saw a young girl, alone, staring back.

“Odd.” She said to herself and walked outside to the girl.

“Miss,” she said “Are you lost?”

“Uhm,” started The Girl “No.”

“What are you doing out here in the cold?”

“Uhm- just watching.”

“Well come inside at the very least if you stay out here you might freeze!”

And the instructor smiled, displaying brilliantly white teeth. It was a sincere smile, one that exuded warmth and confidence and made a shy little girl feel at home. So she walked into the studio a less shy than normal. But once she was in the studio she immediately became shy and reserved as normal because she noticed all of the other girls staring at her.

“If you’ll have a seat miss…”

“The Girl.”

“Miss The Girl, let’s get a hold of your mother. What’s her phone number? And I want the rest of you to continue with the routine!” she said, gesturing to the girls drinking water.

And still muttering, the girls got back into position and they began again. The Girl watched them as they danced. Once again all she could notice was their elegance and grace. But this time she looked into their movements and saw something different, sadness. It was not merely the music that was sad but their movements, so precise and full of intent, implied sadness as well.
When the instructor returned The Girl commented about what she has observed.

“Well your mother is on her was and she’s worried sick mind you.”

“Thank you.” said The Girl “This is a sad dance, isn’t it?.”

“What do you mean?” asked the instructor, surprised.

“Their movements, it’s like they lost something, or someone.”

The dance instructor stared at The Girl with an impressed expression.

“Yes. This piece is about mourning the loss of a loved one. You have a good eye young woman. Do you dance?” asked the instructor.

“No.” replied The Girl

“Well that is unfortunate. I personally believe everyone should dance.” she paused and looked at the group of girls spinning on the spot. “I believe of expression one can only show through dancing. It’s truly a window into the soul; a gateway onto the most intimate faucets of a person’s identity; it is speaking without saying a word. Simply put, intimate expressionism.”

The Girl looked at the instructor’s face and noted the sincerity. The instructor then turned back to The Girl and asked a question,

“The Girl, would you like to dance?”

Her mother arrived a few minutes later, her face red with cold, brushing off the snow on her head.

“The Girl” yelled her mother, “Why in the world did you run away?” she asked, her teeth chattering.

“Sorry Mom.” Replied The Girl, sheepishly.

“Well,” said her mother, “let’s go.”

She turned toward the door, taking several steps toward the exit and opened it, feeling the blast of cold air as she did so. But then she noticed The Girl wasn’t with her. She turned around, The Girl was still standing next to the instructor.

“Mother,” she said hesitantly, “I-I’d like to take dance lessons and she looked down ar the highly polished floor.
What? “asked her mother, still holding the door ajar.
“Dance lessons.” Replied MaryBeth “Dance lessons” and her mother shut the door, feeling her face once again feel the warmth of the studio. She didn’t know what to say to the hopeful little girl looking up at her. She had never been in this situation before. She couldn’t remember a time, ever remember a time when her daughter actually initiated something- least to say that something that involved other people.

Miss C walked back to where her daughter was standing, waiting timidly for a response. She looked down at her daughter, her eyes brimming, and couldn’t deny this face- a face she had never before seen.

“Okay.”

As The Girl walked up to the great oak doors, which led into the studio, the familiar urge to run away suddenly grasped her. She delayed every step she took, the snow crunching underneath her feet, until she finally reached the doors. It seemed the most difficult task ever assigned to her paled in comparison to extending her hand the few inches to the handle. The feeling to turn around was prominent now and she was halfway turned around when the doors suddenly opened. Standing on the other side, with a smile on his face, was the dance instructor. The urge to run dispelled slightly,

“Ah, come in.” he said, still smiling. “We’ve never been formally introduced, my name is J.”
They shook hands.

“Well, now that’s taken care of, shall we proceed to the studio?”

They walked down a short hallway, lined with glittering trophies of different shapes and colors. But they did have something in common- they were all awarded for first place. Once they reached the studio, J opened the door and walked through it. And with a nervous sigh, The Girl followed. Once inside, the first thing she saw was her own reflection, just as she had done when she had been looking into the studio from outside. Thankfully, there were no other people in the studio except for J and herself. As The Girl continued to look around interestedly, J walked over to the corner of the room and turned on an old boom box which, once activated, stared to play a soft melody with a distinct beat. The Girl closed her eyes upon hearing the sound- almost as if instructed, unaware of what she was doing. The only thing that mattered, the only thing of importance in the world was the sound emanating from that machine in the corner of the room. And so she stood, letting the music full her up like water a human vase. Then the music reached her head, full. The Girl exhaled, releasing the music back into the world- for it was not hers to keep, only hold for a short while. Her body was not her own but rather belonged to the music and it returned to her with each delicate step she took, with each turn performed. Then the music ended, the lights dimmed, and she heard out of the darkness, applause.