And then Johnny’s face appeared in her mind’s eye. Johnny. He was inside, and she couldn’t wait to see him. She checked her lipstick and bared her teeth in the rear view mirror, making sure none of the bold red had found its way onto a tooth. All clear. With a fortifying inhale, she stepped from the car and placed the key just under the gas pedal. She wasn’t too worried. No one stole cars in Honeyville, certainly not in 1958.
The sidewalk leading up to the entrance was lined with lanterns and a thick red carpet, the kind that brought to mind movie premiers and Hollywood starlets. At the entrance to the gymnasium was a huge pirate’s chest, spilling out all manner of treasures; golden goblets and plastic gold coins, beads and baubles littered the ground around the base of the trunk. Maggie peered through the open door and slowly walked into the highly decorated hall. The entrance had been made to look like a sunken ship, and for a moment she could not see the people beyond its gaping hull. Then she was inside, silhouetted in the doorway, staring out at the swirling dresses in a myriad of pastel shades; ruffles and sparkles and white sports coats were everywhere. She looked down at her own dress and back at the dresses of the girls being escorted to and from the dance floor. She stood out like a sore thumb.
She caught a few curious glances and felt the same fear that had gripped her in the car. And then she saw him. He was on the other side of the room, but her position on the gang plank elevated her enough to see him clearly. He had stopped and was staring at her, and then he was moving, not breaking eye contact, coming toward her. She watched him make his way through the milling crowd, until he stopped several feet in front of her. Her fear faded like yesterday’s daylight, and the heat of his gaze sputtered and sparked something deep within her belly. She smiled at him.
Johnny smiled back. It was a slow, curving smile that lifted the corners of his well-shaped lips and marked his lean cheeks with deep grooves on either side of his mouth. For a minute, the world righted itself, and Maggie had the distinct sensation of time stopping, adjusting its track, and beginning again. The moment was so ripe with possibility, the flavor of forever so sweet upon her senses, that it was all Maggie could do to not walk right into Johnny’s arms and lay her smiling lips on his, sealing him to her for eternity.
Instead she said, “Are you going to ask me to dance?” Her voice was amazingly steady, as if she traveled through time to dance with her lover on a regular basis.
Johnny held out his hand, and she closed the distance between them. She took it without hesitation, the contact making her catch her breath in wonder, and she knew he felt it too. He seemed to hesitate when they reached the dance floor, as if the song that had begun was not his preference. Oh, but it was hers. She had been waiting so long to dance with him again. Her skin was on fire, the music sending flames licking their way down her body. He looked down at her, and his eyes held a question. She raised her chin, urging him forward, and that was all it took. She was swinging in and out of his arms, flying in time with the drummer who knew his craft. She knew Johnny’s body, the way he moved, the way he danced, and she reveled in the knowledge, matching him step for step and throwing herself into every move he asked of her.
People gathered around them, but her eyes were locked on him, and she didn’t want to look away. The song ended and they were surrounded by applause, and someone hollered out, “I taught Johnny everything he knows.”
Johnny seemed to recognize the voice and shook his head, laughing as he pulled her into his arms, wrapping his arms around her waist. She lifted her arms and settled them on his shoulders, a sloppy imitation of an embrace. The Bell Tones crooned out in harmony, and the couples around them turned away to dance or leave the floor. Johnny looked down into Maggie’s face, and his arms tightened, pulling her closer.
His eyes were on her mouth, and Maggie lifted her chin, inviting him, and her eyes slid closed.
“Johnny,” she whispered, and he froze above her.
“You know my name?”
Maggie nodded slowly, realizing her error. “Yes...I do.”
“Should I know yours?” Johnny wasn’t flirting. His brow was furrowed as if something niggled at him, as if somehow he had missed something vitally important, and had just realized it.
“No.....would you like to know mine?” Maggie was flirting, and she smiled a little to make the cheesy pick-up line a little less cheesy.
“I would very much like to know yours.” Johnny’s brow furrowed again, as if he wasn’t used to playing the anxious admirer.
“My name is Maggie.”
“Maggie....That’s right,” Johnny said, and then looked surprised. “Are you sure we haven’t met?”
“Now that you mention it....I’m not so sure....I feel like I’ve known you for a long time.” Maggie meant to continue the playful exchange, but her words rang too true, and she felt a sudden rise of nostalgia engulf her and her eyes sting with emotion.
Johnny had stopped dancing, and Maggie’s arms dropped to her sides. His hands found hers, and the music whirled around them. “Earth Angel, Earth Angel...” The song echoed as if it came from somewhere far off, and Maggie gripped Johnny’s hands, willing time to let her be.
Suddenly, from around them shouts rose up, and the singer at the mic was rather rudely pushed aside. The band ceased playing and a dull roar rose up from the dance floor. Johnny tore his gaze from hers, and together they turned toward the bandstand.