Young Writers Society

A/N: This is my entry for the poetry-inspired prose contest. The inspiration was "April Midnight" by Arthur Symons. Link

If I can hold on to only one memory before I go, let it be that night we danced.

It was a strange night in London, free of the rain and misery that comes part and parcel with the city. For once, you could see the stars outside of their usual veil of smog and clouds.

"Oh, Robert, it looks so perfect outside! Let's go out there!"

"At this time of night, Lizzy? Are you crazy? Nothing good crawls on the streets of London at midnight. Besides, I have to go to work in the morning."

"Oh, come on, it's not like we're sleeping anyway. You'll have a million days to work, darling. But how many nights have you seen like this?" She fluttered her eyelashes and pouted in that way she always did when she wanted something.

"You do have a point." I sighed in acquiescence. "I suppose a few minutes couldn't hurt." And with that, we grabbed our jackets and went out into the crisp April night.

We walked for a while in silence, hand in hand. The street was strangely empty, just the two of us and the wind blowing around her auburn curls. After months of splitting time between the biting cold of winter outside and the suffocating furnaces inside, the air felt perfectly refreshing, bringing in a new year of life and love.

All of a sudden, Lizzy's hand broke free from mine and she ran towards the streetlight. "Robert, watch this!" She called out before running into a cartwheel.

"What are you doing?" I yelled. "You're just asking to get hurt. And it's not decent."

"Oh, who cares about decency, no one's watching. I want to move! I want to dance! Come dance with me, Robert!" Before I had a chance to respond, she pulled me closer to the lamppost.

"But...but I can't dance! And we don't even have music!" I protested.

"Just follow me, Robert. We don't need music at midnight." She wrapped her arms around me and led me down the street. As the man, I knew I should have been leading, but it seemed so natural to follow her. She was the natural born dancer. I had nothing to do but soak in her perfume and look into those perfect blue eyes. I dreamed then of a future--a house in the countryside perhaps, maybe even children. I had never wanted those things with any woman I had dated before, but now I wanted nothing else.On that night, I knew that I couldn't live without her.

On her birthday in July, I proposed, and we danced again. The next spring, on a lovely April day, we were married. Fifty years have passed and we raised three beautiful children--Harry, Tom and Lily. It wasn't easy, but I still can't imagine dancing with anyone else.

Now, the doctors say I'll soon be dancing alone. She'd fought off the cancer once before, but it's resurging and they say her body can't take the most aggressive treatment. She says she doesn't want to die like that anyway, all wrapped up in tubes and machines. She wants to leave this earth with some dignity. I understand, but it doesn't make the reality of being without her any easier.

I cry in the bathroom, quietly, in hopes that she won't hear me. Years of memories race through my mind, from the petty fights to the days when I felt like work would tear me apart and her arms were the only thing that could hold me together. Soon, those memories were all I would have.

"You know I can hear you, darling," she says from the other side of the door. "I'm still here, you know. You don't have to cry yet. I don't want you to cry for me, anyway." Even as she tries to sound comforting, I can hear her voice wavering.

"Oh Lizzy, what are we going to do?" I said. What I mean is what am I going to do? I was barely a man when I met her, after all. I suppose I will be able to navigate this world alone, but it won't be easy.

"We'll figure it out, Robert. We always have." She sighs and opened the door. "In the meantime, look outside." I grab my cane and hobble over to the window. The full moon shines over the city, and the breeze blowing in takes me back to that day so long ago. "Let's go out and enjoy it," she adds.

"In your condition? And this late at night?"

"Nonsense! I feel fine tonight. And I want to make the most of what I have. Come on, dear, we won't be long." I sigh and get our coats. Surely a few minutes can't hurt.

"Think I could still do a cartwheel?" She jokes as we step down the stoop.

"Oh don't you dare!"

"No, no, not with these old limbs. But I bet you we can still dance, right darling?" I recall how we whirled around as young lovers. I don't think we can move that fast anymore.

She takes her wrinkled hands in mine and we sway in place. The lamppost still highlights her blue eyes. I squeeze her hands as tight as I can. I don't know if I'll ever be ready for what lies ahead, but I know we'll always have London and midnight in April.