Page 403 - Some Dance to Remember

Some Dance to Remember 373

us already so properly, maybe prudently seated, against the indignity of
the crawl of latecomers.
The difficult pas de orchestra gave Ryan a vantage from which to
command silence, at first warning politely, from those who, after the
curtain rose, continued to talk, then whisper, or worse, comment, Look-
she’s-coming-through-the-door-and-she’s-wearing-a-hat, giving a blow-
by-blow running commentary as if they’d come to the theater with a
party of the blind. By the third warning, Ryan was given to saying things
like, “Madam!” They always became “Madam!” by the third warning.
“Madam! Quiet! You are not home watching television.”
Plays, even movies, were sacred events for Ryan. He did not want to
be disturbed, distracted, pulled back from the brilliant light of the stage
or screen by noisy wives dragging disinterested husbands out for a night
on the town.
A pair of straight couples inched over us and settled down apologeti-
cally. Ryan seemed pleased. They would be no trouble. The wives chatted
quietly. The husbands, on opposite ends of the pair of wives, flipped the
pages of their programs. They were not so comfortable as their wives. They
had been dressed in their three-piece suits since early morning. The wives
were fresher. Dressed for the evening. In from the suburbs of Orinda and
Milpitas. Wives, not husbands, buy season’s tickets.
Suddenly, Ryan leaned across me to Kweenie and Solly. His face was
agitated, alarmed, like someone urgently seized by a premonition based
on what? A glimpse? A lightning dart of recognizable Energy? Something
that distinguishes a special face from the anonymous heads of the dark
audience? Ryan started in his seat the way an animal downwind catches
the shocking spoor of the hunter, seconds before the glint of rifle flashes
once, and disappears through thickets of leaves.
“You’re not going to believe,” he said, “who in two seconds will come
through the side-aisle curtain.” He nodded toward the draped arch stage-
right of the first three rows.
It was Kick.
Naturally.
Of course.
Why not?
Life has no coincidences. Only collisions.
Twenty rows and three hundred people between them. All of it, the
whole theater, dimmed to soft focus. Kick knew instantly what he had
walked into. His blond handsome face hardened like a plate. I felt the
heat rise in Ryan’s body. He sat up in his seat straight as a judge. I felt him

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