Dancing was her release. It was her freedom from anxiety, from reality, from hope and despair. It was freedom. It was all her own, it belonged to no one. It was for no one. When she twisted it was not for attention, it was for the thrill and the pleasure. When she gyrated it was not for seduction but for sexuality. And when the music dropped and she went crazy, there were no thoughts, only pure and reckless abandon.
“I didn’t know you like pop music.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know. Which might come as a shock to you: the know it all.” Greta didn’t stop dancing, instead she slowed her motions and turned to face the intruder: Jack. He stood in the doorway, watching Greta move and twist. For how long he had been standing there she didn’t know. For once, she didn’t care. She let the music break over her like snowfall, cold and clarifying.
“How long are you going to be like this? I have something important to tell you.” It had been almost a week since Greta had seen Jack, and now that he saw her it wasn’t to profess undying love or even to apologize, but it was to say something important. He’d gone from best friend to MI-6 agent in less than a week.
“Like what?” Greta turned from him, letting the music get louder in her head. She didn’t want this, any of it. She didn’t want to have just witnessed a mass murder, barely escaping being the victim. She didn’t want to be a pining girl, unable to go to her best friend for comfort. Why is it that there can only be one who pines? There is only one person who cares so much that it rips them inside out, while the other person goes on living there life thinking only “I once knew someone who had a crush on me.” They never realize how much it killed the other person to know them, they never realize how much their existence destroyed theirs. Greta’s existence was being devoured by a black hole, and she didn’t want that to happen. She couldn’t believe she was letting it happen. Sure she was a little sadder than most, a little more anxious, but she wasn’t pathetic.
“You’re punishing me.”
“Why ever would I do that?” Greta backed up, sort of like a moonwalk, but not so smooth. Her moves were jerky but to the rhythm. They were unaffected and entirely guileless, she danced like she was the only one in the room. She danced because it was the only thing that pulled her away from dripping entrails on a ceiling and a broken heart. It tore her from reality. Jack could barge in to her apartment and break apart her thoughts but he wouldn’t distract her from healing.
Jack pulled her by the elbow. “We don’t have time for this. Stop being a child.” Greta yanked her elbow away.
“If you’re going to be a jerk then I’m going to be a jerk. It’s called…” Greta raised her arms in a grand display, “Maturity.” Greta picked up her phone and pressed stop on the music. The speakers soon followed. The room became silent.