I’m like how my little Unemployment Project is coming along. Something to take my mind off the frustrating difficulties of trying to get back to work. But I find myself in a place where I want to do more on this project, but I really want to have a job.

Quite a few years back I use to be into Salsa dancing. I use to take classes at a local dancehall with a dear friend of mine and go dancing at the same dancehall on Salsa night. It was a fun time I but soon grew tired of it. The scene wasn’t for me. Before I stop going all together I would still go to hang out and watch others dance the night away to the salsa beat. Everyone looking and dancing great. It was beautiful.

One night, while sipping on a Cuba Libré, I watch the guys scanned the dancehall for ladies to dance with. The guys selected the ladies for a dance almost always the same way; beautiful and skilled dancers first, beautiful second, and then skilled dancers third. Some ladies didn’t fall into any of these categories and would spend the evening sitting at a table all dressed up, hoping that a guy would ask them for a dance. Sometimes it would happen but most often not.

This night my eye caught sight of a young lady in a blue-black dress. The dress was lovely but didn’t quite fit her. Like it belong to an older sister that would wonder why her dress isn’t in her closet. This ill-fitting dress gave the young lady an even moreso youthful appearance and the drink she was sipping on, which look like a coke in a tall glass, made me surmise that she was underaged for a dancehall with a bar.

She sat watching the movement on the dancefloor with awe. Spins and crossbody leads went in time with the music. Red and gold lights catching the sweat on everyone and making them shimmer like flares in a fire. The young lady in the blue-black dress was in awe of the skill presented in front of her and wished that someone would invite her to partake in the amazement. Sadly, no one noticed her.

She sat at her table beside the dancefloor for a long time. She didn’t fall within one of the three criteria that the guys looked for, for a dancing companion. She wasn’t as beautiful as some of the women around her and from the way she held herself, you could tell she wasn’t a skilled dancer. She was going to sitting at her table all night, sipping on her coke with no one asking her for a dance. It was her first time in a dancehall and it was getting miserable minute by minute. Eventhough I didn’t have love for the dance I wasn’t going to let her have a miserable time. I put my drink down and started walking over to her table.

I was almost to her table when a guy approached her table. An Adonis of a man, I caught sight of him before she did. I watched as her body shifted in her seat. She didn’t want to looked shock but she did want to look available to say yes to a dance. She tried to make eye contact with the guy and he briefly returned it in kind. I didn’t noticed it right away because of my angle, but her head sunked down into her chest. The Adonis had made eye contact with the young lady in the ill-fitting blue-black dress, but quickly made eye contact with someone behind her. A stunning looking blonde in a short blue tube dress that hugged every curve of her body. She put out her hand with the Adonis taking it, pulling her onto the dancefloor past a young lady hiding her tears from everyone she thought saw her embarassment.

I moved in front of her and asked her for a dance. She looked up with eyes looking to release all the tears held within them. She said she really didn’t know all the steps and she was thinking of leaving anyway. I told her I’ll lead and we’ll fake the rest. I smiled and she smiled taking my hand while I lead her onto the dancefloor.

We danced two songs clumsly as I taught her some moves. She laughed when she got a flashy looking step right and thanked me for the dance. I told her I had to go but hoped she had a good time. She said, “I did now.” I left the dancehall and that was the last night I went there.

Today, I walk into a coffee shop and I sit down to read my book. A few moments later I can feel that someone’s eye are upon me. I look up and see a lady standing in front of me. It’s the young lady in the ill-fitting blue-black dress all grown up. She smiles and says, “This might seem strange but I think I know you.” As she said that, I smiled and told her, “You do, but sadly I don’t dance Salsa anymore.”

She smiles even brighter then before and nods. She turns to her daughter and says, “This here is a good person.” She leans forward, gives me a kiss on the cheek and whispers, “Thank you for…for the dance.” She then walks out of the coffeeshop with her young daughter looking over her shoulder, waving goodbye.