The Last Dance

“Dad?”

“Yes, Jane?”

“Why don’t you dance?”

“Just like that”

“Aunt Betty tells me you used to dance all the time before Mum died. Why don’t you dance now?”

“Why do you even want to know?”

“Because I kinda have this feeling that it has something to do with Mum. That’s correct, isn’t it?”

“Sigh. Alright. I don’t dance because the last dance I had was with your mother and it was very special.”

“That’s when you proposed her, right? You took her to this cliff on the Southern Island and swirled her about the edge as you popped up the question? What if she had said no, Dad? You wouldn’t have thrown her off the cliff, would you?”

“Ha Ha! If I wasn’t sure that she would say yes, I would have swirled her about my bed and asked her to marry me. But that’s not the dance I was referring to.”

“Then?”

“After about two years of our marriage, we went to this amazing roof-top restaurant downtown. It was a really romantic place with just the two of us on the terrace past midnight. As we were dancing on The Way You Look Tonight, she told me that we were about to have a baby; we were about to have you.”

Jane had tears in her eyes. “So you’ll never dance again?”

“Not unless I am happier than I was then.”

_ _ _

Eight years later, after Peter walked Jane down the aisle, the happy father waltzed around the Reception hall with his daughter.

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