Movement | A Short Story

Movement

By:Florence Beatch-Bruneau

Cold and kind of painful but it brought a deep relief to his blistered feet and his aching mind like finally scratching an itch that’s been bothering you. No one really understands the soothing effect of an ice bath until they’re as sore as Dylan was right then. The music still vibrating through his muscles, his body quaking from the arduous hours of movement. He liked it like this, when his mind and body were in unison. When his mind didn’t stray to negativity, when it was just calm. He had found only one remedy to the constant noise of his insecurities and fears; dance.  He lived for it now that he had discovered the movement’s tranquility. He tried to spend as much time in the studio as he could.

As his feet soaked in the water his mind drifted to his most recent experience in the studio. He had found a song that echoed within him inspiring the passionate drive to choreograph it.  Dylan now felt as though he knew every inch of the soft floorboards. In the stillness before the song began he looked at his reflection in the mirrored walls. Examining his lean physique, he bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting. His messy black locks stuck out with a mind of their own and eyes were made of liquid butterscotch. Today was one of those days where he looked at himself and didn’t think he was half-bad, he was actually kind of cute in a boyish-way; though his opinion would most likely change by morning -his moods were fickle that way.  He thought of his boyfriend Wren with his strong build and mousey brown hair that perfectly matched his captivating green flecked eyes and his stubborn mannish ways. He and Wren were made for each other, he thought, they both knew it yet still they were falling apart. Dylan’s reflection on his waning relationship filled the room with a deep melancholy.

The music started nice and slow, and his body rotating backwards as he lifted on to the tip of his toes, dropping to the floor. The music drew his breath causing his chest to lift off the ground. A Flash of Wren yelling at him as his chest dropped back down and he rolled up. “You’re a coward, Dylan! We can’t stay in the shadows forever or is that what you want,              to keep me hidden?”

Memories again filling his senses; “I love you Dylan but this isn’t working…I want people to know about us, I want it for us. I want it for you! ” Dylan took his head into his hands and shook it, bringing him back to the song. As its tempo picked up so did his. Running into a grand jetté, landing and rolling; his back arched, his pointed feet pushing him back up from the ground. Standing still and then moving forward two deliberate steps.

“I know its scary, but don’t you love me, their opinion shouldn’t change us!! Aren’t I enough for you?” 

Dylan ran into an oversplit jump and as he lands in a plié he reached down to the floorboards, trailing the tips of his delicate fingers gradually wiping away the sadness in his heart.

 I want to be with you Wren,” He murmured despondently as he spun across the room diagonally, his muscular arms spread out in second position. “But I can’t… I can’t tell them yet, don’t you understand? Can’t you wait with me!”

His deliberate moves slowly transform to moves of passion as they blank out thoughts and insecurities leaving only clarity. Spin, after jump, after rolls and bridges. Dylan danced away the fight and his mind began to revolve around the movements his body was making.  Nothing but the song and the dance floor. No boyfriend, no parents, no pressure and no anxiety. As the room resonated with the last drifting note, he collapsed to the ground for a final time. At last feeling grounded. For the first time in weeks no inner conflict.

 Dylan audibly lets out his breath as ice water brings his mind back to the present, and he once again feels blessed by the stillness his passion provides him.