How Dancing Brought Izak and Niki Closer

The story of Izak meeting Niki continues with their dance to “Dimples,” based in part on a story from my life.

Izak

“Izak, you know, I have wanted to dance with you since the night we met.”

Niki and I stepped out of my car into the brewery’s parking lot. It was another Thursday night, which meant the usual blues band would be playing. I already knew Niki wanted our first dance to be to “Dimples.”

Walking toward the entrance with our fingers interlocked, I said, “It should work out. I checked ahead, and it’s the same band as that night. I have to tell you, though, I am nervous about dancing with you.”

“Oh? Any particular reason?”

“Other than the obvious—that you have way more experience than I do—my most recent experience dancing was back in college with Emily…”

“Yes, I remember you telling me. To ‘Sea of Love,’ and you sang to each other. So, Izak, it will be fine. And you don’t even have to sing.”

“Funny. But Niki, I’ve seen you dance. Even by yourself, I’ve never been able to move like that.”

We paused at the door.

“So, dancing as a couple back then with Emily, did you actually know what you were doing?”

“Not really, no. We just held each other and moved.”

“I expect she held her own, which means you just followed her lead. That is all you have to do tonight.”

“Just follow you…” I held the door open for her.

She smiled as she walked past. “Exactly. Just follow me.”

* * *

Niki sat with me for the last couple of songs. The band’s leader began his introduction to the next song, “Dimples.”

“So, Izak, will you be okay dancing with the beer you have had?”

Niki had enjoyed a bit of beer as well, but she had still been out there dancing during her favorite songs with the usual group of women—several of whom were there the night we met.

“I can only promise to try,” I answered. “Beer or no beer, let’s do this.”

Niki took my hand and led me out onto the dance floor. I purposely turned my back on the spectators. As the music started, Niki took both of my hands.

“Izak, no one is judging us,” she said. “It is simply a dance.”

I nodded. Niki did too, but she was nodding in time with the beat. The dance moved swiftly through simple moves, at first, just holding hands as we moved together. Then with our hands alternating like pistons—my right hand extending toward Niki as her left hand met mine. After repeating this a few times, she told me to twirl her.

Sure, I thought. I’ve seen that move before.

Then it was her turn to twirl me. I fumbled, caught off guard by what it took to make that happen smoothly—especially given our height difference. It didn’t seem to matter to her, so I let it go. Suddenly, the rhythm shifted, blurring our movements as the tempo increased.

Niki

Izak was doing well on his first try with this kind of dance. It was especially impressive since I hadn’t told him everything I planned for us. I wanted to end on something we both would remember. I decided to try something I wouldn’t generally attempt with a total beginner: a counterbalance spin.

It was a move where we shared a single axis of rotation. With our hands firmly held and our arms stretched taut, I leaned back and started the spin. For someone who had no idea what to expect, Izak took to it as if he had done it a hundred times before.

“You are doing great, Izak,” I told him. “Don’t worry about anything. We are holding each other up now.”

Izak

We must have been. I knew Niki was right. I felt the rotation take hold, though I had no idea how she had actually started it. Suddenly, a vague sense of familiarity washed over me—a phantom memory of learning a dance for an elementary school May Day event.

I locked eyes with Niki, now only aware of her joyous smile. Then, the rest of the room disappeared.

Niki

The song was winding down. Trying to end at the same time the song did, I waited… Then, to bring us out of the spin, I planted my feet and pulled Izak slightly closer, absorbing the last of our momentum. The room slowed, but my heart didn’t. As we drifted to a stop, we were nearly touching, both of us breathing heavily. I didn’t let go of his hands. I looked up at him, the sound of the band playing replaced by applause for the band and the crowd’s murmuring. I waited to see if he felt the sudden shift in the air the same way I did.

Izak

The blur of neon and faces finally locked back into place, but my focus stayed entirely on Niki. The physical force of the spin was gone, replaced by a magnetic pull that felt twice as strong. The music had stopped, but she didn’t step back.

I looked at her smile, which had softened into something quiet and questioning. Lean in, my brain urged. I closed the tiny distance left between us. Her lips were warm, tasting faintly of the beer we’d shared and the electric energy of the dance floor. For a second time that night, the room completely disappeared.

Discovering Reality: Susie’s Journey Within

It is time for an excerpt from my current work in progress. It is beginning to dawn on Susie/Susan that her life isn’t what she had grown used to.

Susan

If what I wondered was true—and like Gramma Emi said, we each had someone come back to get us—maybe I did as well. Who had gone back for me? And more important to me now, who had I gone back for? Or were they still waiting for me there?

Maybe it isn’t the same for me. That thing Gramma Emi talked about sounds good for the story she wrote, especially for the novel’s ending. But that’s all it was. There’s no way everything she talked about is real.

Are you sure, Susan?

The words didn’t come from my ears, but from right behind my eyes.

Not that you have to be… sure, that is. You can only understand what you can at any given time. And that understanding is filtered through your physical nature.

Wait a second, I thought back, panic flaring. Who are you? And what are you doing in my head? Susie and I have merged now, so you aren’t involved with us. What the hell is going on?

Are you sure? The voice echoed, cooler this time. You appear quite certain that we don’t have anything to do with you. Your merging with Susie, although significant to you, is only a small part of our reality.

Our reality? Who are you? Hey! Are you still here?

“Who are you? I was talking to you!” I screamed aloud into my empty room.

Navigating Grief: Izak’s Unexpected Connection

In the world of this story, I am not afraid of my characters dying. The love of Izak’s life, Emily, had just passed away before this novel started. Now, while attempting to get Emily’s son out of his grief of losing his mom, Izak has met someone unexpectedly, just as it can happen in real life. And in this case, an unexpected connection in my life inspired this section of my tenth work in progress.

Jake

“I tell you guys, it was like watching a master, how easy it was for Izak to meet someone.” Susie was in bed already when I returned after my blues outing with Izak.

“Okay, Jake. Details. And don’t worry, we won’t tell him you told us.”

“Liam, I’m not sure he will care. I think he was surprised as I was at how the night went.”

“Are you intentionally stalling now? You understand, I have been worried about Izak ever since Emi… Sorry, Jake—I didn’t mean to say it that way. Your mom was our friend; her loss means different things to all of us, especially to you now.”

“Mia, it’s okay. I’m getting more used to that, especially when it comes to Rose. I’m working through it. Anyway, back to my night out… So, guys, Izak told me during the band’s break that they usually play a blues standard called “Dimples’ as the second song after the break. I’m sure you would recognize it if you heard it. It came out in the late 50s, and Izak told me he and my mom had heard occasionally when they were in college.”

“I guess if it is still being played today, that says a lot about it being a standard.”

“Exactly, Liam. Izak told me to pay attention to how this singer enunciates the lyrics, especially on the line, ‘You’ve got dimples on your jaw.’ So, when that came up in the song, I could have sworn that he sang, ‘You’ve got dimples on your dog.’ So, I leaned toward Izak and asked what ‘dimples on your dog’ meant. And he just laughed at me.”

“Okay. So far so good. I hope I can speak for Mia and tell you I hope you will explain why this story is so important, sometime tonight…”

“Ah, Liam. I am getting there.”

“But very slowly, I must point out.”

“My bad, Mia. It’s just funny how it worked out; Izak wanted to get me out of my house as a diversion, and he got one instead. So, those lyrics come up in the song four times in one verse. I noticed that Izak had been watching a small group of women dancing. And after the song, one of them approached the group’s leader, who had been singing, and we were close enough to the front of the crowd to hear her ask him about the meaning of a certain line. I couldn’t believe it. She was asking about that line Izak had told me about. She said, ‘Hey, what do you mean, you’ve got dimples on your dog?’ I tell you guys, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Izak so interested in any one thing as he suddenly was interested in that woman at that moment, both hearing what we had heard and that she actually had asked for… no, demanded, to know what that meant.”

“So, could you two tell what the band leader answered?”

“Of course. He was using a headset mic, so everyone heard. He said, as Izak and I already knew, ‘It’s not dimples on your dog. It’s dimples on your jaw.”

“I got my eyes on you. So, then?”

“So you know the song… Anyway, Izak yelled out to her that he had heard it the same way she had.”

“No way. Our Izak did that?”

“Funny, but true. Izak yelled out, ‘I also heard it as ‘dimples on your dog.’ When she heard him say that, I swear this is true—she walked right over to our table, put her hand out to him, and introduced herself.”

“And?”

“Well, Mia, that was about all I heard of it, directly. Izak stood up and went out to the dance floor with her.”

“So, they danced together. Sweet…”

“No, Mia, that’s not it at all. They just talked out there, for a long time, most of the way through the second set. Then, Izak handed her his phone, and she typed something into it.”

Understanding Susie’s Journey: A Chapter Reflection

I wrote this today, Chapter 10… After this, there is a new part where things will abruptly change for Susie and her family.

10

Susie

Daddy… Dad was smiling at me, but his eyes didn’t match.

“Susan? Are you still here?”

I took a deep breath, sighing in a hiss that was sharper than I intended. Wait. Than I intended?

“Dad, no… It’s me, Susie. She was just here, wasn’t she? It’s okay. I know she was here. It’s just weird when she does this, and I am completely cut off from knowing what we talked about. The transition is so abrupt. I guess I am missing time.”

“Susie, should I tell you about what happened, what she—You, I mean, what you talked about?”

“No, Dad. I would rather not know. If she wanted me to know, she would have let me in on it.”

“Okay, Susie. I worry about you, kiddo. All of this has to be hard on you.”

“Thanks, Dad. It definitely is. But I worry more about you and Mom. You deserve a normal kid. Not what Matt or Gramma Emi would have called a ‘Crackpot.’” Dad stretched his arms around me, his hug soothing me. I missed his hugs sometimes.

“Susie, you are the most normal kid we have…”

I was their only kid. Somehow, I knew that would never change.

Understanding Susie’s Spiritual Journey

The story continues with Susie’s Higher Self first interrupting and then participating in a talk given by her Grampa Izak, at which her parents were present…

Susie

Susan is shifting in me again. This time I feel different—I am closer to her. I knew it would happen someday. Energy flows into me—from her. Knowing it is from Susan reassures me, but my head feels crowded. I am still me, but I am connecting more to the older version of me I am becoming. I don’t know everything she does yet…

Mom and Dad are coming toward me. They are beaming, but a hint of sadness in my mom’s smile betrays the tears they’re both holding back. Now I get it. Somehow, they both know I am older. Mom is proud, but sad.

Mom kneels, her head tilted as if she’s looking at a stranger. “I’m still here,” I say, the words feeling heavy in a mouth that was just hers. “I’m just… more.”

“Is it okay if we still call you Susie?”

“Of course.” As she pulls me in, her perfume—A subtle, clean, and timeless rose scent—washes over me. I recognize the scent, but it is Susan’s memory, not mine…

Exploring Higher Self in Fiction: Susie’s Journey

My novel continues… At the age of 10, Susie had just taken the next step toward becoming aware of her “Higher Self.”

Izak

After my talk at the center, Jake invited me to go to that café down the street from Matt and Lisa’s Place with him, Rose, and Susie. Susie and I were walking together, several steps back from Jake and Rose. Susie would usually have run to the corner first, then looked back at us. This time, she was hanging back with me, holding my hand as we walked… the distance between her parents and us increasing. It’s hard for me to think of her as Susie after what happened just now—how she talks—a grown-up in a child’s body. We stop. Susie tilts her head up at me the way she does. Actually, now that I have seen Rose do the same thing, I realize Susie may have gotten that gesture from her mom.

“Izak?”

“Yes—Susie?”

“If it will help, you can call me Susan. I feel more like her now.”

“Okay. I will try that. By the way, did you know I was thinking about that just now?”

“I had an idea about it, yes. Don’t get me wrong, though. It isn’t as if I was reading your mind, or anything like that. I was only applying how I feel about what happened earlier, to how you might feel interacting with me now.”

She turned to gauge the widening lead her mom and dad had on us, tugged my hand, and we resumed our walk at a faster pace. “Susie—This will take a while. Susan, your way of talking, vocabulary, and sentence structure are so different. And your understanding of how my earlier interaction with you may have changed how I relate to you now is so… unlike that of someone your age might have. Do you know why that happened?”

“Not really, Izak. Susie understands only that it is from her other self, and that physically, she is the same. The Susie part of me is developing a better sense of her older self, how she thinks, and how we will be as we continue our merging. It feels weird to me, as well, but also natural. One thing I have become aware of is that, as Susie, I had always mispronounced your name as, I-Zak.”

 “Susan… I always thought the way you said my name was endearing.” She tilted her chin and let her head drift in a slow, knowing bob, an unconscious echo of her grandmother Emily’s mannerisms.

“At first, Susie knew she had said it wrong. Nobody corrected her. Besides that, she noticed that you laughed the first time she said your name that way. It made her feel good to hear you laugh.”

“So, after that, she said it wrong on purpose—You have me doing it now. Is how you are talking about Susie in the third person intentional?”

“Yes, it is. It is inevitable at this point as Susie and I continue to merge, and she takes on more of my personality. Her saying your name the way she did is a simple example of one of her quirks that I no longer need. The changes you see are due to me, taking more control.”

“I do miss how Susie used to call me Grampa, though.”

Susan and I had nearly caught up to her parents by the time Jake held the door for Rose. As we reached the entrance, I turned to her, preparing to open the door for her. The corners of her mouth quirked up, and stifling a laugh, she said, “I-Zak—if you stick with calling me ‘Susan,’ then I’ll call you ‘Grampa Izak.’”

A Magic Encounter: Finding Love in Unexpected Places

When I met Judy, I knew my life would be changed forever.

She was “The One.” I knew it after talking to her for only five minutes. And I thought I could tell that she knew the same thing. I wouldn’t have to prove her search was also over; she already knew.

Three years earlier, I had moved from the San Francisco Bay Area to my new hometown, about 90 miles north of Sacramento. It had taken several short-term jobs to find a permanent one at a retail nursery. It didn’t pay much, but for the first time since my move, I knew I was committed to staying here. I was also fine with the pay because the job was at least related to my Forestry degree from UC Berkeley.

Working at a nursery isn’t what I had planned for my degree. I had several jobs during my upper-division college classes and a couple of temporary forestry jobs after graduation. Things had gotten a bit weird: trying to find forestry jobs, being laid off after the season, collecting unemployment while trying to get jobs unrelated to forestry to satisfy unemployment insurance requirements…

On March 19, 1983, I was filling in for a coworker who was out. I had just finished with a customer and returned outside to the sales area. I saw a flash of red hair to my left. I had always had a thing about redheads. And this redhead looked like she needed help. Of course, I got over to provide that help before any of my other coworkers got to her. I only ignored three other customers on my way to her.

She was looking for a white camellia in bloom. It had to be blooming because she needed proof it really was white. I didn’t blame her. I knew that we had gotten mislabeled plants from wholesale nurseries before. We didn’t have anything blooming in the main sales area. I told her I had seen some white camelias in our “growing area.” I told her to follow me, and I would find one for her.

This nursery was one of the older ones in town, and it had an extremely narrow sidewalk from the front sales area to the lath house, our growing area for camelias, so we had to walk single file. On the way, she asked me a question. Without thinking about this or how important it was to our potential future together, I flipped around and walked backward as I attempted to answer her question.

Continuing to the camellia area, I found several white camellias in bloom and, at her request, chose the one I thought was the best. It was labeled as “Snow White.” She was happy. I was as well. I just knew she was interested in me. There was one problem, though… I hadn’t thought through how or when I would ask for her phone number. Ah, I had it. I would ask her when I carried her plant out to her car.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I walked, and this isn’t that much to carry. I don’t live far from here.”

I had blown my chance. She gave me cash for her purchase. While I waited briefly for my turn at the cash register, I saw that she was writing something on a piece of note-paper she had asked another employee for. I rang up the sale and walked back to her, giving her change and a receipt. She put her change away, and before she turned away from me, she reached up and put that small piece of paper in my shirt pocket.

“Who was that, Richard. Do you know her?”

I took the paper out of my pocket, unfolded it, and saw her name, address, and phone number. I held it up to show my coworkers and said, “I do now…”

It all seems like it happened yesterday. It was 43 years ago, last March 19th.

My mom took this photo of us a few months later. I have to admit, I took a picture of my mom’s snapshot, and the original is out of focus. This was enhanced using WordPress’s AI.

Our time together was magic.

She developed many health issues in the last few years of her life. One of those things impacted her memory. But one thing she never forgot was how I walked backward on the day we met, while I was taking her to find a white camellia in bloom.

Both of our lives were changed that day.

She passed away 7 years ago, after 36 years together.

(A note about the camellia: It had been labeled “Snow White.” It turns out it wasn’t that at all, but a “Nuccio’s Gem,” which, ironically, was a variety she would have preferred. It turned out we had one all the time, and I didn’t find out until about five years after her death.)

Exploring Character Depth through Discovery Writing

Work on my current “Work in Progress” continues. I am beginning to see where it is going, anyway.

Izak was wrapping up his remarks—at least, the part he’d shared with me. Susie hadn’t looked away from him once.

“Emily said she knew I’d understand,” he said, his voice straining. “That leaving us the way she did would be easier on everyone.” He caught his breath, holding it until it escaped in a sharp hiss that echoed through the microphone. He gave a small, tired chuckle and lowered his shoulders.

“Not really for you, Grampa I-Zak,” Susie’s small voice cut through the silence.

Rose leaned toward Susie and, grasping her shoulder, admonished her,  “Susie, it’s not polite to interrupt people when they are speaking, especially here.”

Susie looked up at Rose, her eyes wide, then bit her bottom lip, turning away, staring down at the floor before her, before responding sorrowfully, “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

Izak uncurled his hold from the support of the podium and flexed his fingers before taking his first tentative steps toward our seats. Rose continued, “Susie, what do you say to Izak?”

 “Rose, it’s okay.” Izak continued walking toward us. Rose’s shoulders relaxed. Izak stopped in front of Susie. His knees popped as he slowly lowered himself in front of her, smiling warmly, gazing at her as he said, “You are right about that, Susie.”

Susie grabbed either side of her folding chair’s seat and pushed down to scrunch herself forward so she could get her feet on the floor. She stood and encircled as much of Izak’s shoulders as she could in a warm hug, burying her face against his neck. “I miss Gramma Emi too, Izak.”

Izak let their hug linger before pulling back, his eyes moist. When he finally pulled away, the dampness in Izak’s eyes mirrored the heavy air in the room. He didn’t wipe them; he simply let the emotion sit there, raw and acknowledged, between him and Susie.

Susie’s Journey: Understanding Her Potential Future Self

Rose

“Mommy?” Susie’s brow scrunched a bit, seemingly deep in thought. Or maybe she was just squinting against a stray hair. I tucked a lock behind her ear and kept brushing.

“Yes, baby?”

“Why are we here?”

“Do you mean, right now? We are getting you ready for school.”

“I know that. But more than that.”

“More than just school?”

“Yes. I understand I have to learn stuff. But why do I have to go to school? I know lots of stuff already.”

“I know that is true. You show me and Daddy that every day.”

“She knows lots of stuff, too.”

“She? Who do you mean?”

“Umm, the big me.”

I paused mid-stroke, the brush hovering over her shoulder. She said it so casually, as if she were talking about a friend from the playground. “Ah, I see—Does she talk to you about why you are here?”

“Umm… I guess. Not all the time. Sometimes the old me shows me stuff she calls ‘our lessons.’ It is like school.”

“Ah, maybe I understand what you are saying then. You wonder why you have to go to school here and wherever you go with your older self—Is that true?”

“Yes… I’m not complaining. I am only curious.”

“Your questions are what make you, you, Susie. Maybe you can see that ‘other you’ because you’re so good at looking for answers.” She cocked her head to the side, searching her own eyes in mirror’s reflection as if looking for the ‘big’ version of herself.

“Mommy, how do you know that?”

“I know because I remember hearing how it was for Grampa Matt and Lisa when they were your age. They had the same realization of who they were; that they had lessons to learn in their other existence.”

“Am I like them?”

“Sweety, I’m not sure about those things, but I suspect that to become that other version of yourself, you have to do well in school here as well as there.”

“Mommy, do the other kids go to school in other places like me?”

“I don’t know, sweety. They may.”

“Did you? When you were small, like me?”

“You know what, Susie? I don’t remember. But Grandpa Matt’s friend Lisa didn’t remember until he started working with her, so who knows?”

“I think Dad is starting to remember; he had some exposure to the concepts from Emily and Thomas, and later with Matt. I might be able to help both of you remember.”

The transition was that fast… My brushing stopped, my hand trembling. “Maybe—Maybe you can.” She didn’t look like a child in the mirror anymore; her eyes held a weight that didn’t belong in an eight-year-old’s face.

“I will see what I can do. And Mom, I know you and Dad were concerned about how this is impacting Susie—don’t worry about her. She is adjusting well, and knows to keep certain aspects of her other self private.”

“Thank you for sharing that, Susan. We were worried about that. This is weird…”

“Yes, it is strange for me as well. Susie is aware I am here, of course. Oh, Mom, it’s getting late. We should go…”

Overcoming Writer’s Block: Finding Focus in Creative Stalls

For the past month, I have not been able to make progress on my newest novel. Some may think of this as having writer’s block. I’m not sure I agree with that label.

I keep my Work in Progress in mind at all times when I am writing. I know that I will eventually find out what I need to do to continue. In the meantime, I usually reread what I already have, as if that may prime the creative process again. At least, I can see if the reason I am stalled relates to something I have already written. It might be something simple. It could also be a major logic error that is easier to fix now than waiting until the end.

I caught something in this one. I had started the first chapter of Part 3. I realized it should have been the last chapter in Part 2. Sometimes these things matter. Even finding that and fixing it didn’t move me to the point I could continue.

Yesterday, I had an idea about where I need to go from here. Sometimes, all it takes is having a different focus. If it takes a month to see the way forward, it is better than scrapping the entire thing.