Caro slipped back into the kitchen after she came out to signal Bonney that it was time to be seated. The lump in her throat in contrast with the smile on her face, had left her with a nasty headache. The weight of the past few weeks made her a little weary, which was unlike her. He was her favorite cousin, Bonney, and she loved him, it was right that she helped that much with his wedding. Her heart almost hurt through it all but she did it. After all, what right had she to be so much in love with someone who regarded her as a younger sister?


She had played with the idea of them married and settled a million times but it always boiled down to whether or not he loved him as much as she did, and most importantly, if their family would have allowed them to get married, seeing that they were close cousins, and had grown up together, making them more like siblings. He had always been her big brother, and admiration for him had developed into something more than she could handle. She hadn’t been sure exactly what it was she felt till the day their parents threw an anniversary party and he had danced with her; a slow, almost sensual dance that had left her in confusing knots and jolting shivers. She was stupidly in love.


She laughed mirthlessly over the pot of goat light soup she had bent over to taste; the ladle feeling a little too heavy in her hand all of a sudden. She pulled a stool and sat. Maybe she shouldn’t have offered to help in the kitchen. The bride’s family was not too friendly and had left her alone where the soup was, on the one-burner local gas stove in the corner of the kitchen, to tend to it. But she was a little content for the silence, although it had got her thinking too much and had granted her emotions room to come out and play.


Bisola, Bonney’s bride, had an interesting reputation but Caro had been consciously blind to that. She was in no position to judge another woman for her decisions and actions. She, of all people, who had settled in an affair that made her question her sanity time and over; an affair that was scandalous to begin with.

She placed the lid on the soup pot and turned the burner off. The soup was ready and there was nothing left for her to do. The aroma of it reminded her of Saturday mornings. And coincidentally, it was another Saturday morning; just a different one, a painfully different one.  She wiped her hands on the apron, slipped it off, and headed out. She could hear the music as she approached, and laughter, and cheering. As she neared, she breathed more steadily, willing herself to let everything go. When she finally stepped out front to where the ceremony was being held, they were there; Bonney and his bride, she was pressed into him in an embrace and Caro could tell, from where she was standing, she could see clearly the love that had enveloped the newly wed. Bonney was whispering something in her ears.


Caro swallowed the lump that had started shrinking and looked past the couple to where he stood. If she couldn’t have the son, she’d have the father. The music changed to a slow one. He was looking back at her, with his right arm stretched out, signaling for her to come so they dance. She had never danced with him in all two, almost three years of their affair. His wife, Bonney’s mother, was dancing with Bisola’s father. Caro moved to him and placed her hand in his. He placed his free hand on the small of her back and they started moving and she felt it – knew it. It was the dance that did it. It had to be the dance that always did it! She had confirmed her insanity. She was in love…with them both.


10 thoughts on “THE DANCE

  1. i like the twist that makes this one different from any stories about unrequited love. good work… *remaining comments censored*


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