Barbizon, France
June 1966
The evening dancing classes were mostly made up of doddering old couples, waltzing to their own secret slower music - rather than to the rhythm of what Magda played, but she looked on them kindly, the husbands and wives still so happy to recapture some nostalgia from their early days.
The rest were middle aged, forcing a way to bond with each other or rather keep themselves occupied, but they took no joy in what they did, for the men it was a competitive task, and for the women a failed attempt to regain physical compatibility.
Magda looked on them with a little sadness, but at least they were trying.
Her classes during the day were mostly teenagers and skilled adults, so these evenings were a pleasant break.
As the couples discordantly twirled around the dance hall, a figure slid into the dim romantic light unnoticed, thin jacket slung over one shoulder in the summer heat.
His eyes sought her easily, the way a cat can spot he flutterings of an injured bird; instructing some blundering moustached man how not to stand on his wife's feet, her hair was longer than when he saw her last, as was more the fashion, he supposed. It almost suited her, but her small, sharp face looked a little swamped by it all, as if she was hiding behind it.
Erik was halfway to her, making his way around the edge of the floor before she saw him; just a flicker of recognition, she didn't look back again. But she knew.
He wondered if he looked different to her, stranger, older, and for the first time since his arrival, Erik felt wary, close to fearful, but it was too late now.
His hand snaked around her waist, it felt the same, she excused herself from the couple and turned.
She placed a hand on each shoulder and looked to him, he felt more powerful under her touch and his face had changed - but not in any way she could describe.
Like something had shifted behind his skin.
But his smile was hungry all the same. His hair dark was slicked from his face, she could see him so clearly.
They began to sway gently to the music.
Eyes fixed on each other.
"You don't seem surprised to see me?"
"I've learned not to impose expectations on you Erik."
"Is that so?"
"All that can be anticipated are your absences -
The times you are with me I am to joyful to find patterns"
He pulled her body closer to hers.
Holding onto her was the only way to describe it, they were no longer dancing.
"I am sorry my darling"
The sincerity of the words was in their brashness - said as softly as he knew how.
Magda pushed them apart gently, to continue the waltz with an appropriate distance.
"I was hoping to exceed expectations this time..."
She twirled away carefully then back into their formal embrace.
"I care not for idle promises..."
"When have I been known to make them?
I keep my word Magda."
"And what would this "exceptional" word be?"
He grinned keeping his teeth hidden from her, then quietly-
"Husband."
She did not acknowledge his words in any audible way, but her posture stiffened a little, her eyes missed his.
When the song ended, Magda broke away and tended to her students, ensuring they had the times for the next classes, nobody had forgotten their things? Good. Dr. Barlot would be sure to return the records for tomorrow?
And then emptiness.
Silence.
"Magda...?"
"We are married Erik."
"A real marriage; one where I get to see you more than once in 10 months! Like what we had before..."
Magda turned to look at him, eyes heavy.
"We were children. naive - We cannot get back what we once we had."
"Perhaps not - why not build something better?"
He was closer now, kinder.
"I can only run with you for so long Erik, I'm so tired"
"We can have a house, a bed, a garden... All in the same place. No more fear, no more running."
Their faces were centimetres away.
Magda's voice was quiet, not leaving an echo in the empty dance hall.
"All I want is you."
"Then me you shall have darling."