Mit Ihnen Gerade Tanzen
"What's a young lady like yourself doing out here in the middle of the night, where you could be corrupted by some nasty HJs?" growled a voice from behind me, and I whipped around with a closed fist, hoping I could just make contact and run. "Ow! Jesus Christ, that's the last time I sneak up on you, sweetheart. I'm sorry." I turned to look at the boy from today, nursing a bloody and fat lip. I clapped my hand over my mouth and tugged my handkerchief out from my purse, dabbing at his lip.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't expect–I mean, I just–"
"No need to apologize to this halfwit, baby, he's always digging himself a hole," said one of the handsome boy's counterparts, one whose name still eluded me. "Don't know if we got around to it, but it's Otto." He offered his hand and I shook it. The one with the eyebrows offered his next, a genial grin crossing his boyish face.
"Peter." Next was the one with the glasses who clutched his umbrella as if for life.
"Arvid," he nodded. Behind the boys, the final one, was a girl, shaking her head good-naturedly.
"Evey," she told me, smiling kindly. I smiled at them all, feeling a bit taken by all the appearances of people all around us. "Pleased to meet you," she added, and I said the same. Her smile was warm and motherly.
"Getting back to my question now, what are you doing out here in the middle of the night all by your lonesome in this fine attire?" Thomas asked, quirking his eyebrow, as his eyes ran me up and down. "It's gettin' mighty late, isn't it, guys? Where were you heading off to at this time, sweetheart?" I shrugged. "Well, then, I suppose you wouldn't mind coming with us to a little spot we hang around at every so often."
"What did you have in mind?" I inquired. I hoped I would catch on to whatever it was they wanted me to be a part of...
"It's all a simple question, really," Thomas insisted, draping an arm over my shoulders with that lopsided grin on his handsome face, even with his lip split from my stupidity. Peter rolled his eyes in good nature. "Do you, uh, d'you like swing or are you on the side of the Hitler Jackasses?" He said it as a joke but I blushed anyways. Could he really think that I, with a mentally disabled sister, could possibly be on the side of the Hitler Jugend?
"Honestly, I–I don't really know much about it. Is it very good?" Thomas and Peter let out an identical low whistle and looked at each other in amazement. "What is it? Have I said something amiss? I'm sorry, I should be going–"
"You gotta come with us, then, we'll convert you. She'll be a hep kitten in no time," Thomas said confidently to the rest of them and Evey stifled a laugh.
"Making yourself another project, eh, Berger? What if this girl's actually smart and doesn't fall for your ridiculous charm?" she taunted him, eyebrows raised. She was so pretty, so much prettier than I was. I remembered seeing her in school one time, thinking that because she was so pretty she had to be conceited, like all other pretty girls out there. But no, she wasn't. I supposed not all pretty girls were conceited.
"Eh, this one oughta work out. Look at you, huh, Evey? Just a few weeks ago, didn't you say you'd never be caught at the Bismarck and look at you now, a total hep kitten along with us for the ride against those damn ickies!" Thomas sounded so joyful, so insistent. "She'll certainly end up just as jazzy and swingin' as you've become, kiddo." She rolled her eyes at him again but he started some little jive out in the middle of the street until Peter socked him on the shoulder, his eyes crinkled up in laughter.
"Come on, let's get going, you're making an ass out of yourself again. Adelaide, were you coming with us?" Peter inquired in a gentlemanly manner, offering up a smile. I looked about me, but this time there was no Papa and no Astrid to make a decision for me. The decision was my own to make. Thomas dramatically offered a heroic arm, bending down to a knee and raising his eyebrows expectantly.
"Yeah, I guess I'll go," I answered, taking his arm and hoping I knew what exactly I was getting myself into.
When we passed into the club, I felt extremely foreign. People were dancing and and whooping to a music that was alien to my ears. The way they moved amazed me and frightened me all at once. Girls were flung over men's shoulders, swinging their legs and arms about like rag doll. I stared with my jaw agape. Thomas looked at me with a grin.
"Wanna give it a shot?" he offered.
"I have no idea how to do that!" I exclaimed, nodding at a girl flying over a man's shoulders, doing twists and turns in the air.
"Aw, no worries, sweetheart, I'll show ya, we'll start off with all the basics. You'll be fine in my hands," he promised, flashing me a wink. I continued to stare as the men flapped their arms about in wide circles.
"Can you make it so I don't show my knickers off to nearly everyone?" I gasped, and Thomas burst out laughing. Instead of giving me a verbal answer, he grabbed onto my hand and dragged me out onto the dance floor. He began to give me some instruction on how to twirl, how to spin. I started to get the hang of it, and Thomas flung me over his shoulder, spinning around, and then set me down, slid me between his legs and back up again.
"You're doing great, just great doll, keep it up and you'll be a swing girl in no time," he whispered in my ear, and just as he did, the music changed to a slower, more mellow beat. Thomas changed our positions, slinging an arm around my waist and letting my hand drift over his with the other. His forehead met mine and those twinkling eyes smiled into mine.
"Well, thanks for teaching me," I breathed, a weird feeling rising up within me. He glided us around the dance floor, keeping me steady even when I thought I was going to go completely weak in the knees and fall to the ground. When the song ended, Thomas led me over to a table where sat Otto, Arvid, Peter, Evey, and a new girl I didn't recognize. She stood up to introduce herself as Helga. I nodded and introduced myself. She seemed pleasant enough.
After taking a break from time to time most of us got back up and dancing, except for Arvid, who usually just sat at the table talking to Helga or Otto, depending on who was off dancing, but a little later on he pushed away from the table and hobbled up to the stage with a guitar case in hand. He sat down, undid the case, and withdrew from it a gorgeous little guitar. One of the emcees sent him an introduction as "the Hitman meets Count Basie" and the crowd cheered. And then he started to play.
His guitar felt like butter on my ears and immediately I was dragged up by Evey to go dance. It wasn't what you'd call serious swing, but we were having fun and laughing. Curfew was almost up, though, and I realised this just moments before the clock decided to turn against me. I rushed to the table to grab my coat and my purse and get out the door before I felt a hand grab down on my arm.
"Where are you going?" Thomas shouted over the music.
"I have to go, I have curfew in a few minutes." He sighed and departed from the girl with whom he was dancing to get his coat from the chair he'd once occupied. The girl sent me a look of deep discontent before sauntering away to dance with some other swing boy.
"I'll walk you home," Thomas promised, and he and I exited through a back door, he with his hand on the small of my back, as though to guide me. The air outside felt refreshing, cold as it stung my cheeks, but new and not so filled with the indistinct combinations of men's colognes and women's perfumes. "While I walk you, is it alright if I talk to you, too?" I nodded.
"Of course. Anything."
"What about your sister?"
"Anything but that," I answered, looking down to my feet. It figured. The only time I was absent of Astrid, I had to have some kind of nagging reminder.
"I'm sorry," Thomas apologized, rubbing his arm up and down. "Did you have a good time tonight?" I nodded wordlessly, my face still burning from the ugly, overprotective feeling deep in my stomach. "I'm real glad you came. For someone who doesn't listen to swing, you sure dance it well."
"Thank you," I muttered. Then Thomas did something I didn't expect–he reached down and grabbed my hand into his sending me a confused look as though asking for my permission. I encouraged him, a small smile rising up onto my face. He mimicked it and my heart beat two times faster. He really was very handsome, with playful dark eyes that twinkled mischievously and long blond hair that framed his chiseled face. His collar was popped up and his ears were pink from the cold. He held onto his umbrella like the rest of them did, as though it was their instrument. I remembered the way I had once felt about the flute, back as a child. It was like a child to me.
"You know, Hitler might not see it, what with his Aryan agenda, but you are absolutely gorgeous. And that dress only makes you look lovelier in this light." And his words only made my cheeks grow redder in that light. The rest of the way we walked to my house with my face flaming and my heart pounding violently in my chest. Upon arriving at my house, Thomas pulled my other hand into his. "Looks like this is your stop. G'night, doll."
"Goodnight, Thomas," I mumbled, making the bold move to kiss his cheek. I adjourned into the house with pictures of swing boys permanently burned into my mind.