Two weeks passed in a rush. At the same time, while having dinner with my mom. "Cloe darling, it has been a while since I've seen Ziggy visited here. I noticed you're always with Nixon now. Oh, I miss that kid; I suppose to ask him to help me in rearranging the furniture." There's a bit of sorrow in her expression.
And it feels like there's a needle pricking at my chest. I've wanted to say out the word, I miss him too, but I know it will make her lonelier if she'll see me in solitude. So I strive to be cheerful and shot a pun."Don't worry, mom, and I'm sure my cute muscles are handy enough for that job." Showing her my imperceptible biceps.
However, it seems that I am not that convincing enough, for she looks more concerned now. "Darling, are you and Ziggy having some misunderstanding?"
"No, mom, we're fine; maybe he's just busy besides; he and Bettina are together now. So probably, he's always with her." I haven't finished my word when she interrupts me, saying.
"And You and Nixon, right? So you know, whatever the situation you and Ziggy have now. I'm certain that friendship like the two of you have are hard to find, hard to let go of, and hard to forget. That's maybe why you can never hide the sadness painted on your face right now. It is still there, even if you're with Nixon." She paused with a sigh and continued. "That's why in your debutante's gala, even if Ziggy won't be your last dance anymore, like you always told me since you were a kid. Because, of course, you already have a boyfriend now, a suitable escort. However, don't get me wrong, I still want him invited and to be part of your eighteen roses. Even if you're not on good terms with Ziggy presently, because I know you may deny and hide it, I still can feel it."
I nod my head, giving her an approving smile. I actually want to see Ziggy on that special occasion and talk to him. While we're consuming our food, I'm deep in thought; I slowly recall the memories with Ziggy and our promise.
Six years ago, I was eleven years old. We were doing a dance rehearsal, a ballroom dance. I was paired with Ziggy, and we were still unfamiliar with each other. We had been taught to dance for a local festival celebration. And, it was since then, we began to get comfortable together. From that moment on, we were always side by side of each other. We had our own gig and played 'till dusk on our family computer; sometimes we went for a trek in the mountains and had a bath in the river without informing our parents, especially during the school break. Every moment we were together, I slowly developed some silent admiration for him. Yes, he is my first crush.
It was one of those rehearsals when we'd had a break. Chitchatted with Ziggy, "Do you know? You really dance well." I said to him with admiration.
"Not really, I'm just attentive to the routine." His cheeks got visibly red as he smiled. Flustered by my compliments.
"That routine we've been practicing? Is that the same dance that people dance in a Debutante's Gala? I've heard that the 18 roses should dance with the birthday lady or the debutante; they are 18 men with a rose. And then, they said that the first one to dance would be your father and the last would be someone special, besides your father." I told him with my dreamy smile.
"Yes, that's right, I've seen that on my cousin's 18th birthday. Come, I'll show you how they did it." He pulled me up in front of him. Put one of my hands on his shoulder as he held the other. Then, he held me by the waist with his other hand. "Now, take off your sleeper and step on my foot." He instructed.
Without a moment of hesitation, I followed his lead. In a short run, he started to move, slid his feet to and fro, side by side, whilst humming the waltz's beat. I kept on with the steps and in cadence with his body's rhythm for a while. I stepped down, joined his movements, and we continued dancing with glee.
"See, how fast you've learned?" He looked so delighted at how fast I got the movements that he taught me. "Who do you think could be your last dance, in your debutante's gala?"
"I don't know, but my last dance should be someone really good at dancing the waltz. Someone, maybe as good as you." I smiled with a hint of embarrassment.
"If that's so, then why not me? Although your last dance should be with someone very special to you." There's a sudden change in his expression; I can sense discouragement in his faltering voice.
"Really!" His eyes opened, bolt out of the blue, seeing me jumping, exulting after hearing what he said. "Yay! I already have the last dance for my debut! Wait, will you really promise to be my last dance and not fail me?"
"I promise." He raised his open palm with an ecstatic smile.
*****
"Cloe, Cloe, hey! Cloe." From the obscure sound, Mom's voice slowly became more apparent, calling me several times. After she noticed me lost in thought, she shakes my shoulder to wake me up from my woolgathering.
"Huh?! Ye-yes mom?" I blurted, startled, and she grins amuse, watching over my stupefied appearance.
"Nixon's waiting for you, and he's at the lounge." She informed me as she continued wiping the table.