Louis — A Short Story. The shoe polish smelt strong, but it…
By: Breneth Edwards
Tags: Fiction, Dance, Short Story, Joy

Photo by Radek Skrzypczak on Unsplash

The shoe polish smelt strong, but it was a familiar, comforting smell. It reminded him of home. The record on the little record player that Malone had gifted him carried on spinning after the needle had reached the end. Louis slowly, carefully put his tap shoes back in the silk bag, and the silk bag in the shoebox, and slid the shoebox back under his metal-framed bed. He pushed himself off the bed, which squeaked a little, and picked up the needle. He flipped the record and placed the needle back on the outer rim. The upbeat jazz song burst from the speakers. Louis watched the record spinning around and around, his hands on his hips. He then moved over to the open window. The sea was still quite rough from the storm the night before. He could see Juliette and Josie tightening the ropes from The Turtle to the pontoon. They were both kind women and he liked that they were staying at the house too. Josie always brought back a new record whenever she would go to the little market in town. He knew she was trying to help him feel better, but no matter how many great songs he listened to, he still couldn’t dance. His leg was fine now, the injury fully healed, but the joy was simply lost. The drum solo in the song started and he looked down at his bare feet. They were still. He wanted to tap to the rhythm, but his feet just wouldn’t move.

“What d’you mean you don’t dance no more?” he heard his father’s voice say. Louis stopped the jazz record and put on his brown shoes. They weren’t the best for long walks, but he thought they were comfortable. They also reminded him of the shoes his father wore when he performed. He put on his sunglasses when he stepped out the front door onto the stone patio. Last night’s storm had blown all the clouds away and the Grecian sun was hot in the blue sky. For weeks now, Malone’s house guests had enjoyed almost entirely sunny weather. Apart from the previous night’s thunderstorm.

Louis continued to think about his father as he wandered up the dirt track. He thought about how happy his father looked when one of his students successfully learnt a new song. Or the very broad grin that would spread across his face when the students could improvise a solo. He had been a truly excellent trumpeter. He loved it so deeply and joyfully that he named his son after the greatest trumpeter of all time. Joyful. That’s what his father was. When Louis and his parents moved to Harlem, it was a joyful life. His mother had a good job as a salesperson in one of the big department stores in Midtown. His mother’s good job meant that his father could be a full-time music teacher. In the evenings he would play the trumpet in all the local, historic jazz clubs with his friends. He would often take Louis with him and those evenings full of music and laughter were joyful. When Louis was seven his father showed him a tape of Gregory Hines and Louis’ life changed forever. For his next birthday, his parents got him the VHS of the Hines brother’s film The Cotton Club. By his next birthday, they had had to buy him a new copy because he had worn the first one out.

“What you gonna be when you grow up, son?”

“Gregory Hines,” Louis always said, and his father would smile.

“That’s fine, son. But don’t forget to be yourself. You have to put yourself into your dancing just like I put myself into my music. Mr Hines brought something new to dance as well as honouring the old. That’s how you become special, son. Put yourself into your work, son.”

“Okay, Daddy, I will.”

“Good boy.”

His parents could afford to send him to tap classes every Saturday morning and he’d spend the rest of his free time practicing on his own. Some Saturdays, after his father picked him up from tap class, the two of them would busk together. Not for the money, but because it was joyful. Louis would tap on the stone pavement and his father would play the trumpet. Together it was the sweetest music to Louis. They’d get a good crowd too and he loved the smiles on people’s faces.

Different music reaching his ears woke Louis up from his reminiscence. He looked around and saw that he had not walked very far at all. He had arrived at Agapi’s cottage. Through the little window, he could see her dancing around the front room and laughing. She was alone, apart from the music, but she was very happy. She then moved to the front door and danced into the outside with a broom in her hand. She smiled at Louis when she saw him and waved him over. He shook his head, but Agapi wouldn’t accept it.

“Come! Come!” she said, pulling him towards her, “don’t worry, I’ll take the lead.” At first, they just swayed back and forth, her old broom held horizontally between them. Louis was beginning to feel it. His heart was beating very fast. He was waiting for the pain in his leg, but it never came. His rhythm was returning, and he felt his mouth stretch into a grin. His father’s grin.

“Dancing is good,” said Agapi.

“This is the first time I’ve danced in nearly a year,” said Louis. Agapi looked surprised.

“Why? Mister Malone said you are a dancer.”

“I was. I am,” Louis said, “but I hurt myself. I fell off stage actually and my leg snapped in two. It’s all on the internet, I’m sure you can find it.”

“I don’t use internet,” she said.

“And then I…well it took a little while for that to heal but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to…I guess I was afraid that it would never be the same. And then I became very sad. I thought I lost my rhythm. Maybe that was just an excuse I made up so that I wouldn’t have to try again. I could just say I lost it after the fall. But now I think it’s back.” His eyes filled with tears and Agapi threw the broom aside.

“Show me,” she said. And he did. Louis danced and finally felt joyful again. The happy tears continued to fall down his dark, high cheek-boned face as he tapped, turned and swayed. Muscle memory really was a marvellous thing, he thought. Agapi clapped when he finally finished. Louis felt like he could breathe again. He savoured the fresh air filling up his lungs and thought that he was so light he might just float up into the sky.

“Where are you going?” Agapi called as Louis strode off, back towards the big house by the sea.

“To call my dad and get my dancing shoes!” Louis rushed into the hallway and almost knocked over the little table on which the landline sat. When he had been avoiding speaking to anyone from his life in the States, it had been rather good that Malone had banned Wi-Fi and that cellular signal was very bad in and around the house. The only way to contact the rest of the world was through the bright red traditional telephone. The phone rang three times before his mother picked up.

“Hi Ma…yes, I’m fine…I know, I’m sorry…I’ve been trying to figure some stuff out…how’s Dad? He there? Hey Dad, it’s Louis…I’m feeling better, thanks…not really…I know…no it’s fine now, really, no pain…I lost it for a moment there, Dad, but I think I got it back…I know…I won’t Dad, I promise…Dad, I think I’m gonna do it…yeah…of course, you’ll be the first…front row seats, you bet…I’m sorry…I really think I can get better now, Dad…It’s like I’ve woken up from a long sleep…exactly…I love you too, Dad. I’ll call you again real soon…I won’t disappear again, I promise…bye, Dad.”

He hung up the phone and raced up two flights of stairs to the blue room, his room. He dived under the bed and pulled out the shoebox. He couldn’t believe how energetic he felt. He knew that the adrenaline would fade at some point and that feeling good would still take work, but it now looked possible. A happy conclusion to this dark chapter was in sight. He didn’t bother putting any music on, he could hear it in his head already. He put on his tap shoes and noticed how stiff they felt. Not for long, he thought with a smile. Louis stood up and the moment he heard that first click of metal on the dark wooden floor, he knew he was home. And it was joyful.