“I think the Seymours are having a party.”
I could see them clearly through our kitchen window. Gabby and Clayton in their dimly-lit family room, dancing. The whole nine yards: waving arms, gyrating hips, clapping hands, stomping feet. Rhythmically moving to the faint bass notes that cut through the summer air.
“At least the music isn’t loud,” Shirley replied. “Are you sure it’s a party? There’s no one else parked in their driveway.”
Now that she mentioned it, I realized I didn’t see anyone else through the windows. Just Gabby and Clayton. I watched as they joined for a second—locking hands, dancing around a central point like two planets orbiting a star, and then breaking free into wild swaying.
“Huh. I guess they’re just… dancing by themselves?”
“It’s good exercise. Like Zumba,” she replied.
“But it’s almost 9 o’clock. Kind of late to be exercising.”
She shrugged, stirring her spoon around in her chamomile tea.
I finally tore my eyes from the window. With a sigh, I heaved myself out of the chair and started up the stairs, my creaky old joints popping with every step.
***
Something woke me up.
I glanced at my phone—1:17 AM. Groaning, I rolled out of bed and made my way over to the bathroom.
The Seymours were still dancing.
I could see their small silhouettes below, dancing with the same level of energy they had been four hours ago. Thrashing their arms and gyrating their hips, side-stepping through the room and clapping their hands.
“Where do they get all that energy?” I whispered to myself, watching in amazement through the bathroom window. “Drugs. It must be drugs,” I decided.
I watched them, hypnotized. They stepped across the room, swaying their hips, then shimmying. When they passed each other, they reached their arms out, and again locked hands. For several seconds they spun around each other, arms locked, like Rose and Jack in the Titanic.
I shrugged and made my way back to bed.
***
2:27 AM.
I woke with a start this time. Heart pounding in my chest, gasping for air. I grabbed the glass of water on my nightstand and downed half of it.
As I sat there, trying to remember the nightmare that had scared me awake, I heard it.
A rustling sound in the grass.
Something was outside.
Probably just a deer. Or one of those bears that’s been breaking into everyone’s garbage. I ran over to the window and peeled back the curtain.
What the…
Clayton and Gabby were in our backyard.
And they were still dancing. Arms waving, feet kicking, gyrating and swaying to some beat I couldn’t hear.
Then they danced forward. Into the light from our back porch. And I saw their faces for the first time.
They were both smiling.
Clayton’s face was twisted into a manic, frenzied grin. A grin wider than I’ve ever seen him smile. Watery mascara streamed down Gabby’s cheeks as she grinned, too. Crying with joy.
I leapt back from the window.
And that’s where I am now. Locked in the master bedroom with Shirley, sitting on the bed, typing this out. I thought they’d go away. But they’re not. They’re just dancing, slowly but surely, towards our back door.
In a second I’m going to wake Shirley and call the police. I really am. But… well, there’s a problem.
I can’t stop my foot from tapping on the carpet.
Tapping to some unheard beat.