Just Walking Away

It happened suddenly. The music was loud and the hot summer night made the club feel oppressive to me. I was standing there, on the edge of the dance floor when I realised – quite suddenly and out of the blue - that I did not want to be there.

I realised with something approaching shock, or dismay, that I did not liker the music; especially not the thudding volume of it. I did not like dancing; although for quite a while I’d been slowly coming to that particular conclusion. I did not like the club and I didn’t like the people I spent my evenings here with… most of them, anyway.

I realised with a kind of sudden jolt, almost akin to an electric shock - that I still recall, even now, all these years later - made my whole body shudder with the realisation that not only could I just walk out of there: but that was exactly what I wanted to do.

So, I turned, walked out into the foyer, out through the doors that turned the pounding beat into a low throb behind me.

I was out by the cloakroom - almost empty, because of the summer heat no-one had brought a coat - when I heard her voice.

‘Dan?’

I turned. Sylvia was standing in the doorway. I could see the darkness, the throbbing disco lights behind her and the shadowed shapes of the moving dancers, looking from the outside like some ancient mystical pagan ritual.

‘What’s the matter?’ she said.

‘I want… I need….’ I pointed to the door and the summer evening, still light, but fading slowly into the greys of twilight, outside.

‘Wait,’ she said, letting the door to the disco shut behind her, cutting off the thudding beat.

We walked out of the club together, Sylvia holding on to my one arm with both of hers. Instead of turning back towards the town, I turned left and took the path down towards the canal.

We walked in silence for a few minutes, leaving the club behind; past the cemetery I turned and started to walk up the hill, away from the town. The summer grass was long on both sides of the path. It felt as though we were walking through jungle, or some shoulder-high crop. All we could see was the green of the grass and the still empty blue sky. It was more or less silent, apart from occasional insect noises and the cries of a few birds as they made their way towards their roosting places.

Up near the top of the hill where the grass was a little shorter I turned and Sylvia looked up at me, wrapping her arms around me.

‘Yes, Now I understand,’ she said as together we slowly lowered ourselves into the grass, kissing all the way down.