Night Blindness by Susan Strecker

what steps we were doing, but somehow I followed. Those early dance lessons Jamie had made me take had paid off. We jigged and spun as if we’d been dancing together for years. The song ended with our backs pressed together, our hands clasped, and we were both breathing hard. I could feel sweat running between my breasts, and I was sure my shirt was now completely see-through.
    The band started a slow song that began with a piano solo. My back still to Ryder’s, I watched the piano player close his eyes, his hands finding their way across the keys. “Mind if I cut in?” I heard my father ask. His face was red from exertion, and I was glad it was a slow song. He started the four-step waltz he’d taught me as a kid. I’d put my feet on his and he would dance me around the living room, saying “One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.” The teenagers around us held on to one another’s waists. Doing a formal dance step with my dad felt old-fashioned and sweet.
    â€œI love having you home again, Whobaby.” He’d told me this about twenty times a day in the week and a half that I’d been home, and it made me feel both happy and so guilty, I thought I might poison myself.
    â€œAnd I love being here.” I stumbled and stepped on his toe. “Sorry. I’m not exactly good with the classics.”
    â€œAw, sweetheart, you’re perfect.” He’d also said this a lot, but it was always tentative, as though he were afraid of jinxing it. As if one day, poof, I’d disappear back to the Southwest. He drew me to him, resting his cheek on the top of my head. “My good girl is home again.”
    We danced around and around the grass while the waitstaff lit tiki lamps and the piano player closed his eyes and did another solo.
    Jamie and Ryder twirled by as the song ended, and my dad reached for her. “Come on, good-lookin’. Let’s show these kids how it’s done.”
    â€œHow it’s done?” Ryder asked, grabbing me around the waist, his fingers snaking under my shirt, gripping me as though I might disappear if he let go. “Jenny, I think we’ve been challenged.”
    The four of us stood among other couples, waiting for the music to begin. “Put your hands on my shoulders.” He grabbed my hips, hard. “When I count to three, I want you to jump.”
    The song was a Stray Cats cover with a fast rhythm. “Three.” He tossed me in the air. I had to put my legs around his waist to keep from falling. We spun once, and I slid through his grasp. I swung my feet to his left and then his right, and he hooted, and laughed out loud. The small of his back was sweating. His hand felt hard and sure on my spine. The tiki lights blurred, and I was breathlessly happy.
    By the time the song was over, my father’s silver-blond hair was windblown and he was laughing. “You won.” Ryder held out his hand and my dad shook it. “In your age group.” My dad snatched his hand back, but he was still laughing.
    They had brought us strawberry shortcake while we were gone, or maybe my father had ordered it without our noticing. The strawberries tasted just picked and the cream was real and the cake underneath soft and moist from the fruit. “I always feel like a little girl when I eat strawberry shortcake,” Jamie said between mouthfuls. I couldn’t believe she was eating it.
    My father kissed her on the nose. It had gotten completely dark, but everything around us was golden-hued and bright under the torch-lit lamps. Above us were those same stars Ryder used to point out as we’d lie together on the football field the summer before my junior year—the harp in Lyra’s constellation and the head of the bear in Ursa Major. I knew they were there, but I couldn’t see them well anymore.
    My dad was smiling at Jamie, and he had a little dab of strawberry on his chin. She was talking in her