As if reading his mind, with a sadness that could dim the sun, she said with downcast eyes, “You know he doesn’t even look at me anymore. At least not the way he used to.” Before Kopano could register, she continued, “Things have become so… mechanical and scheduled between us. We get home; I prepare dinner; we eat; we wash the dishes; he puts Megan to bed with a bedtime story after she’s watched her favourite cartoons; we get ready for bed… And most of this happens almost in complete silence. I can’t take it anymore! Every now and then he will grunt something in the middle of the night when his needs demand it. I’ll roll over and lay there staring at the ceiling until he’s done, which doesn’t take long, and even that…” She realised just how much she had divulged when Kopano cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

“I guess I better go rinse these off,” she said as she gathered the plastic plates, hands trembling slightly, heading to the kitchen.

Kopano was still trying to process what Claire had just said, when two Indian Minors hoped around in the garden searching for an afternoon snack. How had things got so bad between Claire and Paul?

The intro to Luther Vandross’s Dance with My Father was unmistakable as it started playing over the radio. “Dance With My Father!” Claire shrieked with excitement, hand on her chest as if she was about to take an oath. “Would you mind…?” she gestured at Kopano with her had outstretched, inviting him to dance. Kopano carefully slipped his left hand around her waist and took her left hand in his right, just below shoulder height, maintaining a respectful distance of course.

She was having none of that. “What are we back in high school?” she chuckled. Before he could respond, she drew him in closer, put both her arms around his neck and placed her head on his chest. While Luther serenaded them, Kopano couldn’t help but bury his nose into Claire’s bouncy dark chocolate curls.

“My dad used to play this song every Saturday morning while my mother slept. The song would play over and over again until my mother got sick of hearing it and would chase us out of the kitchen so she could make breakfast. Their love was never complicated… nothing like what’s going on between Paul and…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish that sentence.

“Shshshshsh. Let the music heal,” Kopano whispered. By the time the song was finished Kopano could feel that Claire’s entire posture had relaxed.

Claire had just sat down when Kopano’s favourite song started playing. He grabbed the marker pen, and said in his most sultry voice, “Ladies and gentleman, I would like to dedicate this song to the one and only, Claire February!” In his best Aaron Neville impersonation Kopano then took on the ballad:

“Look at this face I know the years are showing
Look at this life I still don’t know where it’s going
I don’t know much but I know I love you
That may be all I need to know.”

What the impersonator could not have anticipated is that the person to whom the song was dedicated would turn the performance into a duet. She chipped in:

“Look at these eyes they never seen what matters
Look at these dreams so beaten and so battered
I don’t know much but I know I love you
That may be all I need to know.”

Kopano was completely taken by surprise. There was something about the way she sang those words, the way the light danced in her eyes that almost created a world that for the duration of the song belonged exclusively to them. Claire, on the other hand, was so lost in the song that she just carried on singing.

It was only when the Linda Ronstadt impersonator reached the last verse that the man that looked nothing like Neville joined in. By this time they were almost standing toe-to-toe, her breasts gently pressing against him, as he found himself lost in the windows to her soul.
“I don’t know much but I know I love you
That may be all there is to know.”

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