The Dancing Queen
by Nicole Chidrawi

Rebecca opened one sleep-filled eye. The birds were chirping outside and the morning sunlight streamed onto her white linen bed from the curtainless window. She then forced her other eye open. Her heart beat faster as her focus sharpened and she didn't recognise the cream coloured walls. Looking around for something familiar, it was the brown boxes piled ceiling high in the corner of the room that produced a sigh.

She had moved into her new townhouse yesterday, all day. Her aching back, chipped nails and suddenly muscled arms were testimony to that. The empty brandy bottle lying on the pillow next to her was responsible for her splitting headache.

She dragged her limp body out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, stubbing her big toe on a box of shoes and clothes. That damn box would be her first task for the day, she thought. She just had to take some aspirin first.

Returning to her room she faced the mammoth wardrobe running along the entire length of the wall. She opened the white, wood panelled doors and after a quick audit of the barren expanse she decided where her things would go.

Reaching for the box, her throbbing temples reminded her that the aspirin hadn't kicked in yet. She worked through the box swiftly, getting into a rhythm of shaking, folding and placing on a designated shelf. But it was when she reached the bottom shelf that Rebecca suddenly stopped.

Tucked away in the far back corner was a shoebox. She hesitated for a moment thinking it could be a Pandora's box filled with moths and cockroaches - a gift from the previous tenant.

Rebecca rubbed her hands against her grey tracksuit pants and pushed her hair out of her eyes before reaching for it. She gently clasped her hands around it, pulled it towards her and settled cross-legged on the floor before carefully removing the lid.

The box was covered in metallic silver gift wrap. It had been painstakingly wrapped because the piece of paper fitted the dimensions of the box like a glove and each piece of sellotape had been precisely cut and placed.

Placing the lid to one side, Rebecca was somewhat disappointed as the box revealed a purple, A5, hard cover notebook. The cover consisted of a picture of a young woman, dressed in a trendy outfit, striking a dancing pose. Written in glitter across the top were the words "Dancing Queen".

Rebecca slowly opened the book and another world began to unravel right before her eyes. Every single page of the 200-page notebook had writing on it.
After mindlessly shuffling through it, Rebecca returned to the beginning and read the front page:

"I have decided to keep a journal once again at this stage of my life following my break up with James. I need a place to capture my thoughts and process my emotions. The following pages will be a tribute to me and the life events I find myself going through at the moment. I look forward to this journal being a place I can turn to for constant inspiration, a place my feelings will call home. So, let the Dancing Queen begin her journey." It was dated the December of the previous year.

Rebecca didn't know whether to turn the page or to put the journal back into the box and return it to the letting agent. Torn between invading the privacy of another and wondering why it was left behind if it was so precious and personal, she sat staring into nothingness for a moment.

Instinctively she turned the page. The journal had struck a chord with her. Common heartache. She needed to know more about the Dancing Queen.

Rebecca read and read and read. Her mind caressed each page as if it was a newly discovered lover. She turned some pages quickly, others she lingered over. Sometimes her fingertips traced each word, moving musically, trying to feel the word and wrap herself around it.

Some pages brought on tears, tears she never knew she had. Others made her smile, a smile she thought she had lost forever. The journal was a melange of the day-to-day occurrences of the writer's life as well as phrases, quotations and affirmations that gave her strength, certainty and meaning when her life was anything but. Trying to understand the unexpected turn her life had taken, trying to understand the man that had left her.

Every single atom of Rebecca's being was infinitely wound up in the book and the moment - a place she hadn't visited for a long time. The brandy, her ever-faithful companion, had ensured she remained firmly planted in the past, in all the anger, hurt and sadness that continued to engulf her.

The writer's pain mirrored her own but while the Dancing Queen had left her gaping wound on the page, Rebecca's had been constantly covered-up and therefore it was infected. It was festering. But now, every thought and feeling Rebecca had ever had about her own break up had been identified by someone else and placed in front of her. A gift someone knew she needed.

Rebecca embraced the bottle the day Alan told her he was leaving her for someone younger and she hadn't let go since - couldn't let go. The brandy was wonderful. It numbed the pain, kept the emotions in check. She was too afraid what would happen if they all came out.

Her soul had been bruised and she was too exhausted to pick up the pieces and carry on. He had taken every last part of her with him when he left. What remained was the empty shell, which she continually filled with brandy.

It was the final passage in the journal (a letter to the writer's ex), which she kept reading over and over again:

"I have come to the conclusion that there is no space for you, your memory, your pain or your life and loves in my new life. The final part of letting go is difficult in that it means I will no longer know your touch, your kiss. I will no longer know whether you get home safely each night. I will no longer be your partner at social functions and I will no longer share your joys and sadness. But it must be goodbye for now. May you be guided as you walk your path, which is now leading you away from me and mine."

Rebecca took a deep breath as she closed the book. She looked at it one last time before she placed it peacefully back in its box and returned to its resting place at the back of the cupboard.

She stood up, stretched her shaky legs and slowly walked down her new staircase taking in every inch of her home. She stopped in front of the well-stocked booze cabinet and paused for a moment. She spent the rest of the day feeding the drain its contents.

© Nicole Chidrawi