MYSTERY OF THE TEXAS TWOSTEP

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR:

MY BIRTHDAY

Written by Rick Archer 

LIMBO MONTH ONE WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 24, 1979 TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY

It was October 24.  This was my 30th Birthday, theoretically a significant milestone. 

And who did I think of first?  Jennifer?  No.  Victoria?  No.  My parents?  No. 

I thought of Patricia, the woman who had done more damage to my self-esteem than any person since Vanessa.  And why did I think about her?   Because Patricia liked to insult me about my age.  According to Patricia, turning 30 marked the end of my youth.  In her opinion, when I turned 30, it was time for me to grow up and abandon my silly dance career.  What grade would Patricia have given me had she remained in my life?  A "D", maybe even an "F".  In her opinion, I was a loser, a failure in love, a failure in career.  The way I felt right now, I agreed with her.  I thought back to my year of graduate school at Colorado State University.  On the day I was dismissed from the program in 1974, I considered myself a failure in love and a failure in career.  Here we were five years later and I felt the same way again. 

Looking on the Bright Side, I had come a long way in the past five years.  I was much more confident around women and I was proud of my accomplishments during the Disco Era.  Yes, I had hit a definite low point, but mostly due to a recent series of Bad Breaks.  With my Magic Carpet Ride certain to end soon, I could not imagine what my life would be like when the curtains closed on the Disco Era.  Feeling morbid, I thought of Two Days,  my favorite Arabic parable.

"Life consists of two days.  Both days are a test for you.  One is for you, one is against you.  When Life is for you, do not be proud or reckless.  When Life is against you, be patient."

This was my Darkest Day.  I was totally convinced of it.  Did I have the guts to be patient?  Not the way I felt.  I had a hard time believing things were going to get better any time soon.  On the other hand, what choice did I have but to wait?  Stuck here in Limbo, I had only one door open to me: Country-Western.  Unfortunately, I had no desire to try.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 24 PESSIMISM

The home phone rang.  My mother perhaps?  Not likely.  We rarely spoke unless she needed money.  My father perhaps?  Not likely.  We rarely spoke.  No, it was Victoria and she sounded unhappy.  Wow, what a surprise.  Three weeks had passed since Victoria appeared on my doorstep and we had yet to actually discuss the strange events.  So why did she call?  Victoria wanted me to know that Doorstep Night was all my fault. 

"Damn it, Rick, you forced me to make the worst mistake of my life!  I had no business moving out of my house.  Your stupid threats caused me to lose my mind.  You have cost me my marriage!"

I was seriously taken aback.  Here I thought I was the victim and Victoria was the perpetrator for deceiving me.  But to hear Victoria explain it, I was Villain Rick and she was Victim Victoria. 

"What are you blaming me for?  You took three months to make up your mind.  What gave you the right to put my life on hold while you made up your mind?   I did not need your permission to date someone.  There's no ring on my finger nor did I make any promises to you.  I did not go seeking a new girlfriend.  However, when I met Madame X by accident, I had every right to do what I did."

"That is where you are wrong.  You and I were in the process of discussing a committed relationship.  I assumed you were bargaining in good faith, but no, you were out screwing that bimbo the whole time.  By the way, how are you and Madame X getting along?"

I answered truthfully.  "She doesn't want to see me again."

"Good, I'm glad she's gone.  Serves her right and serves you right too.  I hate her guts, but I hate you even more.  If you had shown proper respect for me and kept your pants on, I wouldn't be in this mess."

Hmm.  Where have I heard that before?  I actually smiled at the irony.  I could see it on my tombstone... "He shoulda kept his pants on." 

Rather than respond to her accusation, I decided this would be a good time to probe Victoria's Doorstep Night thought-process.

"I have a question, Victoria.  What was going through your mind?  First you led me to bed, then you removed your clothes.  The next thing I remember is a banshee wail that would scare a ghost.  If having sex with me was so distasteful, why go through with it in the first place?"

"Funny you should bring that up.  I've been asking myself that same question.  I must have been out of my mind.  After we talked at the coffee shop that Monday, I spent the rest of the day picturing you in the arms of some gorgeous woman who would make you forget me.  Well, damn it, I saw you first.  You belonged to me.  I had every right to see if these feelings I had for you could translate into the relationship I had long dreamed about.  I wasn't about to let some woman step between us, so I gambled I could change your mind.

However, the moment we had sex, the worst feeling of my life came over me.  It was like, oh my God, I promised Michael I would be faithful till death do us part.  What have I done?  And what about Stephanie?  What was I going to do about her?  I couldn't ask her to move into your house, that wouldn't be fair to her.  What was I even doing here?  It was like having sex with you woke me up from a nightmare only to find out the nightmare was real.  The guilt I felt was overwhelming.  But most of all, I hated your guts.  You had just persuaded me to sacrifice my marriage and I wanted to rip your eyes out."

This was ridiculous.  In my mind, I had fallen prey to a willful, deceitful woman.  I was the victim.  In her mind, she had made a tremendous sacrifice to avoid losing me.  She was the victim.  I blamed her and she blamed me.  Weren't we a pair?

"No one put a gun to your head, Victoria.  Nor was this Affair what I wanted.  I cooperated because I thought that was what you wanted.  If you had misgivings, why go through with it?  Why didn't we just stay in the living room till we fell asleep on the couch?  In the light of day, you would have driven home and told Michael you made a mistake.  He would have been angry, of course, but since no lines were crossed, he would have forgiven you.  In fact, he would have been greatly relieved to see you finally come to your senses."

"Interesting you should say that.  I say those same things to myself every waking moment.  I don't know why I was so impetuous.  That just isn't like me.  I had just spent the past three months being ultra-cautious not to make the wrong move, then one night I lost my mind and rushed into the worst mistake of my life.  You made me do this!"

Now Victoria began to cry.  Oh great, here we go again.  Despite my irritation at being accused of leading her astray, I found myself feeling vaguely sorry for the woman.  Victoria didn't seem quite the monster at the moment. 

After a couple minutes, Victoria spoke up.  "Oh, by the way, I just remembered why I called you.  Happy Birthday.  I hate you." 

And with that, she hung up.

BACK TO COSMIC BLINDNESS

You want to know something?  I hated her too.  Due to my distrust, I believed Victoria had seduced me into having sex so she could eliminate Jennifer and regain control over me.  Basically what Victoria had said on the phone confirmed that assumption.  However, hearing her sob, I could tell Victoria deeply regretted what she had done.  For the first time my anger abated long enough to see her as a sympathetic figure.  Rather than concentrate on Victoria's insane decision to barge through my door, I found myself more curious about her regret.  The memory I could not get out of my head was the schizophrenic nature of Victoria's wild personality shift following our unfortunate act.  The moment I touched her, Victoria had come to her senses and realized what a terrible mistake she had made.  I would have bet money Victoria had never been unfaithful before.  So why me?  I didn't want her and she didn't want me.  Given the lack of passion on her part, what made her go through with this?  What could have caused Victoria to override her wedding vows?  The utter senselessness of her behavior was so striking I could not help but begin thinking about Cosmic Blindness again. 

I would never forget the profound look of dismay that crossed Victoria's face that night when I touched her.  Trust me, there is little joy in making love to a woman who is gritting her teeth.  Nor could I forget the moment she exploded with grief when I finished.  She was so upset, I wondered why Victoria went through with this if she felt so much misgiving.  The impression I got was Victoria had done something she did not want to do, and yet this was her idea.  Victoria was the one who took off her clothes, not me.  The contradiction was so apparent, I could see why Victoria was struggling to understand her own behavior.

During my Sunday Meditation two and a half weeks ago, I had concluded I was the victim of Cosmic Blindness due to my lack of caution.  Now as I listened on the phone, I wondered if the same thing could be said about Victoria.  The way she spoke to me, Victoria agreed her decision was abhorrent, senseless and uncharacteristic.  She agreed she was out of her mind.  She wished she could take it back.  The way Victoria was talking, she made it sound like she had committed adultery pretty much against her will.  But the only way that would make sense would be if her judgment had been suspended.  Was Victoria starting to reach the same conclusion as me? 

I was already feeling sorry for myself when Victoria called.  After she spent half an hour blaming me for everything that went wrong, I felt even more depressed.  After a couple cups of coffee, I went in my office and called Joanne.

"I'm sorry, Joanne, but I don't want to meet today."

"Are you crazy?  How do you know Bronco Bill won't have some new questions that could trip you up?"

"I handled Bill just fine last Sunday.  And we have enough new Twostep moves already prepared to get through Week Seven.  I'm not worried." 

Joanne lost her temper.  "Damn it, Rick, you should be worried!  I am sick and tired of living in fear each week that you're going to slip up and make a terrible mistake.  It is incredibly unprofessional for you to constantly show up unprepared.  The least you could do is visit a kicker club and see what the dancing looks like."

Joanne was right, of course.  I had thought the same thing many times.  However, the way I felt right now, all I wanted to do was quit.  We were down to two remaining Meyerland lessons.  Let's get it over with, tell the Twostep Trio to go to hell, and find a new job.

"I'm sorry, Joanne, but I just don't care.  I'll see you Sunday."

With disgust in her voice, Joanne replied.  "Okay, suit yourself, but you are making a big mistake."

After I hung up the phone, a huge wave of guilt passed over me.  Now that I had been exposed to the 'New Twostep' courtesy of Texas A&M plus Joanne's efforts as a spy, I realized Western dancing might not be as bad as I thought.  Maybe there was some hope after all.  So I called Joanne back and reluctantly agreed to meet today at 5.

The first thing I did when Joanne arrived was ask her to put on the Crystal Gayle song I liked so much.    She looked for it without success, then gave up.  "I think I left it at home.  I'm sorry."

Irritated, I told Joanne to put on a different Twostep song so we could practice to music.  I groaned the moment Joanne put that awful 'Redneck Mother' song on for the hundredth time.  I hated that song with passion!  My dancing was improving, but the music was still awful.  Joanne, God bless her, had the worst taste in music I had ever heard.  Worried that I would never be able to overcome my disgust for the music, just then my boss Lance Stevens walked in.  Seeing him glower at us, Joanne and I both froze.   

Stevens just stood there shaking his head.  I could see he was horrified.  Stevens must have heard the music playing and decided to see what was going on.  Clearly disgusted, Stevens frowned mightily, then spoke.

"You know what, young man, I have underestimated you.  I never believed there was any music in this world worse than your Disco music, but you have somehow managed to find it!"

At that, Stevens gave me his usual sneer of contempt.  As well he should.  That was an impressive put-down.  Stevens had managed to insult Disco music, Country music, Joanne and me in one fell swoop.  Now he continued. 

"Archer, what in the hell are you doing playing that god awful music?"

"Well, Mr. Stevens, it looks like Urban Cowboy has just about killed off any chance of Disco surviving past the New Year.  With Joanne's help I am trying to learn more about country-western dancing so I can teach Western classes next year."

Stevens' eyes bulged with astonishment. 

"Are you out of your mind?  This is the worst music I have ever heard!  It is worse than Disco and I never thought I would hear myself say that.  Look here, son, let me give you a piece of advice.  I hate kicker music and I hate rednecks, but most of all I hate how stupid the dancing is.  Country dancing is so easy even those dumb ass farm boys can do it.  Don't bother teaching Country dancing.  There's nothing to it and there's no money in it, so stop wasting your time."

Before I could reply, Stevens turned around and stomped out the door.  Deeply shaken, I tried dancing with Joanne, but stopped.  My heart wasn't in it any more.  I despised Lance Stevens, but I agreed with him that this music was AWFUL!  Maybe it was because I was already over-sensitive, but Stevens' criticism hurt worse than I could have ever imagined.  It was a gut punch to the stomach.  Just when I was beginning to hope Western dancing would be able to replace Disco, Stevens had brought me crashing back to reality.  If he was right, I was indeed wasting my time.  In fact, right now I felt like the biggest sucker on earth for believing there was enough to Western dancing that it could replace Disco.  What was wrong with me?  This was like asking a broken down jalopy to replace a Corvette. 

"Joanne, I'm sorry, but I can't do this."

Joanne was crushed.  Just when things were looking up with this crazy Western experiment, I was falling to pieces right before her.  I was so unhappy that Joanne had no idea what to say.  "Do you want me to leave?"

I nodded wordlessly.

"Will I see you at Meyerland on Sunday?"

"Yes, of course."

With that, Joanne picked up her records and walked out.  I could tell she was crying.  Right now I wanted to cry too.  Maybe there was a silver lining.  Since Stevens didn't like the music, I could use it to keep him off my back, sort of like how garlic is used to repel vampires.  Sarcasm aside, Stevens' candor could not have come at a worst time.  Until now, things had gone fairly well.  I had used Glen's training to put Bronco Bill in his place and Joanne agreed my Foxtrot patterns were close enough to Twostep to be useable.  Recently I had even found a Twostep song I liked.  But those were just temporary glimmers of hope.  As birthday presents go, Lance Stevens had just snuffed out my one remaining hope for continuing my dance career.

Sure, Joanne and I stood to make $1,000 apiece, but Meyerland was at best a one-time windfall created by the desire of some nutty socialites to turn their Fall Benefit into a C&W dance event.  The only reason we were hired was because none of those women had the slightest idea how easy this style of dancing was when they called.  I hated to say it, but Stevens was right.  Once people discovered how easy it was to learn Twostep and Polka, I would have to subsist on bread crumbs.  There was no way I could ever make a living teaching this drivel. 

And with that I fell to pieces.  Remember what I said about Rock Bottom?  Never assume things can't get worse.  The combination of Jennifer turning her back, Victoria's Blame Game and Stevens' tongue-lashing was more than I could take right now.  Failure in love, failure in career.  That was as cruel a one-two punch as it goes.  Going of my mind with despair, I lost all interest in Western Dancing.  I had two weeks left at Meyerland.  After that, I swore I would quit.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 24 RETURN TO THE ABYSS

After Joanne left, I still had a class to teach.  I sat there alone licking my wounds.  Depressed out of my mind, I was in no mood to speak to anyone.  So far this month had been the most catastrophically awful period since October 1973 when I failed my graduate school Interviewing class.  Although I had been allowed to finish out the school year, I knew from the moment I saw my bad grade that I was doomed. 

Now I felt the same way.  Disco was not gone yet, but it did not have long to live.  The sad thing is that Disco was my best friend in the whole wide world.  Following my graduate school disaster, I had used Disco lessons as a way to patch my life back together.  Disco had come to symbolize my rebirth, but now its imminent death felt like a return to the Abyss.  I was beyond miserable.

As if my tattered love life was not problem enough, this Urban Cowboy menace was creeping towards me like some sort of rotten, odorous primordial ooze.   This repulsive slime threatened to destroy the flash of Disco and replace it with a dreary world of Beer, Bubbas, and Twang.  As far as I could tell, Country-Western sucked the life out of everything it touched.  It was a constant nightmare, a plague which approached at a maddeningly slow, gradual pace smothering all joy in its path.  Country-Western was unavoidable.   And the scourge was almost here!   Throughout 1979 I agonized as one Disco after another closed.  I felt the same sickening nausea a helpless farmer must feel as fungus, flood, locusts and drought destroy his precious crop.  There was nothing I could do to prevent the onset.  My agony was intensified by the knowledge that Disco was burning hot everywhere else in the country but Houston. 

As I went through all the stages of grief, anguish, and loss, what hurt the most was that I could not understand the reasons behind the collapse of Disco in my hometown.  To me, it was like some mystery person had deliberately removed the oxygen and snuffed out the Disco Inferno.  The utter senselessness bothered me no end.  Why was it taking place only in Houston?  And why did the advance of Western need to replace Disco?  Houston was a big city, so why couldn't the two types of dancing co-exist?  But that did not seem to be an option.  As one dance club after another changed its stripes, my hometown had room for only one type of dancing at a time. 

If I could understand, maybe I could accept.  I asked every person I knew if they had an explanation.  They were just as much in the dark as me.  Many people were upset.  They agreed it was absurd.  Others just shrugged.  It clearly didn't bother them as much, but then their whole world didn't depend on Disco.  I was going insane with despair.  Why?  Why?  Why? 

Every waking moment, my mind returned to one mystery or the other.  Why would anyone in their right mind prefer Western dancing over Disco dancing?  Since I absolutely refused to go anywhere near a Western club, this question remained unanswered.  Avoiding a visit to the Western clubs was my way to protest the unfairness of it all.  I refused to visit a single Western Club until the Universe apologized for the demise of Disco.  I knew my attitude was self-destructive, but I did it anyway because I was bitter.  Urban Cowboy had just murdered my best friend in the world and I was in no mood to forgive.

Right now it seemed like teaching Western was my only option.  It was the only escape route open to me.  At least I had a new fad to replace the old fad.  If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.  Yippee ki-yo, ki-yay, Head 'em up, move 'em out, Rawhide.  However, there was one huge problem.  My phone was not ringing for western lessons.  As things stood, the Twostep Trio were the only people showing any interest.  In fact, the business phone was not ringing at all.  Nor was the personal phone.  I had never felt more alone.

Here is what bothered me the most.  I could not for the life of me understand how Urban Cowboy could supplant Saturday Night Fever.  Right before my very eyes, the glamour of Disco with beautiful women, fast dancing and pulsating music was about to be replaced by dreary dance halls, twangy music and the most boring form of dancing imaginable.  To me, Disco dancing was so far superior to Western dancing, there could be no argument.  Nevertheless, Western was poised to dominate.  This was like letting an ugly girl win the beauty contest.  Why would anyone in their right mind dream of trading Disco for Country? 

I wanted to scream!!!!  "Wake up, Houston!  Don't do this!!"  But what good would it do?  No one was listening.  I was 30 years old and the Abyss was calling.  To hell with Western.  In the mood I was in, I was ready to go down with the ship.