All it Took Was One Dance

Artwork by Channon Lawson

Bulawayo, Rhodesia. 1976

He’s here again. I watch him: long hair, moustache, bell bottoms and fitted shirt. He stands out amongst the short-back-and-sides men in camouflage, clutching girls, swaying to the music. Disco ball diamonds glitter over FN rifles stacked behind the ticket desk. We are very young.

How do I meet him? None of my friends know who he is. I can’t just walk over, nice girls don’t do that. My pulse is thrumming. Is it possible to fall in love at first sight?

I skirt the dance floor towards him and sink onto a couch. Don’t stare.

‘Dance?’

It’s him! I can’t believe it. His hand reaches out, my fingers tremble, his green eyes greet me.

On the dance floor, his long arms close around me, my cheek rests on his chest and we sway to The Bee Gees’ ‘How Deep Is Your Love’.

‘These guys lived in my street in Sydney,’ he murmurs. It feels right.

We are all living fast. Death stalks young lives, straight out of school in the army. He’s a Rhodesian resident, military service is part of the deal, but life’s good for this soccer-playing Aussie. We party six nights a week. His emotions are held close. Is this an overseas working holiday fling for him?

Eleven months later, he says, ‘I’m going home. The army will call me up soon.’ I’m devastated. ‘Come with me?’ he adds, almost as an afterthought.

I smile brightly. ‘I can’t. Australia doesn’t accept Rhodesian passports.’ My self-control is tight. ‘It’s ok. You go and I’ll be fine.’ On my own!

‘Marry me.’ It’s a statement, not a request. I laugh and walk away, saying, ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’ He wants to marry plain little me!

He is persistent. Eventually, I say yes.

Six weeks later, my father begrudgingly walks me down the aisle. Whispers are of a baby on the way

Three months later, he serves one day in the Rhodesian army, is honourably discharged, allowed to leave the country, gets drunk on the pay, and we fly to Sydney. Forty-four years later, we live on the Central Coast.

Everyday I’m grateful: for the Bee Gees and our daughter, born 17 years later.