Fred and Betty
In the blue tiled, double shower, Fred smooths shampoo into Betty's short white hair. She laughs, takes the bottle and squeezes it on his matching white hair. Under the rushing water of the double shower heads they laugh and rinse the soapy bubbles from each other. Fred turns off the water on his side, steps out and reaches for a towel. He dries his hair and wraps the green towel around his waist. Betty dances under the flowing water. He turns off the other shower, hands Betty a pink towel and guides her out of the shower. She holds the towel in front of herself. He takes it from her and gently dries her body, and wraps the towel around her.
"Are we going dancing?" she asks.
"It's Friday, what do you think?"
"Oh yes, we're going dancing."
He takes her hand, leads her to the bedroom and seats her at her dressing table. She holds the towel around her while he takes a brush and hair dryer and dries her hair. He combs his own hair. She drops the towel; opens a bottle of moisturizer and smooths an excess amount over her face, neck, breasts and arms.
Fred steps into his white boxer shorts, opens the closet, takes out a blue and white stripped shirt and puts it on. Betty stands up and walks to the bed. He takes the damp towel, clears away some of the moisturizer and hands her lacy, pink underwear. She takes it, puts on the panties; the bra bewilders her. She begins to cry.
Fred pulls on his Navy pants. "Don't worry, Love, I'll help you." He holds the bra as she slips her arms through the straps. He winks at her as he puts her soft wrinkled breasts into the cups, reaches around her, and hooks the back. She giggles and twirls in front of him.
"Which dress?" He holds a black one and a blue one in front of her.
"This one." She takes the blue one and sits on the bed holding it across her arms. Fred tucks his shirt into the navy pants, buttons and zips. He threads the belt around his waist and buckles it.
Betty sits silently, holding the dress. He walks to the bed, takes it from her arms and holds it for her. She raises her arms like a child and he slips it over her head. She stands, smooths it over her hips and turns for him the zip the back. She does a little ChaCha step away from him; humming her own music.
"Here's your shoes." She takes the dance shoes, sits on a chair and puts them on. Fred buckles the shoes.
He ties his shoes. "You want lipstick?"
"Oh, yes, she dances to the dressing table. "Will you help me?"
He takes the tube and lightly turns her lips a pale pink.
"Time to go." Fred holds her coat, she puts her arms into it. He hands her a scarf. She holds it in her hands while he puts on his coat. He takes the scarf and puts it around her neck.
In the car, Betty asks, "Where are we going?"
"Oh, I love dancing. Can we ChaCha?"
"Of course, Love."
They enter the ballroom, Betty grips Fred's arm. He puts his arm around her shoulders, takes money from his pocket and pays.
"Hi Fred. Hello Betty. How are you tonight?" The cashier hands Fred two tickets that he puts in his pocket. "We're fine." he responds. Betty smiles He takes her hand and leads her to a small table beside the dance floor. She takes off the scarf and struggles with the buttons of her coat. Fred helps and drapes the coat over the back of her chair.
ChaCha music starts. Betty jumps to her feet and pulls Fred onto the dance floor. She arranges herself in his arms with perfect posture. They dance.
They sit for a time at the small table. Other dancers greet them and talk to Fred while Betty smiles. They dance a waltz and a foxtrot. Fred holds her close to guide her around the floor. After one more ChaCha; they put on their coats, say good night to their friends and return home.
In the bedroom, Betty asks, "Are we going dancing?"
"We just got home."
"Can we go again?"
"Next Friday." Fred helps Betty out of her dress and into her nightgown. He pulls back the covers and Betty gets into bed. Fred tucks her in and kisses her forehead. He slides into the other side of the bed, takes her hand and blinks away his tears.