“Let’s dance,” Morgana said, and hauled me to my feet.
“You wanna come?” Otis said to Ellen as he joined us.
“Oh, no thanks,” she said, and slipped into the seat I had just slipped out of. “I think I’ll wait here. But you guys have fun.”
I was tempted to stay behind to keep Ellen company, but Morgana was already pulling me along by the wrist. There, on the congested dance floor, I put in a good effort even though I hate dancing. I tried to maintain an arm around my wife’s waist, but she kept slipping from my grasp to do her own thing, strutting and shaking and smiling among the crowd. Otis, meanwhile, shimmied about in his own manner, sort of waltzing with himself out of sync with the music. I looked back at Ellen, now alone at our table, sitting stiffly in her turtleneck. I watched as
