Tall story

Robert arrived at the party late. He found his friends and they
established themselves in a corner by the fire. They talked about each
other, gossiped about the other guests and moved only to fetch drinks.
Occasionally the host would bring a curious guest over for
introductions. Robert automatically bent his knees and sloped his
shoulders when meeting someone new. It was a well meaning but
ineffective gesture. As the stranger peered up at him trying not to
mind the crick in their neck, he peered down, stooping and dipping.
Both parties trying hopelessly to find a space midway where they might
meet.

Robert had spent most of his life looking down. Tall as a pole since
early teens, he had been born to short parents who had never recovered
from the shock of their son's height. He had grown used to a life of
compensation. Fitting into spaces that were not designed with him in
mind, trying to form relationships with people who would never see life
from his point of view. His parents tried. They tried to conceal their
shock, they tried to make him feel comfortable and looked after. They
often made him feel welcome, sometimes even loved, but they never
succeeded in looking him straight in the eye.

Right now his neck ached and he had stopped listening to the upturned
face beneath him. It had started to dawn on him this evening that he
never stood up straight. He had thought this thought before but did not
usually allow himself to think it for long. Sometimes, when alone, he
would stretch out his neck, straighten his knees, hold back his
shoulders and stare triumphantly ahead. His triumph was usually short
lived, as this quiet moment of pure height was interrupted and his
habitual shrinking took its place. But tonight he was tired. He had
been feeling irritable since breakfast. He had woken with a cramp in
his neck and a dull ache in his knees. The room was hot. He was not
enjoying his drink or the conversation. His neck continued to ache and
he was beginning to think that the only way to ease it was to lift up
his head and stretch out his neck. The voice belonging to the upturned
face asked him a question. He answered politely and shifted his weight
onto the other leg. The voice continued to talk, obviously satisfied
with his answer, and Robert grew more restless. Once the idea of
raising his head had taken hold he could not shake it. He felt
ridiculous and he looked ridiculous. Like a sunflower with its neck
broken. He told himself that he was not interested in these
conversations anymore, conversations based on curiosity and pity. But
no matter how hard he tied to persuade himself that he had no time for
people with less stature than himself, he could not bring himself to
leave them. He wondered what would happen if he just stood up. Right
now in the middle of this party. He would be able to look no one in the
eye. He would be marooned. A large unassailable island in a sea of
short people.

The upturned face went to fetch a drink. Robert's friend John stood in
its place. He liked his friend John but even John's smiling, tilted
face seemed to aggravate him. His head hurt and his shoulders were
stiff.
'Are you alright Bob?'
He had started to sweat.
'A little cramped.'
John moved back, as if to give him space.
'Why don't you sit down?'
He gestured to a narrow space at the end of a stiff-backed sofa.
'No, no. No thank you.'
His knees started to tremble. He tightened his grip on the mantelpiece.
If he couldn't stand up straight he felt as if the only other
alternative was to collapse into the floor. A lifetime of discomfort
was catching up with him. He felt every ache and cramp, every awkward
and embarrassed moment. After years of fitting into tight spots and
trying not to mind his body was taking revenge. Tonight all this had
become intolerable.

Letting go of the mantelpiece he fixed his gaze on the floor.
Navigating his way through feet he made his way towards the door.
Generally people moved aside when they saw him lurching across a
crowded space. He could see feet moving away as he advanced. He felt
his height most when he moved. He never danced at parties or crossed a
room to fetch a drink. He was more acceptable standing still, bending
benignly to visitors. Tonight, however, was different. He was caught in
a vertical crisis. If he could just leave the room, go outside, stand
up straight and breathe freely. He moved carefully but with
determination. He could see the doorframe now. Steering himself past a
pair of brown shoes he pressed on.

He was only a few steps away when a pair of black, kitten-heeled
sandals caught his attention. They were blocking his way, true, but
something else about them made him catch his breath. They were planted
in his path like red-tipped boats. The size of them sent the blood
rushing to his head. He could feel his cheeks growing pink and warm. He
had never seen feet that size other than his own. His stomach fluttered
with anticipation. He had to look. He raised his gaze from the floor
and saw the fastening of her sandals, just above the ankle. His eyes
moved up her ankles towards strong, bare calves. He couldn't stop now,
up the considerable length of leg towards the hem of a sky blue skirt.
He was standing unsteadily in the centre of the room. She remained
resolutely in his path. His eyes continued moving slowly upwards. He
caught sight of other guests, their faces, foreheads and finally tops
of heads. He was leaving the domain of the ordinary and entering into
the realm of the truly tall. She was a giant. Gloriously, gorgeously
tall. He laughed out loud and raised his head. He was face to face with
a flame haired, green eyed, lightly freckled giantess.

He moved towards her without looking down. He looked straight ahead
into the amused green eyes. She held out her hand.
'I'm Helen'
He held her hand tightly, feeling the length of her fingers. She
laughed.
'And you are&;#8230;'
'Oh, Robert. I'm Robert. Hello.'
'Hello Robert.'
'I've never seen you here before.'
'No we haven't met.' She smiled. 'You're still holding my hand.'
'Yes.'
He held it tighter. She left her hand in his and let her fingers
unfurl. They stood for a while, facing each other, not speaking much,
but holding hands. Someone had put on some music and they listened as
it drifted up to them. Taking a breath to steady himself Robert took a
step closer, he put his hands on Helen's waist. She hooked her arms
around his neck. They stayed like that for a few seconds and then very
slowly they started to sway. Their swaying grew bolder and the music
faster. Robert took Helen's hands again and started to dance. He
couldn't stop smiling. He couldn't remember a time when he had enjoyed
himself so much. Helen's dancing grew wilder. He started laughing. He
couldn't see anybody else's embarrassment or disapproval. He saw only
Helen and her dancing feet.
Down below, the guests made way for the gigantic dancing couple,
stepping gingerly around the edges of the room for fear of being
crushed.