Pygmalion Ch. 05

"Henry."

Higgins cleared his throat. "Well, that was the first of numerous arguments. We found ourselves exchanging e-mails to argue. Then we would meet for coffee after lectures and then dinner every other night. Then dinner every night. Always arguing at first, but then, I swear one night, she was so stubborn. We'd gone ten rounds. It was past 3 in the morning. And I was so livid. I could have torn my hair out!"

"What happened?"

"She threw a coffee mug at me."

"What?"

"Well, not AT ME. But it hit the wall in her flat a good four feet to the right of my head."

"This doesn't sound particularly romantic, Henry."

"You asked about 'Love' Eliza, not 'Romance.' If you want an expert on Romance, there's a literature department full of Romantics just down the way."

"Go on, Henry," she said. Planting a kiss on his shoulder. "I won't interrupt. She threw a cup at you."

"Actually, it was a coffee mug. Heavy bulking thing. It made more of a thud than a crash when it shattered. Dented the drywall in her flat." He put his hand over Eliza's and looked down into her eyes, which were suddenly green for some reason. "Do you keep doing that on your own?"

"Doing what?"

"Your eyes- Nevermind. Anyway, she threw the mug and her nostrils were flaring and her cheeks were flushed, and I tell you, Eliza, I knew right then I had never made another human being more crazy in my life. She was on the verge of tears, poor thing. And she knew it, she turned away and made to walk into the next room but stopped and turned back, her finger came up under my chin, and she said, 'Henry Higgins, you're going to have to learn to lose an argument with me or else I'm going to kill you and waltz my way to the electric chair."

Eliza laughed.

"I thought it was funny as well," Henry smiled. "We both laughed, and then she sat down on the sofa, and I sat down beside her. My hand touched her knee encouragingly. 'Shall we change the subject?' I asked. And we did."

"What did you talk about?"

"Movies, books, music. She had this odd idea that the Beatles were a better band than the Rolling Stones..."

"Derrick and the Dominos," Eliza said.

"I programmed you so you'd like our compromise."

"I wish I had her memories," Eliza sighed. "I bet she thought the world of you."

"At least I don't have to miss her face anymore," Higgins said, lifting Eliza's chin to kiss her softly on her nose. "It almost made the day begin, you know?"

"I'm beginning to have an inkling."

"Your Freddie," Higgins sighed. "Do you really want to knock him back reading on his heels, so he falls madly and irrevocably in love with you?"

"Is that possible?"

Higgins smiled. "It involves a trip to the shops," he said. "And something every lady should have in her arsenal."

"Arsenal?"

"You've no doubt read about Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles, or ICBMs, Eliza. Today we tangle with the deadliest of human weapons. The LBD."

"LBD?"

"Little Black Dress."

*****

Thirty minutes later, Eliza stepped from behind the curtain in the dress shop, her hands at her sides, modeling the fourth dress in a row she had tried on. It came down to just below the mid-thigh, with a squared neckline that showed off just enough decolletage without being obscene.

"Is that closer to what you were imagining, Sir?" the girl in the shop asked.

"I think you've finally hit on it, Mrs. Peirce," Henry said, turning from a rack of shoes to admire the lithe form of the girl he'd made. The dressed hugged her figure without blousing.

Eliza spun around slowly. "It's more expensive than the first three put together, Henry," she said.

"And yet," he smiled. "We'll take it, along with these pumps," he said, presenting the shoes.

"Shouldn't the lady try them on, first?" the shop woman asked.

"Oh, but of course," Henry said, presenting the shoes to Eliza.

She slipped them on over her bare feet, and unsurprisingly, they fit perfectly.

"Good eye, Professor," the shop woman said.

"Nonsense," Higgins smiled. "Size eight and a half-c."

"Are they comfortable, Miss?" The shop woman asked.

Eliza wobbled a bit as she tried walking. "I'm not used to the heels," she said.

"You look stunning, Eliza," Higgins said. "And one can't go about forever in just a pair of trainers, can they, Mrs. Peirce."

The shop woman smiled. "Shall I wrap these up for you?"

"No," Henry said. "She needs to break them in before tonight. However, perhaps a fashionable overcoat to complete the look? Something she can take off when she meets her young man, like a curtain to be pulled away from the Rembrandt at an exposition?"

The woman nodded and went off.

"Henry," Eliza said, wobbling closer to him. "There's another problem."

"What now?"

"Well, I know I just agreed to dinner, but afterward..."

"Yes?"

"Well, what if I want to go dancing?"

"Dancing?"

"You know. You eat, and then you walk, and well, I practically threw myself at him yesterday, and he rebuffed me. So, I thought... Well, I'd like it if he took me dancing."

"Sensible," Henry nodded.

Mrs. Peirce returned with a black camel-hair carcoat lined in white silk. Eliza let the woman put it on over the LBD. Higgins nodded his approval, and the woman went back to the front of the shop to ring up their purchases.

"Well, Henry. I don't know how."

Higgins, who had been shuffling through his pockets in search of his credit card, stopped. "Oh," he said. "I see."

Mrs. Pierce returned with the bill and a large plastic bag. "For the young ladies things," she said. "With our compliments."

Higgins found his credit card and sent the woman back to her register. He moved to the changing stall and gathered up Eliza's discarded clothing and trainers into the bag. "Hmm, well, how much time do we have until your date?"

"It's at 7. I said I'd meet him in the quad."

Higgins nodded. Mrs. Pierce arrived with the bill for him to sign. He pocketed the receipt and presented his arm. "Not a moment to lose, then," he said. "Our next stop is the lab."

"The lab?"

"Trust me, girl."

They walked the four blocks from the dress shop back to the lab, Eliza cursing every few paces as she struggled to adapt to the high heeled shoes. "A man invented these," she said.

"I believe those are actually Coco Chanel," Henry said. "So, in fact, the blame lies with a french woman who died in 1971."

Once at the lab, Henry allowed Eliza to kick off the heels. "We'll learn the steps first," he said. "Then once you've mastered them, we'll graduate to attempting them in heels."

"Thank God," Eliza sighed. "You know, you could have forgone the whole pain and discomfort thing when it came to designing me, Henry."

"Life is pain, Eliza. Now," he went to his computer and opened a program. "We'll start with a box-step. It's simple, and you can dance it to practically any type of modern music."

The music swelled from the hidden speakers in the lab. Eliza recognized the orchestral opening.

"Etta James," she said.

"Excellent, Eliza. Now, traditionally the man leads. So," he took both her hands in his. "Watch my feet and keep to the beat. If I put my foot forward, you put the corresponding foot back. Understand?"

"No."

Etta James belted out her first words... "At Last... My love has come along..."

Henry stepped forward with his right foot, almost stepping on Eliza's left. She drew it back instinctively. "See," he smiled. "Now I move my left foot to the side. And your right foot follows..."

Eliza moved her right foot to the side.

"Excellent. And my left foot goes back, and your right foot follows..."

Eliza mirrored. "Oh," she said. "I see."

"And then I step again back to where I started, and you follow..."

"Simple."

"And that's it. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Now keep with the beat. And..."

Suddenly Henry's right hand went around her waist. "And your hand goes up to my shoulder," he said.

Eliza giggled. "You've taught this before?"

"No," he smiled. "But you're a quick study. And I love dancing to this song."

They went a few rounds in the box step. "Now, if your young man knows his stuff, he might try a twirl or a dip at the right moment."

"What's a twirl?"

Henry pushed her waist and sent her away from him and caught her with his left hand, spinning her and capturing her back in the same embrace. "Something you've just proven you're remarkably adept at letting happen," he smiled.

"And a dip?"

"Not yet," Henry smiled. "With this song, it happens at the end when the music swells and the tempo slows."

"Can't wait."

They finished a few more measures, holding each other closely. Eliza smelled Henry's aftershave lotion and felt his hand on her waist, very aware that he was somehow lost in the moment and remembering dancing like this with someone else. The music finally swelled, and the tempo slowed. "Now, I've got you," he said. "Hold my shoulder for balance and keep your right foot as the fulcrum for your balance."

Eliza felt dipped back, and she smiled as Henry kissed her neck.

"Are are dance lessons like this?"

"No," Henry chuckled. "And if your young man kisses you like that on a first date, I definitely don't approve of his intentions."

"Well, it might be our second date," Eliza said.

"You kissed him in a shower after a night of passion with his two flatmates?"

"Yes."

"It's your first date." Henry went back to the computer and selected another song. "Now, a simple waltz, I should think?"

Over the next two hours, they practiced the waltz, the foxtrot, the samba, the mambo, and the charleston. Each lesson Eliza mastered in a matter of less than a minute. She finally donned the heals and made it through each without tripping or Henry stepping on her toes.

"Okay," Henry said. He'd shed his jacket and selected a song at the computer. "Now this is called a 'Tango,'" he said. "It's mostly improvisational but lots of deep dips, and when I twirl you, I won't necessarily catch you. You might have to spin and return to me. The point is to do it with passion, and when I, as the leader, send you away, your goal is to return seductively and press your body as close to mine as you can. Understand the concept?"

"I believe I will in a few moments," Eliza said.

The music started. Henry gripped her roughly as the first few bars of the music started. He seemed to linger, his face moving from beside her left ear and scanning down her neck as if looking for a place to plant a kiss. The piano thumped to life, and he pushed her away, grabbing her wrist before she could twirl and bringing her back, his right hand holding hers away from the two of them and walking one... two... three long steps over the moans of a passionate violin.

Eliza felt the sensuality of the music and went along with the steps. When he dipped her, she trusted him. When he twirled her the first time, he caught her, and she came back into his arms. "Bravo, Eliza," he said.

"I googled 'Dancing with the Stars' about halfway through the first lesson," she confessed.

"Halfway?" Henry asked.

"Well, .789 seconds in," she said. "But, for a computer, that's a lifetime."

They finished the tango with a scandalous spin. Henry missed her but instead stood resolute as she twirled solo and stopped herself, coming back and circling him, her hand touching his left shoulder as she hung off him and spun around him like a fixed statue, or... (Eliza smirked as she thought of it) Like a stripper's pole.

She ended on her knees, and he pulled her up.

"Where did you learn to dance," she asked.

"A place called 'Missy's," he said, producing a handkerchief from his back pocket. He wiped a bit of perspiration from his face. "Aurora, Illinois. Eight weeks of lessons at $30 an hour. Preparation for our wedding."

"You mean your wedding," Eliza corrected.

Henry tucked the handkerchief back into his trouser pocket. "Quite so," he said. He moved to shut down the music app on the computer and reached for his jacket.

"Henry..." she stopped him, putting on his jacket. "Did you make me because you wanted her back?"

He put the jacket back on the stool and turned, crossing his arms. "Initially," he said. "But after the first few weeks, I knew I could never have her, my Eliza, back. Still, I knew what I had started needed to be finished. You were as much the focus of her life as you have been of mine," he said. "And... "

"And?"

"Well," he said. "A car accident is such a random thing. It's not like a long illness where you have time to make peace with the inevitable. I never got to hold her once last time."

Eliza watched the tears well up in her creator's eyes.

"I didn't get a last dance. I didn't get a last morning with her brewing the coffee and muttering over how crooked my tie was or how I'd forgotten to comb my hair. I didn't get to make love with her, knowing it was for the last time."

She walked over to him and put her thumbs under his eyes. "You can cry, Henry," she said. "I won't tell anyone."

He laughed through the tears. "I miss you, Elisabeth."

"She knows, Henry. Wherever she is, she knows."

Higgins wiped away his tears with the backs of both his hands.

"It's nearly 7," He said. "Don't forget your coat. Wouldn't do to keep your young Freddie waiting."

"I'm not sure I want to go, now, Henry."

"Oh, come now. Why not."

"I'm not sure I want to fall in love. It seems so painful."

"Life is pain, Eliza," he said, gripping both her hands. "But if you're lucky, it's a pain from which you learn to grow. Without this pain, you wouldn't be here. You go, now. Meet your Freddie. I'll be fine."

"Lesson assimilated, Professor," Eliza said. "Try not to work too late."