There was nothing that rejoiced her heart more than music, the soothing passion hidden behind each note. Ms. Ant was Mr. Brants' favorite student and he liked her dry sense of humor although sometimes it aggravated him to death. Ms. Ant was very generous with her love. No matter where you came from or who you were, she was always ready to offer her hospitality.

When Professor Brants looked back as he commanded the ladies to come forward, he saw Ms. Ant messing up the steps again. She always made up her own moves, barely following his instructions.

"Ms. Ant, are you alright?" Asked Mr. Brants after a brief struggle to keep his composure. Hearing him taking a step forward, Ms. Ant pointed her walking stick at him.

"I fear that if you approach closer, you might get hurt Mr. blue eyes," she warned.

"Then I'll be blessed being beaten up today," responded Brants with a head shake.
He walked around and asked for her permission to set her cane to the side, so he could teach her the steps one more time. He was patient with her despite her impairment while they danced to the Waltz instrumental playing in the background.

Looking at how stiff she was, her comrades sneered at her. She was the oldest of the group which consisted mostly of teens. Mr. Brants sighed as Ms. Ant kept stepping on his feet. He wanted to encourage her while he couldn't stop thinking about how bad of a dancer she was. Yet he was glad that Ms. Ant achieved her goal of losing 100 pounds, except that she was left with excess skin hanging down her lap.

Ms. Ant was scheduled to have surgery two days prior to her waltz lesson and missed it since she feared that something would go wrong. Playing around and cracking jokes at everybody were her ways to keep her mind off of her trials. Although Mr. Brants had known her for only a year, he knew when her behavior was unusual.

"Okay class, so we are going to practice the box steps," Mr. Brants said recoiling and letting go of Ms. Ant's hands, handing her cane back. She had a huge afro and black shades on with a small pair of earrings. No makeup, though her face was shiny because of the heavy amount of moisturizing creams she used to avoid sunburn. She couldn't believe that she was already in her mid-forties. Getting old and having to deal with the loss of her husband and daughter Clementine seemed very difficult. Life wasn't as rosy as it used to be for her.

"You all did amazing! We'll resume our lessons tomorrow, exactly at five o'clock. I hope nobody comes late," Mr. Brants gave her the usual warning side-eye, "for they'll remain outside."

Ms. Ant giggled and mimicked him, repeating what he said. "I don't think it'd be nice to leave a blind student outside."

Some of the gentlemen who danced with her before were snickering about her body shape, saying that she looked like a deformed minion. "What y'all laughin' at?" She asked, holding onto her cane, trying to direct herself to their location. She wasn't bothered being a subject of bullying since she was a bully herself. She was the last person anyone would like to get on their rough side.

As she was going to throw her hard comeback at them, one of the young girls said something. "Clearly, you don't belong here, so what do you expect?"

Ms. Ant placed her cane under her armpit and turned around. "Who said that?" She asked even though she already recognized her voice. It was Stephanie, the young drama queen of the group.

"You have no respect for your elders, do you?" Ms. Ant smirked, knowing that she wasn't going to be gentle with the 19-year-old. Sadly, she had to deal with those young ones who barely knew what adulting was about.

"Next time you would like to tell me this, check if your eyebrows are also in the right place," Ms. Ant said, "I heard from your friends that they look uneven, like bumpy roads."

Stephanie gasped, catching her friends laughing. She touched her eyebrows and turned her face away. Her cheeks puffed up as someone who was holding back a whimper. Ms. Ant had more to say, but having some pity for Stephanie who could have been her daughter, she decided to leave her alone.
Mr. Brants purposely allowed the class to keep laughing at the joke since he couldn't stand Stephanie for her attitude. He couldn't be biased as a professor, but he knew that his undercover best friend got his back.

"I think that's enough!" Mr. Brants shouted. "It's time for you guys to clear up this room. If you notice something from the floor, pick it up. I want to see no roaches around. Keep them to yourselves!"

"Mr. Brants is like the police," one of the boys said, "always interfering after all the drama is over." The group burst out laughing as they headed to the door to leave, except Stephanie's friends who were still embarrassed about not jumping to her defense.

After everyone was dismissed, Mr. Brants closed the door and came to his best friend asking what was wrong. Ms. Ant remained silent, refusing to let him know about the bad news. Mr. Brants slowly took her hands and offered to take her to a cafe for a chat. She was not willing, but due to his persistence, Ms. Ant accepted.

"Don't try to hold my hands," she warned with a humorous frown, "I am not a child. Besides, what if your wife comes—"

"I am a widow, Ms. Ant! Remember?" reminded Mr. Brants taking her hand to help her walk.

"That's what my husband used to say to every woman he has met," Ms. Ant said. It was not a joke and Mr. Brants made no comments.

They arrived at the coffee shop and placed their orders. Ms. Ant picked a vanilla bean smoothie and Mr. Brants, a strawberry ice tea with whipped cream. He took the drinks and put them on the small table before pulling the chair for Ms. Ant to sit.

Ms. Ant grabbed her drink, however, her hands were shaking. Mr. Brants clasped her hands and asked, "something happened?"

Thanks to his reluctance to leave the matter alone, Ms. Ant allowed her sorrow to break free. Tears ran down her face and she hated that even her shades couldn't help hide them. She put her head down and cracked the bad news to him.

"I had my dialysis treatment yesterday, but I also had to pick up my blood test results..." she inhaled, with one hand placed on her chest. "I have HIV."

"I'm so sorry..." Mr. Brants whispered as his eyes glistened with empathizing tears.

"My husband got me infected, I guess a few months before he and our daughter had the accident."

"What can I do to help?" he asked.

"Keep being the kind human you are and make me laugh. I have been a dancer all my existence, dancing through the perils of life," she wiped her face, "now I want to learn a different kind of dance, and new songs."

Mr. Brants wanted to take her into his arms to comfort her. But he kept listening, not wanting to interrupt. He envied her courage, for she never allowed sadness to retain her in a bubble after her husband's betrayal and daughter's demise.

She used to go to her doctor's appointments for her dialysis treatment every single week alone. Not excluding that she was blind and missed her son who wasn't back yet from England. He was pursuing a degree in business and promised that he'd visit her. Although he never did what he promised, Ms. Ant was happy that he was following his dream.

"By the way, are we on a date? I see my hands trapped between yours. What's going on?" She said, snapping out of her mourning. Brants was glad to see her back at her normal state, but he knew she was trying to mask her pain and avoid talking about it.

"What if it was?" Mr. Brants teased.

Ms. Ant fixed her shades and took a sip of her smoothie. "I'd say you're crazy. You should be afraid of being even close to me right now."

Brants asked her out before, multiple times and despite her constant rejections, he has never given up trying to earn her heart.

Brants slowly pushed his chair back. "I think I'd be insane if I didn't decide to do what I'm about to do today..."

"What are you doing?" questioned Ms. Ant trying to make sense of what was happening.

Mr. Brants dropped to one knee and reached for a tiny box from his pocket. Ms. Ant kept hearing people awing at Brants in the background. She took another sip of her smoothie and pulled her cane, wondering if she should leave. The noises and Mr. Brants' delay to answer put her mind in immediate torture.
"You're making me nervous, Mr. Brants. Is everything ok in here?" she questioned furrowing her eyebrows.

"Everything is okay," he replied. "I have an important question to ask. It's been a while since we've known each other, and you've become my best friend. You may feel that it's happening too fast, but Ms. Ant Laukson, would you marry me?"

"What?" she laughed. "What are you saying? You make the worst jokes at the wrong place every time."

"Please, say yes."

People started clapping and shouting around her, and Ms. Ant did not want to embarrass Mr. Brants and fool herself into thinking it was real. She grabbed her cane ready to walk away, assuming that Brants was proposing out of pity.

"If you're doing this to comfort me, there are other ways to do so" she whispered, "tell those people that I am ill and I will ruin your life if I go along with your madness. To be frank with you, this sounds desperate!"

She stormed off, and of course, with her favorite smoothie in hand. The place fell awkwardly silent. Brants, processing Ms.Ant's reaction, took a minute to put the ring box in his pocket. He stood up and then sprinted out of the coffee shop. He saw Ms. Ant's back getting into a taxi. Mr. Brants got to his car and followed her.

Ms. Ant stopped by a cemetery and Brants parked his car waiting for her to get inside. He watched her walk in and stop by a young girl's grave, her daughter's, Clementine. Brants quietly appeared behind her saying, "I think Clementine would've agreed that her beautiful mom should give a desperate man like me a chance to find love again." He sat on the ground next to her.

His voice startled her, but she didn't show it. At least, she didn't have to grieve alone.  "I have nothing to lose, my little charming ant," Mr. Brants whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks and gazing at her. "I"m a professor, but I have so much to learn from you."
"I don't dance well," sobbed Ms. Ant, "you always say that. What else could you possibly learn from me?"

Mr. Brants removed Ms. Ant's shades and slid his hand behind the nape of her neck. "But your kind of dance is different. It's the one that you do through fire and thorns, with courage and hope when our worlds collide. The one that only you can teach me!"

"I don't believe I can, because I'm tired," she sniffled, slowly stretching her arm to find his face. She touched his wrist, then his chest, and felt his heartbeat. "You're nervous."

"Yes," giggled Mr. Brants, "even tired you manage to make my heart dance with joy. I  want you to be my dance partner forever, as long as it can last."

Ms. Ant leaned forward and held his face, exploring each fraction of it. Mr. Brants nuzzled her as their foreheads touched. The clear skies started to turn gray, and they did not realize it until a few drops of rain drizzled on them. Ms. Ant tuned out the sound of the rain and listened to Mr. Brants' chuckling as he enjoyed having her lips one inch from his.

His lips crashed with hers, and Ms. Ant slowly eased into it and drew Mr. Brants closer. But he pulled away when he remembered also having some bad news to share. He feared ruining the moment, nonetheless he judged it necessary to let her know. He had waited for a long time to have her that close to him, her arms wrapped around his back as if he was her only shelter and hope. Brants loved Ms. Ant and wanted to be by her side for the rest of his life.

"I have something to say," he said.

"Go ahead," urged Ms. Ant, adjusting to the overwhelming factor that she's kissed her dance professor, a handsome and charming man in his late fifties, teaching her that she was still desirable and able to feel vulnerable.

"I am in my last stage of cancer. You can't see it, but I'm half bald," he chortled as his eyes filled with tears. "I keep losing my strength, so I'm starting to count my days."

They shared a moment of silence before Ms. Ant's voice cracked into a whimper. "No. That can't be! Brants..."

"It's ok," he said locking his arms around her.

"I didn't want my days to end without confessing how I feel about you. I wasted too many years holding back! Now, I don't want to play it safe. I refuse to spend any more days not waking up next to you in the morning and seeing you before I fall asleep at night. I got nothing to lose, my charming little Ant."

"We kissed, Brants. Now, I'm scared of the day where these words will turn into memories." Ms. Ant said, and her voice trailed away as Brants kissed her again.

"Memories are gifts, why be afraid of them? We'll build good ones together and I promise, I'll make sure they're beautiful and they fill you with joy until the end. Please, I beg you! Marry me."

Brants took out the ring and knelt, asking her the question hoping for her to say yes. He dried her tears and held her hand. Ms. Ant nodded and allowed him to slide the ring onto her finger. Brants helped her stand and they waltzed in the rain.

A smile formed on her lips, then she let out a burst of laughter realizing she stepped on Brants' foot. And that laughter never ceased, not even after he said his goodbyes two years following their fairy-themed wedding—as requested by Ms. Ant.

As Mr. Brants said, the memories of their love were a gift, and they held Ms. Ant alive long enough to see her son again. He moved from England to the United States and lived with his mom, caring for her while leading his small company. He wrote a book about his mom and Brants, how they found love, so even gone, their story remained alive.