It was that hour of the night where one tended to ask the questions they were carrying with them from the evening.
We sat on the bench across from the planetarium watching the rainbow colors of the great sphere slowly shift through the spectrum of colors.
Beth had been unusually cold with me since we left the gathering at the museum, and only now was I replaying the sequence of the night in my mind.
Normally if she was upset with me she was very direct about it.
This time it was for me to figure it out.
Ten minutes of silence and the only thing I could point to was meeting a separate friend at the museum.
I introduced her correctly, using her mundane name, and the three of us had a nice conversation about the exhibit.
She finally broke the ice and asked why I didn't invite her to the demonstration.
What demonstration?
Apparently the one my friend referenced when he reminded me before saying goodnight.
That must have been the moment.
He reminded me about the upcoming demonstration this weekend for the cherry blossom festival, to make sure I was there extra early to assist with setting up.
As one of the bigger guys in the dojo, most of the heavy-lifting tasks fell to me.
Was she serious?
I told her I didn't invite her because I know she doesn't like the idea of people hitting each other, let alone watching it.
She was surprised.
Yes, I did remember that part from our late night conversation at D.'s homecoming party.
I should have invited her anyway.
But that would have created an obligation on her part, and I never wanted her to feel obligated with anything for me, especially given her responsibility in the group and that dynamic.
Was D. invited?
Yes, but he likes swords.
Beth was there.
D. was not.
When we walked out on stage and my eyes met hers, I could register the surprise.
This was the first time she saw me in hakama; I imagine it was similar to the surprise I had when I saw her in her regalia for the first time.
Once my name was called out and the enbu began, it was a different world.
My world.
After the demonstration, once I had cleaned up and was back in street clothes, I found Beth and D. waiting for me by the stage.
D. was the first to greet me, complimenting me on the demo and how great it all was.
I could tell he saw none of it.
Dinner at the pub was uneventful — just three friends talking and hanging out — D. eventually excusing himself as he had to get back to a group project he was working on.
I didn't ask.
That time of evening again, on the bench, when Beth asked me about the demonstration.
Once she got past the hitting part, she was genuinely curious about the patterns she saw, and how one memorized them, drawing a parallel from her own world.
There were no patterns; each interaction with a partner is different every time, even with the same partner.
Movement that happens once and never again.
How does one learn that?
I told her that after all these years I'm still not quite sure — it just comes from being around your teacher and doing what he does.
Along the way, something just happens.
I wanted to tell her that it was nice she came to the demonstration.
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