the Dance

by Alison G. Bailey

  There was a slight tremble in my fingers as I peeled back the paper and tore the muffin in half.

  “Bryson, if this is going to be a problem then I’ll leave. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable and on guard all the time.”

  I placed the crumbling muffin on a napkin. “It’s just weird having you here like this. We’ve barely spoken in months and now we’re living under the same roof.”

  “It’s not like we haven’t done that before,” he said, giving me a weak smile.

  “It’s different now. I’m different now.” I tried to keep my eyes focused on him, so he could see my confidence. It lasted for about a second and a half before my gaze fell to the floor.

  The room filled with the sound of footsteps coming toward me. Will put his index finger underneath my chin and tilted my gaze up to meet his.

  “So am I.” His gaze traveled down to my lips.

  Turning my head, I pulled my chin away. “Will, don’t touch me like that.”

  He dropped his hand and took a step back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.” Regret filled his eyes. “I wish I would have been the man you deserved.”

  “Did you ever want to be?”

  “I don’t think I could be.” Pausing for a moment, he collected his thoughts. “I know you won’t believe me but I did care for you, Bryson. I still do. The type of person I was . . . am had nothing to do with you.” He paused. “I’ve always idolized my dad. I tried to be the perfect son. The son he deserved. He wanted all A’s in school, I got all A’s. He wanted me to play football, I played football. He wanted me to take over the company, I was going to take over the company. He wanted me to marry a good girl, I married a good girl. But I was never the perfect son. Alex had his problems but at least he was brave enough to be himself.” Pause. “The online stuff was an escape that got out of hand. Men think with their dicks. But it’s the lack of character in the man that allows himself to be led by it.” He looked at me with watery eyes. “I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough because you were. I just wasn’t.”

  Will had never told me he was sorry for his role in our marriage ending. He justified his actions, watering them down and blaming me for overreacting. I hated that it took an illness for him to realize how much he’d hurt me. But I was grateful that he’d found the strength and the perfect words to apologize.

  I reached out and took his hand. Giving it a slight squeeze, I whispered, “Thank you.”

  It made me sad that both Will and I had gotten caught up in the current of our lives. In a sense we’d both been pretending all those years, neither one of us having enough courage to step out of the path we were headed down. Looking back I realized there were several different versions of Will. The version his friends liked. The version his parents wanted. And the version I pretended existed. He was like an actor in his own life. Playing to his audience, giving each what they wanted. But it wasn’t real. This disease not only forced him to reflect on his life, it also freed him from the illusion he’d been trying to live.

  I tugged on the handle of the storm door but it was locked. Just as I was about to press the doorbell the front door opened revealing everything I ever wanted in life.

  Hart flipped the lock on the storm door and pushed it open. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” I sighed.

  “What are you doing here? I thought it was girl’s night.”

  Since mine and Hart’s schedules were getting even busier, I ended up cutting girl’s night with Sophie short. I made it through dinner but thoughts of my boyfriend got the better of me. I missed him and knew I’d never make it through a movie. Thank god Sophie understood and gave me a raincheck.

  Winking, I said, “I’m girly enough.”

  His gaze roamed the length of me, causing multiple vibrations to invade my body. “You are the perfect amount.”

  “So, what’s a girl gotta do to get invited inside?”

  “Drop her panties at the door.”

  My cheeks flushed. “Hart!”

  “Bryson! What do you expect? You show up on my front porch looking all sexy in your wool coat and little knit hat. Flirtin’.”

  I tilted my head to the side and gave him my best pouty look. “Are you going to let me in?”

  “Are you going to drop your panties?”

  God, he makes me happy and hot.

  I rolled my eyes. “Not out here. It’s like forty degrees. Let me in.”

  Hart shook his head. “Sorry, rules are rules. Drop ‘em or no entry.”

  Darting my gaze from side-to-side, I made sure Miss Polly wasn’t peeking out her window or any of the neighbors were walking by. I blew out a breath. It was a good thing I wore a dress tonight. Looking at Hart directly in the eye, I reached under my coat and slid the dark purple lace down and off.

  Dangling the delicate material on the tip of my finger, I said, “Happy?”

  Hart’s gaze bounced from my face to my lacy drawers. “I will be once you come in here and sit on my face.”

  My knees caved in toward each other. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to make it inside. Hart had a way of rendering me completely immobile with just a few words. He reached up taking the other end of my panties between his fingers and guided me through the door.

  Once inside I couldn’t believe what I saw. The room was dark except for the flickering candles covering every flat surface. Turn Me On by Nora Jones flowed from the speakers.

  “Ho-ow . . . how did you know?” I stammered.

  We were still connected by the purple lace between us.

  “Sophie ratted you out. She called me after y’all left the restaurant.”

  “What’s all this for?”

  Hart’s blue gray gaze locked with mine. “Because I’m in love with you.”

  My chin quivered as my eyebrows squished together. Gulping several times, I tried to keep my sobs down.

  A look of horror crossed Hart’s face. “Don’t cry.”

  Drawing in a ragged breath, I said, “I can’t help it. You’re beyond sweet.”

  “I can dick-it up if you want.”

  My hands flew to cover my mouth as sniffles, snot, and laughter came out of me.

  “I need a tissue or something.”

  Hart raised the lacy material. “Here.”

  “Not my panties!”

  “Oh . . . yeah.” He shoved his hand deep into his front pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “Use this.”

  I snatched the cloth from Hart’s grip, wiped my tears and blew my nose. I was so overwhelmed with emotion I had no recollection of my clothes and Hart’s shirt coming off. In only my matching bra I straddled Hart in his chair. With his hands gliding up my thigh and hips, his tongue explored every inch of my mouth.

  He slowly pulled away from the kiss until it was broken.

  Taking my hand, he placed it over his heart as he gazed at me intently. “Bryson, do you feel that?”

  His heartbeat felt so powerful slamming against his chest it caused my hand to tingle.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Only you do that to me.” Leaning in he placed a gentle kiss on my lips but didn’t pull away. “And do you feel me between your legs?”

  I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

  “Only you do that to me.” He paused. “I love you. I only see you. And I’ll never give you any reason to doubt me.”

  A steady stream of tears ran down my cheeks. I was completely speechless. There wasn’t a word in the English language that would come close to expressing how much I loved and adored Hart. By the look on his face I knew he understood my reaction.

  If going through days of pain, months of heartache and years of disappointment was what had to happen in order to have this incredible man in my life then it was worth every second.

  “Bryson, what’s the ETA on those mini quiches!” Nancy shouted across the noisy kitchen.

  “About five more minutes!”

  “Don’t give me abouts, give me definits.”


  “Five minutes!”

  The catering kitchen was the busiest I’d ever seen in one day. It was the week before Christmas and we had three big events scheduled for this evening, two holiday parties, and one wedding reception.

  Who the hell gets married the week before Christmas?

  Nancy was headed to Boone Hall Plantation in Mount Pleasant. Sam, the head chef, was scheduled to be at the Gaillard Auditorium in downtown Charleston, and I was in charge of the wedding reception at Hibernian Hall. This was by far the biggest event Nancy had ever put me in charge of. One hundred fifty guests had been invited to this wedding. Add in the equal amount of plus-ones and a handful of tag-ons, and we’re talking three hundred twenty five mouths to feed.

  The timer on my phone dinged letting me know Nancy’s quiches were ready. I weaved my way through the bustling kitchen to the oven. The delivery van was all loaded up and parked out behind the building. As quickly as possible, I boxed up the tiny appetizers and took them outside. The cold air hitting my face was a welcome relief. The kitchen had to be more than a hundred degrees from the ovens alone. Between that and the human body factor, it felt like the tropics. After loading the boxes into the van, I popped the side of the vehicle, letting Chris, the driver, know he was good to go.

  Glancing at my watch, I saw that I had a little breathing room. My crew didn’t have to head out to the Hibernian for another couple of hours, allowing me a minute and a half to cool down before going back into the sweltering building. Taking off my white Good Eats cap, I pulled the band out of my messy ponytail and redid it. Just as I was putting the cap back on my phone went off with a text. Usually, when I was working I didn’t check my messages until lunch or I was at an event since Nancy preferred to communicate via text.

  I shoved my hand in my pants pocket, pulled out the phone and did a quick check. Nancy was the only name not listed in the series of texts. The first one made me smile.

  Hart: Good luck today with the reception. Your sweet little ass is gonna kick ass.

  I couldn’t help but send him a quick response.

  Me: Had a minute to check texts. Yours brightened my day. Thank you. I love you. Call you when I’m done.

  Hart: Love you.

  I planned on leaving the other texts until later but curiosity got the better of me. I quickly scrolled down the screen.

  Will, 10:45 a.m.: Not feeling well. Gonna try to see the doc.

  Will, 11:30 a.m.: Can’t stop coughing. Weak. Dr. R can see me in an hour. Not sure if I can drive.

  Will, 12:15 p.m.: Coughing up blood. Meeting Dr. R at Saint Francis ER.

  I clicked on Will’s number. The phone rang once and then went straight to voicemail. I didn’t bother leaving a message. I wasn’t sure what to do. I’d noticed over the past week or so, he stayed at home in his room more. Since it was cold and flu season, I assumed he didn’t want to expose himself to a lot of people. I talked with him last night and he seemed fine. This morning he slept in so I didn’t see him before leaving for work.

  Checking the time, the last text was sent twenty minutes ago. However Will was getting to the hospital, it would take him at least twenty minutes from our house. My chest tightened. There was no mention that Will wanted me to meet him at the hospital. Nancy was counting on me. She was high-strung and stayed in a constant state of stress on a slow day. If I told her I needed to bail due to an emergency her head would probably explode. I could make a quick call to the hospital and have one of the nurses get a message to him that I’d be there right after the reception tonight. I thought about calling to see if Sophie was available but then remembered she was out of town. Besides, the arrangement between Will and I was just that, between Will and I. It was not my family’s or friend’s responsibility to pick up my slack.

  The hospital was just around the corner, less than five minutes away. Everything was lined up and on schedule for the reception. I could run over, check on Will, and be back in plenty of time to leave for the hall. Heading back inside, I searched for Tommy, my second in command. He’d joined the Good Eats crew the same week I did. Over the past months we’d developed a great chemistry working with each other. Usually he was calm, collected, and confident. When I told him I had to run out for a while his face turned whiter than our chef’s jackets. After he recovered from hyperventilating, I left him in charge and headed to the hospital.

  Pulling into the hospital, I headed around to the side of the building where the ER entrance was located. Just as I was about to step up on the sidewalk the back doors to an ambulance flew open. I stopped as the EMTs rolled the stretcher out from the back. I tried not to be a rubbernecker and look. I mean, if I were in that situation I wouldn’t want to be gawked at. When I glanced away, I heard a familiar cough. I looked over to see a pale Will sitting up slightly under a white blanket with an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth. The tall, dark, and handsome football hero was gone, replaced by a fragile and scared young man.

  The two EMTs briskly pushed the stretcher toward the entrance.

  I ran to the stretcher. “Will, are you okay?!”

  He looked at me with glassy eyes and my heart broke.

  “Ma’am, you need to step to the side.” The woman ordered.

  Will’s body violently jolted forward as a congested cough echoed inside the oxygen mask.

  “Is he going to be okay?”

  Not slowing down, the male EMT said, “Ma’am, please! Let us do our job.”

  I followed behind them into the crowded waiting area. Without stopping they rolled Will down the hall, around the corner, and out of sight.

  I walked to the check-in desk. “Hi, is Dr. Rudolph here?”

  The nurse clicked a couple of things on the screen. “He’s with a patient who was just brought in.”

  “I need to talk with him about that patient.”

  Her eyes lifted to me as if I were crazy. “And who might you be?”

  “I know the patient.”

  “Are you a close relative?”

  I hesitated for a moment, not quite sure how to answer her question. This right here was what the arrangement was all about.

  “I’m his wi . . . wife.”

  The nurses clicked around on her computer for what felt like hours.

  “Bryson.” The deep baritone of Dr. Rudolph’s voice hit my ears.

  I turned to his caring expression. “Is Will okay?”

  “Let’s go where we can talk.”

  Dr. Rudolph led me down a narrow hallway. We passed several closed doors with signs that read Consult Room. He opened the door to room five, stepping aside to let me in first.

  “Have a seat, Bryson.” He motioned toward the pair of chairs.

  As he took the seat across from me, I glanced at the clock over his head. I had ten minutes to listen to what he had to tell me and check on Will before I had to bolt out of here.

  A warm smile appeared across Dr. Rudolph’s face. “Will explained your arrangement.”

  I tried to keep my shocked expression to a minimum. I knew Will had been a patient of Dr. Rudolph’s for a while and they had formed a close friendship. I didn’t realize how close until now. The first time I’d met the doctor, Will introduced me as Bryson. I wasn’t sure at the time he even knew we were married.

  “I have to commend you for what you’ve agreed to do, Bryson. Not many people would be so generous.”

  “Is Will going to be okay? He didn’t appear sick yesterday.”

  “I don’t know how much you know about the disease.”

  “I’ve done some research since I found out about Will but I haven’t had a lot of time . . . Oh, I did watch that Tom Hanks movie.”

  I suddenly felt like a heartless idiot, not making the time to find out everything about the disease.

  “There have been a lot of strides in the treatment of HIV and AIDS. People are living better and longer. Many lead productive and active lives.”

  Insert but here.

  “I’ve been specializing in
this field since the late 1980s. I’ve seen just about everything there is to see related to the disease.”

  I snuck another glance at the clock. Eight minutes and counting.

  “Has Will explained everything about his situation to you?”

  “Obviously, I can tell he’s lost weight. I know about the spots on his neck and he told me he had a few spots on his lung.”

  “In all my years of working with HIV and AIDS, I’ve never seen a case like Will’s. The disease has taken over his body like wildfire. A person in his condition has usually been living with AIDS for several years.”

  “I’m sorry but I’m not sure what you’re trying to tell me.”

  “Will has pneumonia. His lungs are compromised due to the Kaposi sarcoma, which makes things even worse. I’ve admitted him. Hopefully he’ll be able to go home in the next few days. Bryson, you need to prepare yourself before Will is released. The next two months aren’t going to be easy for either one of you.”

  Two months? I forgot all about the clock on the wall.

  I stared at Dr. Rudolph. This was the first time I’d heard an exact number attached to Will’s life expectancy. He never spoke in specifics, always saying he had months to go. Months could be an indefinite number. The sound of the deep baritone snapped me into the present.

  “Bryson, I’m going to give you some information to look over. It’s not just about the disease and the patient but about the caregiver as well. Since you’re Will’s only support you need to have a clear understanding of what you’re in for.”

  My eyes misted over as I slowly nodded. “Can I see Will?”

  “Sure. We have him on oxygen. He’s pretty tired, so not too long of a visit, okay. While you’re with him, I’ll have the nurse gather that information and it will be waiting for you at the desk out front.” He stood. “Bryson, remember Will’s not the only one who’ll need support.”

  “Okay.” The one word came out in a daze.