the Dance

by Alison G. Bailey

  Me: Ditto. Y’all both look gorgeous.

  As I plugged my phone in and slid it on the small table beside the sofa, I caught Will staring at me.

  “What?”

  Pointing the remote at the TV, he turned down the volume. “Text from Hart?”

  My gaze dropped. I felt a twinge of guilt in my chest. I didn’t want Will to see the happiness in my eyes.

  “Bryson, does he make you happy?”

  I hesitated before finally looking at him. “Yes.”

  “He loves you very much.”

  “Will, I feel kind of weird discussing Hart with you.”

  “Did you know he stops by here almost every night?”

  My expression went slack. “What are you talking about?”

  “The second night I was here, he stopped in late. You were at home. I don’t think he’d planned on talking to me but I happened to be awake. Still not quite sure how he talked fuck-face Estelle . . .”

  My hand flew to cover my mouth. “Oh my god, Will! That’s a horrible thing to say.”

  “What?! Her face is always scrunched up like someone’s giving it to her in the back.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle a laugh. “Be that as it may, you shouldn’t call her that. It’s not nice.”

  “Fine. I don’t know how he talked Estelle into letting him through that time of night.”

  The corners of my mouth drifted up into a smile. “Hart has ways. Also his mother had been a patient a long time ago. Maybe Estelle was here then.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me. Estelle looks like she’s been around a looong time, squared.”

  I shook my head as my curiosity soared to the moon wondering what a conversation between Hart and Will looked like.

  “He claimed to be checking up on me but I could see the disappointment in his eyes when he realized you weren’t here. I made a point the next night to stay awake to see if he came. He did. He stared at you for a minute and then left. The times I’ve been awake, he catches my eye, nods, and leaves.”

  “So y’all never talk?”

  “Not since the first night. He asked how I was handling things. It was brief.”

  “I talk or text with him every day. He never mentioned coming by here.”

  “I think he just needs to see for himself that you’re okay.”

  Clutching the blanket to my chest, I closed my eyes, determined not to get weepy.

  “He’s a good man, Bryson. He’s the man you deserved all along.”

  That night I stayed awake to see if it was true. Around 11 p.m., I thought I heard the quiet creak of the door. Peeking out from underneath my blanket, I saw him. Hart had the door opened halfway as he stared at me, making sure I was okay, and then left. Just like Will said.

  Loss of Appetite

  “Stop treating me like a fucking baby!”

  “If you’d stop acting like one then I would. Just eat a couple of spoonfuls. You love butterscotch,” I said, holding the spoon of pudding to his mouth.

  Will turned his head away, refusing to take even one bite. “Give the dying man a break! I don’t want any.”

  “Will, the only thing you’ve had in the past two days is half of a turkey sandwich and a cup of coffee. You have to eat.”

  Turning, he glared at me. “Why?”

  “They’ll stick a feeding tube in you if you don’t start eating.”

  “Bryson, stop it! I don’t feel like eating and there’s not going to be a feeding tube.”

  Tears pricked behind my eyes. I knew he was right. Food had always been my way of showing people how much I cared. Will’s eating had begun slowing down when he was admitted to the hospital for pneumonia. But at least he was still eating. Over the last two days his appetite had been a no show.

  Sinking the spoon back into the bowl of pudding, I placed it on the nightstand. I walked to the large picture window. Wrapping my arms around myself, I stared out at the small duck pond. A few ducks were scattered in and around the water as a white egret took off into the sky.

  It’s hard to describe how the mind works when you watch a person go through the dying process, especially someone you care about. I’ve witnessed firsthand the weight loss, the lesions, the coughing, the blood, the frailty, and weakness. I know Will’s death will come sooner rather than later. But there’s a small corner of my brain that believes if he could just hang on a little longer they’d find a cure.

  “Hart got it in his head that if he could keep her strong, she’d last long enough until they found a cure.”

  Colin’s words echoed in my head. I’d been so focused on Will’s peace of mind I’d pushed mine to the side. By the time a cure was found, if a cure was found, Will wouldn’t be here to reap the benefits. And no amount of pudding was going to change that fact.

  Weakness and Fatigue

  By the time we entered into week two, Will was too weak to get out of bed. He spent most of the day in a deep sleep. When he was awake he remained groggy for the most part. There were moments of lucidity but they were few and far between. No longer able to control his body or bodily functions, he started wearing adult diapers and the nurses were taking care of all of his needs.

  Repositioning the recliner closer to the bedside, I turned it to face Will. Late one afternoon while Will was sleeping, I sat watching him. No thoughts of the past, present, or future were in my head. I just quietly concentrated on Will.

  The sunlight shining through the window cast a warm glow over his pale skin. His dark hair was thin and brittle with a hint of gray. It looked like someone had taken their thumbs and pushed his eyes farther into his head. His cheeks were nonexistent, the bones merely there to give the skin something to hang on. The once chiseled jawline was so frail the slightest touch seemed like it would have caused it to shatter. And the mountain of blankets swallowed up his skeletal frame making it look even smaller.

  This Will looked nothing like the old Will. The new Will was humble, honest, remorseful, apologetic, and kind. Maybe I hadn’t been completely fooled by his act all those years after all. That somehow I saw glimpses of this new Will inside the old one. The Will who appreciated me and thought I deserved the best. The Will who supported my dreams of culinary school. The Will who, in his own way, did love me.

  Clearing his throat, Will began. “I, Will . . . I mean, William, take you, Bryson, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”

  The love and sincerity in his voice was overwhelming, causing my eyes to fill with tears.

  I swallowed hard and tried to hold down the emotions that kept trying to bubble to the surface. “I, Bryson, take you, William, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”

  And in the end the new Bryson was able to let the new Will know he wouldn’t be alone all the days of his life.

  Confusion

  “Ooohhh . . .”

  I startled awake at the sound of a loud long moan. I looked over to find Will on his back, thrashing his head back and forth. I jumped off the sofa and ran to his bedside.

  Sitting, I placed my hand in the middle of his chest, rubbing slow small circles, and said calmly, “Will, it’s okay. I’m here. Try to relax.” I paused, hoping my words and touch penetrated his fog of confusion. “Remember how much you loved playing football? You were such an awesome player.” The thrashing slowly subsided as I continued to rub Will’s chest. “Even I knew how good you were and I’m clueless about all of that stuff. Our first date was at one of your games.”

  “Homecoming.” The faint hint of the word swirled in the air for a split second before vanishing.

  I thought my mind and ears were playing tricks on me as I looked down at Will.

  With his head turned toward me and his eyes closed, Will whispered, “First official date.”

  A lump formed in my th
roat. “You’re right. I always considered the game you asked me to come to as our first date.”

  Placing his hand over mine, Will stopped the slow circles. And just like that he was back. Gently, I lowered down on the bed next to Will, our hands still joined together on his chest.

  “You had to bribe Sophie to go with me because I wasn’t going to go by myself. She never did tell me what you offered her.”

  “Fifty bucks.” I could barely hear him.

  “Wow, I had no idea I was worth that much.”

  “Priceless.” He sighed.

  Tears pooled in my eyes as I whispered into Will’s ear, “Thank you.”

  Will’s eyes opened halfway, his gaze drifting up to the ceiling. Raising his anorexic hand off mine, he pointed in the air at no particular thing.

  “I need my uniform cleaned. What time is the game tonight?” He mumbled.

  With tears trickling down my face, I kept my voice steady and answered. “It’s at seven o’clock. They always start at seven o’clock.”

  And just like that he was gone.

  Goodbye

  The stillness in the air was overwhelming and uncomfortable. I shifted in the recliner from side to side while mindlessly flipping through a cooking magazine in the dimly lit room.

  “Bryson.” Will’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  The past two days Will had been in and out of consciousness. Most of the time he was so out of it, mumbling incoherently and then drifting back to sleep. But on rare occasions the old Will would show back up.

  I closed the magazine and leaned forward. “Hey, sleepy head. I had no idea I was so boring.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched up like he was trying to smile.

  Will’s body had wasted away to almost nothing. There wasn’t a bone on him that wasn’t protruding through his pale sallow skin. More Kaposi lesions had developed, an especially large one had invaded his right eye, causing complete loss of vision.

  “Have I thanked you today?”

  “You sure have.”

  “Tell me about your day.” He strained to get the words out.

  The truth was my day could be summed up in a word. Sitting. But Will liked to hear what was going on outside of these walls so I started making up things based on actual events that had happened. Just not recently.

  Smoothing out his top sheet, I said, “I got up and out early. I had to go to the grocery store before I came here. When I was taking the groceries out of the car, Mrs. Ravenel came over wanting to know where I’d been since she hadn’t seen me lately.”

  “Nosy old broad.” Will joked.

  “Pretty much.”

  “What else?”

  “Oh, I got response letters from both Johnson and Wales and The Art Institute about my application.”

  I’d actually received the letters the week before Will was admitted to hospice.

  “Don’t leave me hanging.”

  “I got accepted to both culinary programs.”

  “Never doubted it for a second.” The loud wheeze escaped him as he inhaled a shallow breath. “Bryson, promise me . . .” Another loud wheeze choked him.

  My entire body seized up as tears spilled over and down my face.

  Will forced his lids up and aimed his gaze directly at me. “. . . You’ll go get your happily ever after. You deserve it.”

  Placing my hand over Will’s heart, his chest stilled as life slipped from his dark brown eyes.

  “I promise,” I whispered between sobs.

  I don’t know how long I stayed in that position before feeling the light touch of a hand on my shoulder.

  “Mrs. Forsyth, do you need anything?” I don’t even remember alerting the nurse that Will was gone.

  I swept my hands over my face, wiping away the tears. Standing, I looked at the pretty redhead with the sympathetic green eyes. I shook my head and without a word walked out of the room.

  With my gaze focused on the floor in front of me, I made my way down the hallways. Each turn brought my mind, body, and spirit to numbing exhaustion. As I rounded the last corner, my gaze drifted up to a pair of blue-gray eyes.

  “How?”

  Shaking his head slightly, Hart said, “Something in my soul told me you needed me.”

  My footsteps sped up. In one continuous motion I landed in Hart’s lap and my arms securely wrapped around him. With my face buried deep in the crook of his neck, I held on tight as we rolled out the door and into our forever.

  According to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (Last updated March 2016)

  More than 1.2 million people in the United States are living with HIV infection.

  It is estimated that almost 1 in 8 (12.8 percent) don’t know they are infected.

  From 1981 to 2013, an estimated 1,194,039 people in the United States had been diagnosed with AIDS. Of those, 658,507 have died.

  An estimated 50,000 new HIV infections occur in the U.S. each year.

  At the end of 2011, 23 percent of all people living with HIV in the United States were women.

  The vast majority of newly diagnosed HIV-positive women contracted the virus through heterosexual sex.

  Women account for 1 in 5 new HIV diagnoses and deaths caused by AIDS.

  Twenty-five percent of them are between the ages of 13 and 24.

  That means at least one teenager or young adult in this country is infected with HIV every hour of every day.

  I stood in front of the giant wall of glass. The fake sunlight shimmered down through the water, bouncing off the yellow, green, and pink coral. The blue glow of the tank gave the dimly lit room a romantic dreamy feel.

  “Bryson!”

  I turned around to a power-walking Tommy headed straight toward me with arms a-flailin’.

  “Oh my god! The entire line has come to a grinding halt because of that old lady.

  “Miss Polly?”

  “She won’t leave the mini fried chicken and waffles station.”

  Placing my hands on his shoulders, I said, “Tommy, calm down. Simple solution.”

  “You want me to kick her to the curb?”

  My face scrunched at his suggestion. “She’s eighty years old.”

  “I think I can take her.”

  “Go in the kitchen and grab a platter. Pile it high with chicken and take it to Miss Polly’s table.”

  “I would have thought of that eventually. Please don’t consider my momentary lapse in judgment as a reflection on my ability to be in charge of this event.”

  “You’re doing a great job. The place looks fantastic and the food is mouthwatering.”

  “Thanks, boss.” He spun around and power-walked away.

  It’s been three years since Will died and so much has changed. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him and thank him for what he did for me in the end. His will was so airtight his parents never bothered to contest it.

  I graduated from The Art Institute of Charleston with a degree in culinary arts. With the experience I gained working for Good Eats I was able to earn my degree in half the time it usually takes. Last year Nancy wanted to step back a little from the catering business to enjoy her grandchildren. She offered me a partnership in the company. Not only was I following my dream, I’d also been able to use my MBA degree after all.

  As my gaze scanned the room a smile crossed my face. Everyone I loved was gathered together to share this incredible moment.

  “Hey, let’s dance.”

  My gaze shifted to a pair of twinkling blue-gray eyes.

  I chuckled. “Who do you think you are ordering me to dance with you?”

  Grinning oh so sexily, Hart extended his hand. “Your husband, Mrs. Mitchell.”

  I slipped my hand in his and melted into his lap. With my palms flat against his toned tuxedo clad chest, they traveled up over his shoulders to the base of his neck. Hart rolled us onto the dance floor as the smooth voice of Tony Bennett singing “The Way You Look Tonight” flowed from the speakers.
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br />   “Have I told you how hot you are in your classic black tux, Mr. Mitchell?”

  Hart leaned forward, placing his lips against mine and whispered, “Have you seen my lovely wife? She’s uber hot. I had to up my game.”

  My dress was pretty awesome. The floor-length champagne chiffon skimmed over my skin and wrapped around my body, gathering at my hip with elegant crystal beading. Hart was a big fan of the backless aspect of the halter top.

  Hart asked me to marry him a year ago. Well, I should say Hart and Butter asked. Somehow he convinced me that camping would be fun. One weekend last fall we packed everything and went to the mountains of North Carolina. The first night while we snuggled up by the fire Hart called Butter over. The ring was dangling from a red ribbon tied around Butter’s neck. It was perfect.

  We kept the ceremony small, inviting just close friends and family. As for the reception, there was never any question it would be held here at the aquarium. Ballroom B was smaller and more intimate than the one the prom was held in. The tables were scattered on one side of the room, dressed in white linen with deep red rose centerpieces. The food, catered by Good Eats, thank you very much, was set up in the far left corner. In the far right corner was an easel with a white spotlight shining down on the painting Hope Mitchell created after hearing the prom story. It was a nice way to honor Hart’s mother and feel her presence. And the tank wall made for a gorgeous backdrop for the dance floor.