Cut Loose

by Julia Wolf

  “Fuck,” he muttered, raking his hand through his hair roughly. “Where was your dad in all this?”

  “Not around. He was kind of a periphery figure in my life. He let my mom raise us how she pleased, and he just wasn’t there.”

  “I’m sorry, Frannie.” He leaned his forehead against my hands for a moment, then he looked up. “Why’d you quit dancing?”

  Sucking in a ragged breath, I studied the knotty wood table. “Imagine what it’s like to go from having every aspect of your life controlled, decided on, down to what you ate and wore to complete freedom.”

  “I can imagine that would be scary,” he said gently.

  “It was terrifying. For two years, anytime I wasn’t dancing, I was scared. I hid in my apartments or hotel rooms, wherever we were staying in the cities we traveled to. I didn’t know how to function on my own and after a while even putting on a brave face to dance was too much.” I paused to wipe the tears that were formed in my eyelashes.

  After taking a shuddery breath, I continued, “One day I was on Facebook and I saw a classmate from high school had gone to cosmetology school. She had all these pictures of her mannequin heads she was practicing on and it just looked so fun. So right then and there I made the first real decision of my adult life, which turned out to be the best decision. I finished out my contract with the company and scraped together what little money I had to go to school.”

  With his voice full of awe, James said, “That was really brave.” When I shook my head, he put both of his hands on the sides of my head to stop me. “Look at me, Frannie. That. Was. Brave. I see you now and I can’t imagine you that way. I’ve never met anyone so sure of themselves, so comfortable in their own skin. You did that, you pulled yourself out of the pit your mother dug for you.”

  “It took me a long time to become the together person you see before you today,” I tried to joke, but James didn’t laugh. “I was twenty-one when I finished school and let’s just say I more than made up for my lost teenage years. I really only got my shit together in the last few years. At twenty-three, you’re leaps and bounds ahead of me.”

  James sighed. “Frannie, I have money, but I’m still figuring shit out too.”

  I laughed. “Good, we can’t have you being too perfect.”

  James shook his head and smiled. “Perfect I am not.” Then he asked, “So what did your mom think about you quitting dance?”

  “Imagine the person who you’ve pinned all your hopes and dreams on suddenly decides she doesn’t want those hopes and dreams. My mom didn’t speak to me for a solid year. I had to ask my brother for money because she wouldn’t let my dad speak to me either.”

  James wore his feelings all over his face and right now he looked stunned. “Wow,” was all he could say.

  I nodded. “Right? These people were my role models growing up. I don’t know how my brother ended up in a functional marriage. I guess he just did the exact opposite of what my parents did. He’s a fucking awesome dad, despite the shit I give him.”

  “Sounds like you both rose above the cards you were dealt.” James rubbed my arms with his hands.

  I shrugged. “We’ll see about me. I feel like I’m on the verge of fucking up all the time.”

  “Frannie…” he growled.

  “James.” I blinked at him.

  “Don’t talk about my girl like that.”

  “Sorry, old habits and all that.” Standing up from the table, I waved my arms in the air. “Enough of this sad story! Can I see your room?”

  James stood and wrapped me in his arms. With my face nestled on his shoulder and my body securely ensconced in his warmth, all the sadness that had come to the surface was pushed down deep below. I wanted to blurt out I love you, I swear it was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t. Some unseen force was stopping me, telling me it was foolish and there was no way he’d return my feelings.

  Truly, what did I know about love? For me love had always meant pain and control. I never wanted to be that way with James. He deserved so much more than that. He deserved everything.

  “Let’s go see your room,” I repeated.

  He breathed heavily against my hair and squeezed me one more time then pulled back. When he looked at me, his eyes were full of emotion, full of stories I wasn’t ready to read.

  Grabbing my hands, he said quietly, “Okay, Frannie.”

  He led me through a cozy living room and up a set of creaky stairs. His room was the first on the left. The afternoon sun was pouring in, making it bright and inviting. My smiled grew and grew as I took it all in.

  “James! This is a shrine.” I laughed with pure glee when I took it all in.

  It felt like I’d stepped back in time to James’ teenage years—which were actually not too far in the past, but I didn’t want to dwell on silly little details like that. The walls were plastered with band posters, from Panic! At the Disco to The White Stripes to Florence and the Machine. Teenage James had eclectic taste in music.

  James stepped into the room and took almost all the leftover space. “I only moved out three years ago,” he said.

  I pointed to the bed. “You slept on that three years ago?” My eyes scanned his tall, wide body then compared it to the twin-sized bed. “How?”

  He chuckled. “Do you need me to demonstrate?”

  “Do you really need to ask?” I gently pushed him toward the bed until he sat down.

  He looked up at me, smiling. “Only for you.”

  “I’m the only one who’d ask you to do this.”

  “That is most certainly true.” James slowly lay down on the creaky child-sized bed and it was clear he was way too long for it. But he adjusted himself on his side and bent his knees so he just barely fit on the mattress. “See? Perfect fit!”

  I snorted with laughter. “Oh my god, you poor thing! That looks painful!”

  He turned over on his back with his hands behind his head and at least a foot of leg hanging over the end of the bed. “I bet we could find room for you on here with me.”

  Shaking my head, I backed away. “Oh no, no, no! That bed can barely contain you. If I got on it, it’d probably snap apart and then we’d have to explain that to your parents. And that would be a terrible first impression!”

  “Come on, Frannie,” he said with a pouty face. “I’ve never had a girl in this bed. Make my teenage dreams come true.”

  “Really? How is that possible? You had a girlfriend for seven years!”

  “She didn’t want to be ‘tempted.’ So we were hardly ever in my room.” He patted the sliver of bed next to him. “Come here!”

  I shook my head again and moved to the doorway. “Not gonna happen, buddy! Think of one of your other unfulfilled teenage fantasies and we’ll do that.”

  James got up from the bed and slowly walked to me. He raked his hands through the back of my hair and held me there. His eyes searched mine and then he leaned in and kissed me gently. Against my lips he murmured, “You are my teenage fantasy fulfilled.”

  I love you and I want to keep you forever. Don’t let me ruin this. Don’t let me be my mother and seek to contain this beautiful man.

  We went back to the kitchen and cleaned up our lunch. Then I looked around the checkerboard floors and had the sudden urge to dance.

  “I want to tell Ryan I danced in your kitchen!” I told James excitedly.

  He smiled and without saying a word he walked to the table and pushed it to the side of the room, then he picked up the chairs and moved them out of the way too. It really was a perfect dance floor for one.

  James watched me expectantly, so I did a little Chicken Dance, which made him laugh.

  “I need music, maestro! Got anything good on that phone of yours?” I asked.

  He ran his thumb over the screen. “I think I can find something. Fast or slow?”

  “Surprise me.”

  “You seemed to like this one last weekend,” he said when the familiar sounds of a harp started coming through hi
s phone’s speaker.

  “‘Cosmic Love’,” I said softly.

  Inhaling, I swung my leg around and pirouetted in the middle of the kitchen then contracted and expanded my ribs, with my arms above my head.

  James watched me with his arms crossed and a curve to his lips. I gestured for him to come to me and he did. I stood on his toes and wrapped my arms around his neck. We swayed together for the rest of the song, James holding me tightly against him.

  As the song came to an end, I put my lips to his ear and said, “This is the dance with you I want to remember. The other one was a blur, but I’ll never forget this one. Thank you for bringing me here and thank you for dancing with me.” I nuzzled against his beard and he stroked up and down my back.

  “I’ll give you a thousand dances if you want, Frannie. Anytime, I’ll be here to hold you and move with you.”

  Another song came on, and then another. We stayed in the center of that kitchen, holding tight to each other and swaying slowly until our feet were tired and James’ phone seemed to run out of music.

  James was not a teenage fantasy of mine. Freedom, happiness, autonomy had all been what I fantasized about. And now I had those things plus my sweet James and I didn’t know how I could possibly keep it all. But I was going to try because I knew there would never be anything better than slow dancing to love songs on a checkerboard floor with James.

  Twenty-Three

  With a bottle of wine between my knees, I smiled over at James as he drove. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He was nervous, and I happened to think it was really cute.

  We’d been together for a month now and we were making our first official debut as a couple at Rachel and Joe’s Friendsgiving. It was the Saturday before Thanksgiving and they were preparing a feast for their friends. Rachel actually really wanted to show off her kitchen, so she had ulterior motives on top of her heartfelt intentions.

  I reached over and rubbed James’ tense hand. “Relax, everyone is really nice and friendly. And you’re amazing, so they’ll all love you.” I didn’t add like I do, but I thought it, oh, I thought it.

  Laurel poked her head between us from the back seat. “What are you worried about, James?”

  “I’m not worried,” he grumbled.

  Ryan poked his head on top of Laurel’s. “I should be the one who’s nervous. I don’t even know these people!”

  I looked back at him and laughed. “You know Rachel, silly!” We’d both been going to Barre every week together and we’d had coffee with Ryan twice afterward. When Rachel told him about her love of ’90s dance moves, she had a fan for life. When Ryan busted out some Running Man, the love affair became mutual.

  “I know, but won’t Joe be jealous of how much Rachel loves me? I don’t want them fighting over me,” Ryan said.

  I pushed his forehead with one finger. “Sorry to tell you, Rachel won’t even see you when Joe’s in the room.”

  “They are obscenely adorable,” Laurel told Ryan. She pointed a finger between James and me. “Although you two give them a run for their money.”

  I sighed dreamily, because we were fucking ridiculously adorable—mostly because of James. He was proving again and again what a wonderful man he was. We made love, we slow danced, and we talked. We were together almost every night, unless he had to go out of town for work. But every time I knocked on his door or he knocked on mine, he looked at me like I was the best thing he’d ever seen.

  I smiled at Ryan reassuringly. “You have pie. No one can dislike someone who brings them pie.”

  He nodded seriously. “That’s true. Pie is a universal friendship starter.”

  Laughter sputtered out of me. “I was not aware of that!”

  When we pulled up to Joe and Rachel’s house, she was standing on the front porch jumping up and down.

  I turned to James. “See? Rachel’s excited you’re here.”

  He smiled stiffly, then opened his door and came around my side to help me out. I accepted his hand and hopped out in front of him. I tugged his beard and planted a big kiss on his lips. “You’ll be fine. I’ll hide you if they’re mean.”

  James laughed at the idea of me hiding him. Thankfully, his mood lightened, and he intertwined our fingers and we walked to the front porch together.

  “Hi, everyone,” Rachel sang out. She was standing by the front door with her hands behind her back. I kissed her cheeks in greeting, but she didn’t move to let me in. Instead, she just stood there smiling and giggling softly.

  Joe opened the door behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Did you tell them?” he asked.

  “Tell us what?” I asked.

  Rachel jumped up and down again and held out her left hand. On her ring finger was a silver band with an oval aquamarine stone surrounded by small diamonds. I looked at her face and she nodded.

  “Holy shit!” I exclaimed, then covered my mouth.

  “I know, right? Holy shit, we’re engaged!” Rachel said through her giggles.

  I turned to James. “They’re engaged!”

  He smiled. “I see that.”

  Then there were kisses and handshakes and hugs all around. As our round of congratulations ended, Eliza and Edward drove up and they started all over again, although Edward hung back with an ugly scowl on his face.

  Since Eliza and I went for her tattoo, she’d gotten quiet about the status of her relationship with Edward. She said he ‘wasn’t pleased’ with her tattoo, but she hadn’t wanted to talk any further. But last week she’d asked me to go with her again to start the shading and color. So, I sat with her, holding her hand as she stared at the ceiling with a smile on her lips and tears dripping down her cheeks. She was getting something she needed out of the tattooing ritual and I decided to support her without question.

  I didn’t get another tattoo that time. I was happy with my little pair of scissors on the back of my neck.

  Just as we were about to go inside, an unfamiliar man walked up the driveway.

  Joe held up a hand. “Hey, Charlie!”

  Charlie’s eyes widened and he stutter-stepped when he saw our group standing on the front porch. “Uh, hey…everyone.”

  “Come inside, we’ll make introductions like civilized people,” Rachel commanded.

  We filed inside, and introductions went around. Charlie was Rachel and Joe’s new neighbor. He was also really, really attractive, in a bad boy way, and if this were a couple months ago I would have been all over him. But it was kind of nice to get to know a man as a human being and not a potential sexual partner.

  Eliza, Edward, Charlie, James, and I had gathered in the living room while Rachel, Joe, Laurel, and Ryan were sorting things out in the kitchen. I’d told Rachel I’d loan Chef Laurel out to her for the day if she needed her.

  “So, what do you do, Charlie?” asked Edward. He’d barely said a word since he arrived,

  but of course, his first question would have to be how Charlie made a living. He’d asked James the same thing, and when he answered bartender, Edward basically turned his back on him. It was so ridiculous it would have been funny if poor Eliza weren’t so embarrassed.

  “I’m an artist,” Charlie answered.

  “Oh, really? Would I have seen your work anywhere?” Edward asked. Already I could tell he was losing interest.

  Charlie looked Edward up and down, from his shiny brown loafers to his neatly combed and parted hair and chuckled. “Doubt it.”

  Ooooh, I liked Charlie.

  “Hey, Charlie, how do you like living in Tiber City?” I asked.

  Edward wandered away from our group, no longer pretending to be engaged in the conversation.

  He shrugged. “It’s good. The house I’m renting has decent light.” Charlie scratched his head and grimaced in the direction Edward had gone. “What’s up with that guy? He seems like a dick.”

  Eliza made a strangled sound and quickly fled the room.

  “Oh fuck, that g
uy’s not with her, is he?” Charlie asked.

  “Unfortunately, he is,” I said then added, “And he’s always like that, so don’t take it personally.”

  James nodded. “When I said I was a bartender, his eyes glazed over.”

  Charlie pointed between Joe and me. “You two I see together. Those two? Doesn’t fit.”

  James met my eyes. “Preaching to the choir, man.”

  The three of us talked a little more about Charlie’s new house and his art, and I told him about Salon 410 and invited him in for a haircut whenever he needed it.

  “And Eliza cuts hair?” he asked. He looked rather interested in my sweet friend.

  “Foooood’s ready!” Rachel called from the dining room.

  Friendsgiving was served buffet style, so once we’d loaded our plates in the kitchen and took our seats in the dining room. I was basically salivating over the deliciousness in front of me, including Joe’s famous mashed potatoes.

  “Friends, before we eat, let’s go around and say what we’re thankful for. I’ll go!” Rachel looked around the table and smiled when her gaze landed on Joe. “I’m thankful for emails and second chances.”

  Joe squeezed her hand. “I think I’m thankful for the exact same things. And that my sweet girl said yes.”

  After we had all properly ‘awwwed,’ Ryan said, “I’ll go! I’m thankful for my dance studio and getting to be inspired by all the young dancers coming through the ranks.”

  Laurel went next. “I’m thankful for good friends and thick walls.” She held up her wine glass toward James and me.

  Eliza said, “I’m thankful for my salon and all my beautiful friends.”

  Everyone stared at Edward, who was shoveling turkey into his mouth. Eliza nudged him and without glancing up he muttered, “Thankful for a strong stock market.”

  She laughed nervously at his answer, then bowed her head to study her hands.

  Charlie spoke up next. “I’m thankful I’m not a total dick. And for new friends and art and all that.”

  And then it was my turn. I looked around at my table full of friends—minus Edward—and my chest ached. When I was alone and afraid at nineteen, I never could have pictured this as my life ten years later.