by Jenn LeBlanc
I feel like I’m going to vibrate right out of my skin if he doesn’t say something. Anything.
“Is that why you left?”
I nod, because it seems like my chest is only prepared to make unholy noises should I try to open my mouth, but then I realize he can’t see me nod. I stand on legs as shaky as they were that day and try not to fall as I walk to him.
Shoulder to shoulder, I nod again, and his face dips as his chin tilts toward mine just the smallest amount—but he doesn’t look at me.
We stand together, the sky changing for us, the dance of color warming my skin at the same time a small breeze kicks up and cools me. The curtains around us billow, catching the fire from the sky. Slowly it all fades and we’re left staring out into the purple twilight.
I feel like I’ve fallen asleep, just standing there and not moving, not talking, not doing anything beyond surviving. Then his hand skims down my back, his fingers resting at the base of my spine. Then he pushes just a little, turning me toward him until we’re nose to nose.
“Tell me her name again.”
“Isabeau Maire-Louise,” I say and I choke on her name, like I always do. It’s just so very hard to say it, so I clear my throat and try again. “Isabeau Marie-Louise.”
“Isabeau Marie-Louise,” he says and smiles, but it’s gone so quickly it’s more like a flash of some sort of recognition than anything tangible, but somehow it’s comforting in its brevity. “It’s a beautiful name. When is her birthday?”
“October,” I say, and he nods.
“And…” His face crumples up a little and his voice fades as though he can’t continue, but I know exactly what he’s asking.
“The same day.”
I watch his chest hitch, then his hands are on mine and he pulls me close and holds me, and I finally fall apart against his chest. Heavy, wet sobs coming from somewhere so deep I’d thought them gone forever.
Perhaps I was just waiting for this moment. To share it with someone who actually cared. My parents were never sympathetic when it came to my daughter. They considered her a mistake that dealt with itself, and that was that. Nothing more.
His arms tighten on me, crushing me against his chest, and I realize he too is crying, albeit quietly. Reservedly. The twilight passes, and the full dark of night blooms with the lights of the city around us, and the room chills as the silence comes.
He relaxes but he doesn’t release me completely, just moves away from me enough to bring his hands up my arms and hold my neck, smooth his fingers into my hair, down my shoulders and back up to my cheeks. “I think we should talk about this in a couple of days or…just maybe later. I need to think about it. I need to—I don’t actually know what I need to do, because this isn’t something…” He pauses, and I refrain from filling the silence. I want him to say whatever it is he needs to say. “This is why? Your parents found out?”
“Yes,” I manage.
“I considered a lot of different things when you left. This was never one of them. This isn’t something I’d ever have… I need a little time.”
“I should go. I have a set tonight and I need to get ready for it. I didn’t actually intend to tell you,” I say, and his brows crinkle. “No, I mean, I always intended to tell you…just not tonight, and I didn’t mean to blurt it out quite like I did. I didn’t mean to tell you like this at all. To tell you then leave. It just…it just happened. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, I—well, I’m assuming there isn’t really a good time to say something like this. Ever.”
“If I leave…will you be okay?”
“Oh, yeah, Tristan is right next door. I’m going to text him and…it’s okay if I tell people? I don’t want to—”
“Daniel, she was yours too, and I won’t keep you from speaking about her however you wish to.”
His hand skims across my cheek again, and I realize I’ve started crying again. Which…pretty much happens whenever I talk about her.
“Can I walk you to his flat? I don’t want to leave you alone here. It may sound ridiculous, but I honestly just…this was a lot and not done well. Please let me walk you to Tristan's.”
He nods and takes my hand, then looks around the room as though he’s forgetting things. Every move he makes seems to require extra thought. I remember exactly how that feels. Leaving the hospital without my child was one of the most intense feelings I’ve ever endured. Like I forgot something.
I kept checking for my wallet, my keys, my bag…I had everything. I checked several times, but I kept checking because that feeling just wouldn’t abate.
Finally he shrugs and pulls me toward the door. I wrap my arms around one of his, and he turns to me with a smile that looks a little haunted now as we walk out of his flat.
Ten
Daniel
“You have—”
“Had.”
“Had…you had a daughter?” Tristan says quietly, and I nod. “Jesus, I can’t even imagine losing—”
“Don’t…don’t even try. Just don’t.” I look over at him and know he’s already thought about losing Soso, and I have the sudden realization that coming here was a mistake. I wasn’t even thinking about this. This was such a huge mistake. I turn toward him on the sofa and grab his arms, pulling him toward me until he can’t help but look straight into my eyes. “Tris, stop. This is sad, this is beyond sad, but don’t let it get you. Don’t go there. Not now—you’ve been doing so well. I shouldn’t have come here. I wasn’t thinking. She just refused to leave me alone, and I thought… You’re literally right here. Let’s call Xan. Let’s go out.”
“I think maybe we should,” Tristan says and his voice is halfway to that deep, drawling pain that took forever to get rid of.
“Okay, come on, we’ll get some food and wait down there. I’ve got a car on the way.” I pull him up from the sofa and push him out the door. “How long are the in-laws here?”
“Another week before they head back to New York and Soso goes with them. I’ll go get her when the show strikes.”
“Maybe next week we go see my family, hang out for the day? BBQ with the girls?”
“Yeah, okay, good.”
“How did the opening go?”
“It was good,” he says, and a little car pulls up and we get in. I text Xan.
* * *
Guisado’s code pink } D
* * *
X } WTF? It’s been awhile
* * *
I triggered } D
long story } D
just get there now } D
* * *
X } omw 10
* * *
“Xan coming?” Tris asks.
“Yeah, he’ll meet us there.”
“He bringing James?”
“I don’t think so. Pretty sure she has a shoot to prep.”
He nods, and the car falls silent as the driver weaves through the streets toward WeHo. When we get to Santa Monica and Robertson, he pulls around the corner and we climb out. The street is already buzzing, typical Friday night. Camillia said she’s spinning tonight and for a Friday…they must have been really impressed with her to give her booth time, even if it is before ten p.m.. Maybe I’ll stop by later. As long as Tris is okay.
I point to a table on the patio and Tris sits down, and I go to the register to order a few samplers and some Stumptown horchatas before I join him.
Meli
It’s my first night really spinning and I’m trying my best to let the music speak and get out of my head, but I’m completely distracted by what happened with Daniel. It wasn’t done well. I wasn’t sure how I was going to tell him; I always knew I’d need to, and perhaps that’s one of the reasons it took me so long to come to him. But the actual mechanics of it…they always escaped me. I wasn’t expecting to say anything tonight until the words actually came out and then…well, it was much too late to take anything back.
I drop a new beat, bleeding it in gently before pulling out the newest Bruno Mars and getting peo
ple moving all around the bar. One of the go-go dancers on the stage gives me a massive grin and starts moving, and finally my mind is with his movement and the music and I want to spin for him because he moves beautifully and I want to give him a soundtrack that will highlight his talent.
I spin for an hour before the house DJ comes to take over. I check my phone, hoping to have heard from Daniel. I take a seat at the bar and order a water as I scroll through the notifications, looking for him. Apparently I was tagged on Instagram, because my notifications are flooded.
I find a text from Daniel and let out a heavy breath.
* * *
D } We’re in WeHo if you’re around text me
* * *
Yeah, just finished my set, but I have another in an hour } C
I can meet you } C
D } We’ll come there
I’ll grab a table, how many? } C
D } 3
Total? } C
D } 4 total
Perfect } C
* * *
I grab a table by one of the torch heaters and settle in. I open Instagram to find someone I don’t know posted a pic of me spinning and tagged me. I have a massive smile on my face, the lights hitting me perfectly. I’ll need to contact them for the rights to use it, because it really is a great image and if I keep this side gig up I’ll need some good promo images.
“Hey,” Daniel says, and I lean back into his arm as it skims along my shoulders. I’m glad to have him here.
“Hey,” I say and stand to give him a hug. He’s smiling and looks slightly less haunted, but we’re in WeHo on a Friday night so it’s hard to gauge any emotions right now. I turn and give Tris a hug, too. At least Daniel seems to have relaxed on the crazy possessive he had when we first met. We sit at the hi-top and Daniel slides his chair closer to me, his hand on my thigh, and it’s so sweet and lovely I know I’m blushing. I’m not sure why I feel like this suddenly. Maybe it’s that we’re in public, with his friends.
Another man sits down, and I instantly recognize him even with the hat pulled down over his crown and the dark sunglasses. “Hey Xan,” I say and he nods, taking my hand and squeezing.
It’s early enough that they’re still bussing the patio, so we order some drinks and settle in a bit, Daniel pulling my chair toward his so I can lean into him. I listen to the guys talk and it’s the most comforting buzz around me. This life is going to be so incredibly different from what I’m used to. If I stay. I still have to try out for the symphony in a couple of weeks, and then we’ll see. I’m not sure what I’ll do if I’m not accepted—my work visa is dependent on that job. I could find another but it took forever just to get this one approved and now it’s so much more difficult, I just don’t know.
I shake my head because I don’t need to think about this right now. I need to think about…something. I don’t know. I have so many concerns. The foremost of which is just how easy this feels to me. Just how simple it was to walk back into his life and be accepted. Welcomed. It feels like coming home, so natural. At the same time, I feel uneasy because there’s been so much that’s happened while we were apart, our daughter being only one piece of the story. I have no idea what he’s been up to…yeah. There’s a lot to get through. Right now though all I want is to hold on to him and feel things I haven’t felt in so many years.
Love. Confidence. Surety. Compassion. His hand runs up and down my arm, and I feel his lips against my temple as he kisses me and I look up only to be kissed properly before he says what it was he needed, but I’m so distracted by the kiss that I don’t even really hear him. So I put a little distance between us and smile. “What was that?” I ask.
“You said you had another set?”
I look over to the DJ booth and check my watch. “Yeah, in about fifteen minutes. You hanging around for this?”
“Will it make you nervous?”
“Has it ever?”
“Never,” he says, and I know I want him to stay. I want to see him here in the crowd with me. Smiling up at me. I kiss him again and stand to go get my groove on, stepping up to the booth and joining the DJ until he nods his track and hands off to me.
For a while I spin without looking to where I know he is. I just can’t seem to bring myself to do it, but when I do, they aren’t there anymore. I look around the club to find Tristan talking to the dancer I was playing to earlier, Xan and James leaning against the bar behind him like weird sentinels.
I drop the music I know will get Daniel to turn to me, and it does. His gaze lifts to mine across the bar. His grin is so wide I can see his beautiful smile through all the haze and flashing lights. He starts moving toward me, and I wait. My eyes are on him until he’s standing beneath the booth looking up to me, and then I spin a list for him and him alone. It’s a specific set of 80s music that was popular on the pop station we used to listen to when we were in New York. He sways there in front of me with the bottle to his lips, not drinking until Xan comes up behind him and says something in his ear.
He turns, and they look at Tristan, still talking to the go-go dancer. Then he looks back at me shakes his head and points. “I’ve got to do something,” he says over my music, so I nod, because what else can I do? I see my phone buzz and look down.
* * *
D } I’ll call you tomorrow
* * *
I give him a smile and nod, and he and Xan head over to Tristan, pulling him away from the stage and out of the club as quickly and easily as they can, which is to say—not very. The disruption only lasts as long as it takes for them to split the crowd and push to the door, and then it’s like it never happened.
I’m left wondering, but I’m also left with the feeling that whatever happens next with Daniel—it’s going to be amazing.
Eleven
Daniel
We walk up to Tristan just in time to hear him say, “Don’t you look like a bad idea…” and I pat him on the shoulder, making him turn to me.
“Hey, don’t harass the dancers, man. They’re working.”
“Working their assets,” he says. “He looks like a five-dollar shot of Jameson and a PBR.”
“Jesus, Tristan,” Xan says through a laugh. “You’re already wasted.”
“Well, just look at him, with his too-tight Andrew Christian whites, his old cowboy boots and his inappropriate truck stop snapback. What would you call him?”
“Actually, I call him Lucas. He’s a cool guy and he bought that shit at the vintage shop on Melrose,” I say.
“Yeah?” he asks with a sideways grin.
“Yeah, and he can hear you.”
“The way he looks, I’d think he’d need a translator.”
“He looks like this because he’s working,” I say.
“He looks like someone I want to mug me.”
“Tip him out for all the gawking and inappropriateness and let’s go,” Xan says.
Tristan pulls a couple of twenties out of his wallet, and Lucas hits one knee but I take his money at the last minute. “On second thought, I’ll tip him out, you start walking. Xan?” I say.
“Got it,” he says and takes Tris around the shoulders and steers him toward the door.
I fold the twenties and smile up at Luc.
“It won’t be the worst of the night,” he says.
“Yeah, but Tris fucking knows better, which makes it worse. Sorry he’s being such a dick.”
“Hey, no worries. I was actually going for three-dollar Coors and off-brand whiskey, so it was an upgrade.”
I laugh and shove the tip in his boot. “Have fun with that itch all night.”
“You fuck,” he says with a grin.
“Yep. See ya later.”
“Yeah.”
I wake up in Tristan’s bed, which is something I haven’t done in a very long time. Tris and I never had a thing. We’ve only ever been friends, but bringing him home and making sure he’s okay has been something we’ve all taken turns doing for years now. Ever since he lost Joanna. I�
��m hoping last night was a momentary setback. I mean, he’s bound to have setbacks, right? You don’t just give up the love you have for someone when they aren’t there anymore.
I never did. Just because someone isn’t right in front of you doesn’t mean you get over them, without some sort of end. Well, he had an end, but that’s definitely different. It was an end to life not an end to love. I look over at him, his head stuffed under the pillow, hiding from the light outside.
“Go home,” his muffled voice says.
I laugh, “How ya doing?”
“I’m okay, you know. Hungover, somewhere I never wanted to be again, and now I remember why. I’m going to sleep it off. You go find your girl and figure out…whatever.”
“You know the rules,” I say. “I have the keys. I’ll be back and you’d better be here.”
“I will be. I need to get cleaned up. Soso will be here later and I’m not fucking up my last few days with her.”
“Alright, I’m going to go. And I trust you, but the rules stand. Don’t get salty with me.”
“I’m not, Daniel, thank you.”
“You bet.” I roll out of his bed and head for my own, realizing it isn’t even seven o’clock yet. I have about eight hours of practice ahead of me today, but all I can think of is how soon I can get to Cam. I jump in the shower because I smell like WeHo street, and I’m old enough to have standards. Then I send Meli a text and crawl in bed.
I want to see you } D
