Reasonable Doubt (1-3)

by Whitney Gracia Williams

  “Thank you ladies and gentlemen for attending our opening night,” one of the directors said as she took the stage. “Per our opening night tradition, we will now introduce the members of our corps to you…”

  I tried to focus on the introductions, tried to focus on someone else other than Andrew, but as I was lifting my head up from another bow, I saw him.

  He was there in the front row, in the last seat on the left. He was looking at me and smiling, mouthing, “Congratulations.”

  “And last but not least, our leading lady of the night and a new principle dancer here at NYCB—Aubrey Everhart!” The director said into the mic, and the audience cheered loudly.

  “Miss Everhart?” She nudged me, whispering, “Miss Everhart, you need to take your final bow and leave the stage…”

  I didn’t move. I continued staring at Andrew.

  “Miss Everhart?” She whispered, more harshly now. “Take a bow and get backstage…Now…”

  I walked away from her and headed straight toward Andrew—taking my time down the stage’s side steps. I stood in front of him, looking directly into his eyes—ignoring the confused murmurs of the crowd.

  The director said a few more words, Mr. Ashcroft gave his regards, and the curtains closed without me.

  As the audience gave one final applause and started to file out of the room, I finally found my voice.

  “I thought you said you weren’t coming…” I whispered. “Did you come here just to see my show or are you staying a little bit longer?”

  “I’m staying a little bit longer.”

  “Does that mean permanently?”

  “No.” He wiped away my tears. “It means I’ll stay here until you realize how terrible this city is—until you’re ready to leave.”

  “I signed a contract for three years.”

  “Every contract is negotiable.” He smiled and pulled me into his arms. “And if you don’t apologize for ruining the closing credits tonight, they just might risk breaching it and fire you…”

  “Where will you work?” I asked. “Are you going to practice law? Can you practice law?”

  He kissed my lips. “I’ll be teaching at NYU.”

  “What?” My heart immediately felt for the future students. “Why?”

  “What do you mean, why?”

  “You’re a terrible teacher, Andrew…All of the interns at GBH hated you.”

  “I don’t give a fuck.”

  “I’m serious…” I was actually worried. “I think you should reconsider. Teaching isn’t for everyone, so—”

  “First of all,” he said, cutting me off and tightening his grip around me. “I am a good fucking teacher. It just depends on the subject matter…” He trailed his finger across my lips. “I can recall teaching you how to do something very well…”

  I blushed.

  “Second of all, last time I checked, all of the interns at GBH were quite unteachable and they were dumb as stones—all except one.”

  “The one that was a fucking liar?”

  “Yes,” he said. “That one.”

  “I heard she broke all your rules.” I brought my hand up to his face. “I heard she ended your one dinner, one night, and no repeats streak… ”

  “I’m pretty sure that she didn’t.”

  “Is that so?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Is it still going on? Is that still your personal motto?”

  “To a certain extent,” he said, pressing his lips against mine. “Since I still like the sound of it, and will only be dating her from here on out, I’ll just replace the word ‘one’ with ‘more’…”

  Epilogue

  Six Years later…

  New York, New York

  Andrew

  I stood in front of a classroom at New York University—counting down the seconds, asking myself why I’d ever agreed to this.

  “Are there any questions?” I looked at my watch.

  Several hands flew into the air.

  “I’m only answering three of them.” I pointed to a young woman in the front row. “Yes, you. What is it?”

  “Um…” She blushed. “Good morning, Professor Hamilton. My name is—”

  “I don’t care what your name is. What is your question?”

  “Um, it’s been about two weeks since the semester started and you have yet to give us a syllabus…”

  I ignored her and pointed to a jock in the back row. “Yes?”

  “You also haven’t told us what books we need to buy…”

  “Does anyone in this classroom know the definition of the word, question?” I picked the last student, a redhead sitting by the window. “Yes?”

  “Is it true that we’re required to take turns bringing you coffee every day?”

  I looked at the coffee mug on my desk, at the sign-in sheet that listed which student had brought it today.

  “It’s not a requirement,” I said, picking up the cup. “But if you miss your day to bring me my coffee, I’ll make sure everyone in this class regrets it.”

  They groaned collectively and shook their heads. A few of them still had their hands raised, but I was officially done for the day.

  “Read pages 153 - 260 from the printout by next class. I expect you to know the ins and outs of each case. Class dismissed.” I walked out, saying nothing further.

  Slipping into my car, I noticed a new email on my phone.

  Subject: Bathroom.

  Thank you for sending me that very inappropriate note with my flowers today. Everyone in my cohort now knows that you and I have yet to fuck in our brand new bathroom.

  Why are you so ridiculous?

  —Aubrey.

  Subject: Re: Bathroom.

  You’re very welcome for the flowers. I’m hoping that you liked them.

  And that wasn’t a “note” that I sent you. It’s a demand that’s about to be addressed within the next few hours.

  Why do you deny that you love it?

  —Andrew.

  I could picture her rolling her eyes at my last message, so I revved up my car and sped back toward our home.

  >Even though I’d spent the last six years here, I was still building my tolerance for the things I once hated, things that now bothered me less and less, but I still had a long way to go.

  Some memories can never be replaced…

  Aubrey was completely captivated and entranced by this city, though. Whenever she wasn’t incessantly touring with the ballet company, she was insisting that we try every restaurant, theater, and tourist attraction possible—trying to make me fall in love with everything again.

  I parked in front of our brownstone—a newly purchased brick building in Brooklyn, and walked up the steps.

  “Aubrey?” I said as I opened the door. “Are you in here?”

  “Yes.” She called from a distance. “And I’m not in the bathroom.”

  “You will be eventually.” I walked down the hallway, stopping when I saw her hanging another frame in her office.

  The walls were covered in pictures of her standing at center stage, a different picture for every night she’d opened a show.

  “Do I need to have another room built for you and your photos?” I asked. “You’re running out of space.”

  “No, I think this is the last one.”

  “Are you still retiring at the end of the month?” I stepped behind her and kissed her neck. “Or have you changed your mind yet?”

  “I’m not changing my mind.” She turned around to face me. “I think it’s time for me to focus on something new.”

  “Becoming the female version of Mr. Ashcroft when you teach?”

  “I won’t be that bad,” she said. “But I do need a break like you said, I think…”

  I nodded. I’d been extremely supportive throughout her professional career—traveling with her out of the country to see some of the shows, hiring a personal massage therapist who was at her beck and call, and documenting all of her achievements from the newspapers.

 
; But I’d recently noted a change—a shift, in her attitude: Although she was happy when she went to rehearsals, even happier when telling me about new things the company was trying, she seemed to be more interested in a life outside of the company, so I suggested that she take a short break.

  I was still trying to figure out how she’d interpreted my suggested “break” as a “retirement.”

  “I loved dancing in Russia.” She smiled, pointing to the picture. “Do you remember that?”

  “I do remember that...” I said, continuing my assault of her neck, slipping my hand under her shirt.

  She murmured as I rubbed my thumb around her nipple, as I gently bit her skin. But then she stepped away. “I actually need you to go fax my revised contract to the company…I have to let them know officially by five o’clock.”

  “After the bathroom.” I clasped her hand. “We have four hours.”

  She rolled her eyes, but she gave in, taking my lead into the bathroom.

  I turned on the water and pulled her dress over her head. “If you’re hell bent on retiring from performing and simply teaching, we’ll have more time to spend together.”

  “More time for you to convince me to leave New York?”

  “We really don’t have a reason to stay,” I said, threading my fingers through her hair. “If you’re going to teach, you can commute.”

  “And if I don’t teach? If I decide to continue dancing instead?”

  “I’ll buy season tickets.” I cupped her face in my hands, raising my eyebrow. “I never asked you to retire, Aubrey…I just think you need a break. You haven’t taken a week off in more than six years…”

  “I am going to take a break…”

  “Is it going to last longer than two days?”

  “A lot longer…”

  “Two weeks?”

  “It’ll be at least nine months…”

  “What?” I backed up, shocked. We’d stopped using protection once we moved in together, but she’d still taken birth control. "What are you saying, Aubrey?"

  "I’m saying you’re going to be a father," she said, nearly whispering. “And I think that’s a good enough reason for us to stay…”

  I was silent for several seconds, pressing my palm against her flat stomach.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. “Is this not something that you wanted? I wanted to tell you this morning, but you were in a rush, so—”

  I cut her off with a deep kiss and pulled her close, rubbing my hands against her bare back. “I’m more than okay…” I looked into her eyes. “It is something I wanted…”

  She murmured, “I love you,” against my lips and I said it back.

  Breathless, she leaned against the shower door. “Can you go fax my letter now? It would really be nice if, for once, I wasn’t late doing something because you have no self-control and were too busy fucking me.”

  “I’ll definitely fax your letter…” I drew her lip into my mouth and squeezed her ass. “After the bathroom.”

  She tried to dash away one last time, but I pinned her to the wall and kissed her until her body went limp.

  Pulling away as she gasped for air, I lifted her leg around my waist—sliding my cock inside of her inch by inch.

  Her arms went around my neck as she tilted her hips up, as I gripped her sides and pulled her into me.

  “When we get back from dinner…” I whispered and skimmed a hand down her stomach and to her clit, swirling my thumb around it. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore…”

  She groaned and dragged her nails across my skin. “Ahhh…”

  “Now that you’re quitting, I’m going to be inside of you every day…”

  “Andrew…”

  I felt her body tensing and lifted her other leg around my waist—pressing her back further into the tile. “Every day…”

  Her pussy clutched my cock tighter and throbbed against me, so I held her taut and watched as she reached her climax— as she completely let go.

  Biting her bottom lip, I held her close to me as another orgasm made its way through her body. “Stop fighting it…”

  “I’m….I’m not…”

  “Aubrey…” I looked into her eyes as I came seconds after her, and the two of us remained entwined for several seconds as the shower’s water poured over us.

  “I hate you sometimes…” she whispered, motioning for me to let go of her legs.

  “I love you, too.” I gently set her down.

  I grabbed a loofah, and slowly ran it over her body—pausing when I reached her stomach. “Did you go to the doctor yet?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I just took a test…I’m going there tomorrow.”

  “We’re going there tomorrow.”

  She looked as if she was going to say something else, but she simply moaned as I pressed the loofah against her thighs.

  “Here,” she said, grabbing a different loofah when I was finished. “Let me—”

  “No.” I gripped her wrist and pointed to the shower bench. “You can sit.”

  “What?”

  “Go sit down.”

  “Seriously?” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re not going to let me return the favor because I’m pregnant? Is that what this is?”

  “Yes.” I washed my chest. “That’s exactly what this is.”

  She sighed. “Andrew…”

  “I can’t lose another one.” I looked into her eyes. “I don’t want you doing anything at all.”

  Nodding slowly, she stepped back and sat on the bench, keeping her gaze locked on mine.

  When I was finished, I turned off the water and wrapped her in a towel. Clasping her hand, I led her into our bedroom.

  “Do I need to put a cover sheet over your letter?” I asked.

  “No, but if you’re in an accommodating mood, I would prefer if we skipped your faculty dinner tonight.”

  “That’s not happening.” I rolled my eyes and grabbed her sheet off the headboard. “You have plenty of time to get ready for it. I’ll be back.”

  Ignoring her deep sighs, I left the room and headed into my home office. It, too, was covered in frames of her ballet shows. And, much to my annoyance, she’d placed a picture of us kissing right above my desk—a picture that always found its way there no matter how many times I placed my framed law degree there.

  I turned on the fax machine and pulled out the tray, stopping once I actually read her letter:

  Dear Mr. Ashcroft, staff of NYCB, and current cohort,

  I am writing this letter to officially resign as a principle dancer from the company. As we discussed previously, I would like to take on a more instructive role for at least two years, in which I will be pursuing some personal dreams of mine. I have full intent on returning to the stage once the time is right, but at this current moment, I need to do what is best for me and my future family.

  —Aubrey Everhart

  Aubrey

  I adjusted my seatbelt and looked over at Andrew. “How long are you planning to stay at this event tonight?”

  “Until it’s over.”

  I rolled my eyes, thinking about the last dull faculty dinner we’d attended. Half of the awardees were sleep an hour into the ceremony.

  “Are you nominated for an award or something?” I asked.

  “What makes you think someone would ever nominate me for an award?”

  “Seeing as though you somehow managed to win ‘Professor of the Year’ three times in a row, I’m pretty sure it’s not impossible.”

  “No.” He smiled. “The Professor of the Year banquet is next week.”

  “And tonight is?”

  “Does it matter?” He placed his hand on my exposed thigh, rubbing it gently. “I want you to be here. When do you plan on telling your parents that you’re pregnant?”

  “Tomorrow…Are you going to tell anyone?”

  He was silent for a few minutes. “Jessica.”

  “Jessica?” I l
aughed. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” he said. “She’s a good friend.”

  I couldn’t deny that. Even though she once had an unrelenting crush on him, she’d been nothing but supportive of us since we moved to New York. She called once a month to say hello, but to also ask him for dating advice. She even asked me sometimes.

  Pulling the car into a parking garage, he looked over at me. “You stopped taking birth control months ago, didn’t you?”

  I nodded.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ve talked about wanting to have a child more than you’ll ever admit…”

  “I told you I wanted you to have a career, to achieve everything you wanted first.”

  “I have,” I said as he put the car in park.

  He cupped my face in his hands and stared at me, looking deep into my eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but there was a sudden knock on the window.

  The valet.

  He sighed and leaned back, letting a man in a white tuxedo take the keys as another man helped me out of the car.

  “Enjoy your night,” the two of them said in unison.

  Andrew pulled me close and we strolled along a walkway that was adorned with bright lights. As we approached the glass entrance of the restaurant, a host nodded at us.

  “Good evening, Mr. Hamilton,” he said as he opened the doors. “Miss Everhart.”

  “Good evening,” I said, wondering how he knew my name.

  I felt Andrew kissing my hair as we stepped into a dimly lit room where patrons were sitting around white clothed tables.

  He led me over to a spot by the windows and pulled out my chair.

  I looked around the room, noticing that the usual signs for an over-the-top faculty meet and greet were nowhere to be found. None of the faces looked familiar, and there was no special mention of anything NYU related on the restaurant’s menu.

  As I turned to face Andrew again, to ask him what was going on, I noticed he’d placed a small black box at the center of the table.

  “I was going to wait until after dinner…” He grabbed both of my hands and my heart stopped. “But…”

  Everything around me blurred and I took several deep breaths. “But what?”