Dancing Hours

by Jennifer Browning

  I sat carefully on the bed and looked at him. I thought for a few minutes about whether I should wake him. I decided to lay down with him instead. I was asleep in no time. It was dark when I woke up. The window was still open and I could see the glow of the city outside in the sky. David had wrapped himself up behind me, his arm around my waist. I could feel his breath on my neck and it tickled. I could have laid there forever if not for the fact that I had to go to the bathroom.

  I tried to gently disentangle myself, but he was awake. I promised to come back in a moment and I did. I wasn’t sure if he had been cuddling with me on purpose or if he’d woken up while I was trying to get out of bed. He was waiting for me in the living room and reached out to take my hand. “I’m starving. Let’s hope we can find some food.” He said.

  My stomach was empty too. Lucky for us, restaurants were still open. He called Jessica to wish her a good night, but she was already in bed. She’d waited up until 9, but finally exhaustion had taken her over.

  Having run through most topics of conversation in the last couple of days, it turned to serious matters pretty quickly. He wanted to know why I hadn’t come home, what I was hoping to accomplish out here.

  I told him truthfully that I’d dreamed my whole life of getting out of the small town life, but when I got to Los Angeles, I was really homesick. I missed being able to walk to the coffee shop and see some of my friends or seeing the fireworks display from so close up without having to share a giant field with thousands of people. But I didn’t want to be a failure. I’d been staring at the same postcard of the Eiffel Tower for ten years and when the opportunity to go presented itself, I had passed. I felt like I didn’t know who I was anymore and I felt ashamed.

  David wrapped his arm around me and kissed the top of my head. I felt it like a hot ember burning there. “The people who love you are always going to love you, whether you’ve been to Paris or not. You should take a good long look in the mirror sometime, you’re pretty damn lovable.”

  I laughed.

  “So, are you going to come home and visit soon?”

  “Yes, I will. I know I need to. Besides, Nan already got me a plane ticket home for the summer.”

  “Good. I knew I had a good reason to love her too.”

  I smiled, but he couldn’t see it. Everybody loved Nan, she was pretty hard not to love. But the fact that he loved my Nan made him even more attractive, if that was possible. Before I could think about it, I kissed him. He didn’t mind.

  We went back to my apartment and it was getting pretty late. My roommate left a message that she was extending her weekend away and not to worry about her. I had no intention of worrying about her anyway, but it felt like a sign to me. I asked David to stay with me. “Let’s not be friends tonight.” I said self-consciously, forcing myself to hold both his hands and look directly in his eyes.

  He looked back at me intently and seemed to be pondering my request, but I didn’t want to allow him the moment of indecision. I pulled him to my room and tried to push him onto the bed like I’d seen in movies, but he remained standing.

  “Let’s just think about this for a minute, Andy.” he pulled away a hand and held it up between us.

  I kissed him and he kissed me back, which lasted for a few minutes until he pulled away. “I told you that it can’t be just a one night thing with me.”

  “Are you telling me that you don’t want to?” I could tell that he did want to and I was pretty sure I could get him past the point of objecting, but a little part of me knew that he was right.

  “No, I really, really do. And I really, really want to be with you the next night and the night after that and every other night, but I have to go home to work and Jessica and my life there.”

  “You have been acting like a grown-up, like an old man, for years. You love me, right? You said that. And I love you too and I’ve had so much fun with you the last two days. This feels right, doesn’t it?” I kissed him. He stood there, thinking. I turned off the lights and kissed him again. This time he let me push him down onto the bed. It wasn’t long before he started to respond. He was tender, not aggressive, like he wanted to make it last forever.

  With the shades still open from the day, the glow of the city competed with the fainter glow of the moon to illuminate us for each other. I could see the rippled body I’d been aching to touch all day. There were no ripped clothes or broken bedposts, none of the things you read about in romance novels. It was beautiful and perfect.

  Before we knew it, the sun was coming up and it was time for David to go. He had an early flight to catch. He laid there kissing me, though, and I ran my hand along the length of his back. Our goodbye was prolonged and I doubted he even would have time for a shower at his hotel before it would be time to go. Nan called and that’s what finally prompted him to get out of bed. He dressed quietly while I chatted with her saying that I would miss her, that we hardly got to see each other and promising I would come home for the summer. David smiled agreeably and the young guy in love shone through. My heart was stabbed with the realization that he didn’t just love me, he was in love with me if there was such a thing as a difference.

  As if Nan could read my thoughts, she asked me to tell David that he needed to be back to the hotel in 30 minutes to catch the plane. I blushed and stammered and promised that I would tell him.

  “Did you two have a nice day together?” she inquired, innocently enough.

  “Yes, of course we did” I insisted “but I wish I’d gotten to see you again. What did you have to do that was more important than seeing your granddaughter?” I thought I might turn the tables on her inquiry.

  “Just some old friends to see and things to take care of… don’t worry. You’ll see me again soon because you’re coming home for the summer. And you can thank me later for having things to do yesterday when I’m dancing at your wedding.” I could hear her smiling on the other end of the line.

  “Nan!” I exclaimed, chiding her presumptiveness.

  We got off the phone shortly after that. I turned to David “She said she needs you back in 30 minutes.”

  He looked surprised “She knows that I’m here?”

  “Apparently. I shouldn’t be surprised. She knows everything.”

  He headed for the door, but before he walked out he took my hand and kissed me hard. He pulled back and said “Promise me this wasn’t just something you needed to get out of your system.”

  “I promise.” I said solemnly.

  “I’ll call you later.” Another kiss and he was gone.

  I meant what I’d said, everything. I loved David. I didn’t sleep with him to get it out of my system although it felt like it was a long time coming. After he left, I showered and slept for a long time. When I woke, I had to go to class and to work and to my life. He was back home and phone calls weren’t much of a relationship. I wouldn’t be able to go to movies with him or have dinner with him or real dates. I felt suddenly more alone than I had when I first showed up.

  David called three times that day and left messages for me. I didn’t return them. I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? Then he kept calling. At first the messages were hopeful and then confused. I imagined what it would be like if I got involved with him. I’d move back home and get a little house and raise a little family, all within a handful of square miles of where my parents lived. The idea that Holly might take custody of Jessica and he would be free to go wherever didn’t mean he would want to. We hadn’t even talked much about what he wanted, if he wanted a different life after he was no longer a full-time father.

  I wore the necklace he gave me every day and found myself playing with it mindlessly in class, trying to concentrate but completely unable to make sense of the droning lectures I was sitting through. Even as I danced in the small studio, my mind wouldn’t break free of him. I couldn’t daydream about Paris or Macchu Picchu. I wondered if we’d made a mistake. Had I been confused by the drama with X? How was it even possible that
after following me so fervently, Ed’s accountants had managed to convince him not to try to see me again? I realized quickly that I didn’t care as long as I never did see him again. Not being able to talk to David about it was so much harder than I thought it would be. I was confused. He felt like a package deal that would lead me back to Palmetto, a place that had felt like a prison for so long. But I loved him, like I loved so many people who might never go anywhere any more exotic than the State Capital.

  Finally, after a month of not speaking to him, he left a last message saying that he loved me. He understood that I was confused or maybe angry at him. If I needed some time to think about things, just call to let him know I was okay; but he would stop calling for a while.

  Another month went by before I got the terrible news from my mother. Nan was in the hospital, I needed to come home.

  2

  The hospital was cold, not like a refrigerator but it definitely contrasted with the weather outside. The ladies sitting behind the admitting desk were unhurried, studious. It, too, was a contrast to the urgency I felt at getting to Nan’s room.

  Behind me somewhere a woman with unnaturally red hair and a thick accent was talking about her daughter from New Jersey. It wasn’t pertinent to what I needed. With glazed and probably crazed eyes I approached and inquired about Nan’s room. One of the volunteers chatted with me while we walked at the speed of molasses in January through the hospital. She was elderly and friendly… and she had only one speed. At some point I offered for her to just point me in the right direction, but she clicked her tongue at the rudeness of leaving me to my own devices in the hospital. I would have to be patient, something I hadn’t had much problem with before.

  I’d never seen a room filled with so many machines. I didn’t know what they were all for – breathing, fluids, blood pressure. Some of them were pulled out from their hiding places behind placid pictures on the wall. The only honest machine in the room was a television. At least it had the decency to look like what it was.

  My mother was asleep in a lounge chair that folded almost flat. There was a window bench with a 2 inch pad on it that I guessed many people slept in. The room had that funny smell – antiseptic and something else. Putrefication came to mind. Nan looked as old as I’d ever seen her – worried and tired. The light blue hospital gown with asymmetrical triangles was something she’d never wear. I felt instantly and overwhelmingly sad. I sat down quietly, not knowing what to do with myself. Waiting is something I’ve never been good at. I like to get things done. But here I was – useless, here I could not do anything. Nan may be dying and I was like a feather, blowing in the wind. No anchor.

  I had nothing to do while they slept but stare at the disingenuous machines, wires everywhere, tubes in and out of my grandmother. And everything had wheels on it to roll around the room. An emergency call button stared at me mockingly. I could press it. This was an emergency, wasn’t it? Feeling lost and helpless felt like an emergency. But it would only bring a nurse who’d be angry I wasted her time or, worse yet, she might pity me. I hated pity, but I pitied myself.

  I left to find coffee at the courtesy station they had set up. No creamer, just my luck. When I returned, my mother was waking up. The side of her face was imprinted with pillow marks. Must have been a long night. I felt suddenly bad that I hadn’t brought her a change of clothes or some toiletries from home, but I hadn’t stopped there on my way from the airport.

  We talked quietly and my mother filled me in on the details. Most of them swirled around in my head nonsensically, but the gist was clear. Nan had breast cancer. It had metastasized to her lungs and lymph nodes by the time it was discovered. She didn’t want to scare me. She had decided not to try treatment. She was going to die.

  I excused myself to the restroom, which was equipped with a shower and another emergency call method – this one with a string to pull. I looked at my skin in the mirror looking too pale under the harsh fluorescent lights. I was upset at my grandmother for not fighting, for not trying, no matter how dire the odds; but this wasn’t about me. I took a deep breath, told myself not to cry and made up my mind to take charge however I could.

  I went down to the gift shop, picked up a couple of travel-sized toiletry kits and a pretty printed shift close to my mother’s size. Then I spotted a rack of designer hospital gowns, much prettier fabrics than what my Nan had on. I thought the black with white polka dots and red piping was perfect. I used some of the cash Nan had given me to pay for it all. Then I returned to the room, ushered my mother to the shower and visited the café for some breakfast. I brought it back, whipped out my laptop and researched. The news was grim.

  Once the cancer metastasized, treatment options were limited. She could have doubled her life expectancy if she’d attempted treatment, but even that might only get her another few years and the side effects sounded miserable. Add in her age, osteoporosis and weight loss and I could understand her decision.

  I watched Nan’s chest slowly rise and fall and listened to the awful machine breathing for her. It sounded like something out of a space movie- hissing air and an accordion pump. Nan was sedated to allow the breathing machine to work. It wasn’t a coma, but it looked like one. The nurse helped me change her into the new gown and announced how pretty Nan was. She was kind enough to bring several more blankets to keep Nan warm. Then I had nothing to do but wait and I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for. Waiting for her to wake up; waiting for her to die.

  Nan was so thin, almost unrecognizable as the audacious, outstanding woman she had been just months before. How did I not see how tired she was when she came to L.A.? When my mom got out of the bathroom, I left again. I needed to be out of the room so I walked down to the waiting room outside one of the surgical areas. It was designed to be open and cheerful. Live plants were in every corner; stock flowered pastel framed prints lined the walls. I found myself focusing on these strange little details as a way to clear my head. The magazines included National Geographic and Sports Illustrated. There was a wall of pamphlets on various procedures. Signs posted let me know that this was a “Cell Phone Zone” although I hadn’t seen any signs saying otherwise throughout the hospital. The walls to the hall were glass windows on the top half, giving the illusion that it was a private room without being closed in.

  A small corner of the room held a kids table and chairs, a TV with some kids’ videos. And there was also a phone with a sign telling me what extension to call if I needed assistance. They were mocking me with all the offers of assistance.

  I watched the others sitting there waiting for their loved ones to emerge from surgery. Each time a doctor approached and the news was good. Their procedure was done, everything went as expected. There wasn’t going to be a doctor coming to tell me good news: that the cancer had disappeared, that my grandmother would watch me get married and play with my children.

  “She’s been in a lot of pain, Andy.” My mother had found me without my noticing. She sat next to me and wrapped her arms around me. It was a welcome comfort. She explained that Nan had been hospitalized when she collapsed while teaching a dance class. My mom had decided to keep her stable in the hospital until I could come home, but Nan’s wish was to die in the comfort of her own home. Mom had made arrangements for hospice care and Nan would be discharged today, if I was ready.

  “Will she be able to breathe on her own?” I asked, thinking of the breathing tube.

  “Probably. They keep the breathing tube in because of her sedation. But there’s a possibility that she won’t and...” She started crying. As hard as this was for me, it must be harder for her. She was losing her mother. She wiped her face and a few hollow sobs came out. “Your father will be back soon and the hospice nurse will be here.”

  “Okay.” I tried to comfort her back. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. Let’s just get Nan home and then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

  We were all relieved when she started breathing on her own, when the fog lifted from
her eyes and she was able to smile if not yet talk. I sat with her while we rode to her home and watched her looking out the window at the little town that had been home for so long. People stopped on the street and nodded solemn ‘hello’s to our slow-moving car. Nan sat up in her seat a little straighter and I felt like I could read her mind – she didn’t want to be seen as a ghost just yet.

  Her hand felt like a silk bag draped loosely over bones. I looked away so she wouldn’t see me crying. Her house looked better than I had ever remembered. She’d obviously had someone doing routine maintenance. Maybe my dad had found a renewed zest for doing yardwork.

  It was obvious that the neighbors knew she was coming home today. The porch was lined with casseroles, flowers and balloons. I saw a fine looking peach cobbler and recognized Mrs. Merchant’s dish. I heard Nan grumble and then cough a bit, clear her throat and say “Don’t those fools know I ain’t dead yet?”

  I smiled, but didn’t know how to respond so I said nothing. We set up a ramp to get her wheelchair up the steps. I looked sadly at the assortment of decorated canes inside her doorway, realizing that she would never be using any of them again. The hospice nurse got to work setting up equipment, changing sheets, getting Nan comfortable with pillows and the family all stood in the living room – what Nan had always called the parlor – waiting to know what to do.