The Dance (63 page)

Even though I was exhausted and craved alone time with Hart, I was in no rush to end the night. Our visit seemed to really help Will’s spirits. It was no secret this would more than likely be the last holiday he would see so it needed to be a happy one. I curled up in the recliner draping an extra blanket over me. My eyelids drifted down as ESPN faded into the background. The next thing I knew the raspy deep voice of the man I loved swirled in my ears.

“Not a problem,” Hart said.

“I mean it. Coming here tonight was very generous of both of you. I know Bryson’s being pulled in all directions.”

My eyes stayed closed and my ears open.

Hart cleared his throat. “She’s a strong woman.”

“Yeah, she is.” Pause. “Bryson said you went to high school with us.”

“Just senior year.”

Cough. Cough.
“Funny, I don’t remember you.”

“You were busy getting hit in the head with a football. Besides, we didn’t exactly run in the same crowd.”

“I know but Bryson and I did. All of our friends were the same for the most part. It’s just odd she remembered you well enough to recognize you at the rehab after all these years.”

Hart was silent for a long time. When he finally responded there was tension in his tone. “Look, Will. I’m sorry you’re sick. No one should have to go through this disease. But you and I will never be friends. I tolerate you because you’re in Bryson’s life. I’m here for her. Period.”

“Are you in love with her?” Will asked with a slight tremble in his voice.

“Yes.”

“Then you better be good to her or I’ll come back and go all poltergeist on your ass.”

The sounds of Sports Center replaced the tense voice. Snuggling deeper into the chair, I faded back to dozing with a smile on my face, feeling loved and protected.

“Bryson!”

I bolted straight up in bed at the sound of Will’s strained voice coming over the baby monitor.

Will was discharged three weeks ago on New Year’s Day. With his immune system being so compromised the pneumonia took a big toll on his body. His cough had gotten deeper, his body was weaker, and his appetite was almost nonexistent. With each day that passed he seemed to be spending more time in bed. While in the hospital Will noticed the vision in his right eye had deteriorated, another side effect of the disease. He was able to get around the house on his own and take care of himself. But with the loss of vision and his weak body driving had become a thing of the past. Nancy had been kind enough to work my schedule around any doctor visits Will had since I was his driver now. Will put on a brave face, claiming to be feeling better and stronger. But I couldn’t see any evidence of it.

I shook the sleep from my head while tossing the blanket off of me. After work I had come up to my room to change clothes. Before heading downstairs to make a dinner Will probably wasn’t going to eat, I lay down on the bed. Apparently my body needed the rest because an hour later, I was startled from a deep sleep by Will’s call. Looking down, I checked to make sure I had indeed already changed into my pair of navy blue sweatpants and gray sweatshirt.

For some reason as I ran out of the room I took the baby monitor with me. It had been one of the gifts my parents had bought when I was pregnant. I was able to donate the things Will and I had bought for the baby, but I kept everything both sets of grandparents bought. When Will came home from the hospital this time, I thought we could put it to good use in case he needed me during the night. Moans and a coughing fit blared through the tiny speaker as I descended the stairs.

I headed into Will’s room without knocking. He was sitting on the side of the bed hunched over with his hands gripping the edge of the mattress. The brown long-sleeve crewneck his body once filled out, hung loosely to his skeletal frame.

“Sorry, I didn’t get here quicker. I fell asleep,” I said, as I squatted in front of him.

His face was beet red while his lips were faintly tinted blue due to his uncontrolled coughing.

“Do you want me to get your oxygen?”

Raising his index finger, he shook his head in response. Will’s poor lungs had been beaten up so much between the cancer and the pneumonia that Dr. Rudolph put him on oxygen. At first Will argued with the doctor, not wanting to be tethered to the tank, but breathing won out. He still used it only as a last resort.

After several deep inhalations through his nose, Will’s breathing regulated and the coughing subsided.

Lifting his gaze to mine, he said, “I wanted to take a shower but I was having a hard time standing and then the fucking coughing started.”

“I’ve told you over and over to call me when you need to get up. You’re not steady enough on your feet yet to be trying it on your own.”

The whiny Will from the rehab had disappeared and in his place was the stubborn Will. When Dr. Rudolph ordered a walker and a wheelchair on discharge from the hospital, Will was not happy and refused to take them. Without Will knowing, I went back the next day to pick up both items and stored them in the large hallway closet. Better to be safe than sorry. I understood where Will was coming from. AIDS was stripping everything from him little by little and he was determined to put up a fight to the end.

“I’m not a baby, Bryson.”

“Then stop acting like one and ask for help.”

“Would you please help me into the bathroom so I can take a shower?”

Standing, I teased. “See, that wasn’t too difficult.”

As Will draped his arm around my shoulders, I wrapped mine around his waist and lifted. Gripping my shoulder like he was hanging on for dear life, Will and I slowly made our way toward the bathroom, each step harder than the last as his energy level dwindled. Once inside, I helped him lower onto the shower seat we’d gotten the second day he was home from the hospital. His legs weren’t strong or steady enough to risk standing in a shower.

Turning on the water, I aimed the handheld showerhead away from Will. “I’ll get the water going so it can heat up.”

Will nodded without looking toward me.

I gathered the shower gel, shampoo, washcloth, towel, and a pair of pajamas, placing everything on the small portable folding table we’d set up.

“Do you want your shaving kit?”

Will shook his head.

“Do you need me to help you get undressed?”

Dark brown tear-filled eyes looked up at me. “I need help standing to get my pants off.”

“Okay, I’ll pull you up and then you can steady yourself on my shoulders, while I slide them down.”

Will put his hands in mine and I tugged him into a standing position. Once he felt secure enough, I undid his jeans. His body tensed and his fingers dug into my skin as I pushed the denim and his boxers down to mid-thigh. Easing Will back down, I squatted and gently tugged his jeans and underwear off. As I looked up, I caught tears running down his sunken cheeks. His dignity was being ciphered off a little more each day. I wasn’t sure whether or not to say anything. I didn’t want to make him feel even more self-conscious but I also didn’t want him to feel less than the person he was.

“Thank you, Bryson.”

I stood and folded the pair of jeans. “No problem.”

“I don’t deserve your compassion but I need you to know how much I appreciate it.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I said, “I know. I’m glad I can be here for you.”

A faint smile ghosted over his thin lips.

“I’ll go get supper ready. Call me when you’re done or need anything.”

He simply nodded as he wiped his tears.

Pulling the door shut, I caught Will taking off his shirt. My hand flew to my mouth as an audible gasp escaped me. Thank god the shower drowned it out enough so he didn’t hear. I’d felt how thin Will had gotten whenever I helped him walk but to see it was another thing. The once athletic body had been eaten away. His shoulder blades were bony and protruded out so far they looked as if they could cut through his skin. And there had to be at least a dozen or more Kaposi lesions scattered up and down his back.

Tears stung the back of my eyes as the tightening in my chest grew so intense it shattered my heart. I wondered what went through Will’s mind when he looked in the mirror. He seemed more interested in making amends rather than sharing his feelings about what was happening to him. As his body weakened, I saw the fear in his eyes strengthen. But at this point, I couldn’t tell if Will was afraid of dying or living.

“Bryson!”

My body jumped, causing the spoon to slip from my hand and into the big bowl of chicken salad I was mixing. I looked up to find Nancy standing in the doorway of her office, glaring at me, pointing at me, summoning me. My mind quickly flipped through possible reasons as to why she was pissed off at me. Nothing obvious was popping up at the moment.

“Bryson!” Nancy’s voice bounced off the walls.

“Coming!” I quickly covered the bowl of chicken salad.

Wiping my hands with the rag, I hurried across the room and into Nancy’s office.

She was sitting behind her desk looking intently at the computer. “Close the door and sit down, please.”

Behind the gruff intimidating exterior Nancy was a caring and good-hearted person. A year ago she was the only one willing to give me a chance to prove myself with this job. She’d become a bit like a second mom to me. But there were still times when she scared the shit out of me.

I lowered into the chair across from her and fidgeted with the hem of my chef’s jacket.

Nancy swiveled her chair in my direction, her dark frames pushed halfway down her nose.

With her brows perched high on her forehead, she peered over her glasses at me. “Bryson, do you think I’m harder on you than the others around here?”

Wetting my dry lips, I wondered if this was a trick question. “Um . . . I’m not sure I’d say harder . . . but . . .”

“I am. I am harder on you. And do you know why?”

I figured silence accompanied by a shoulder shrug was the best response.

Nancy pulled off her glasses and placed them in front of her. “It’s because I see an enormous amount of potential. You’ve been with me for quite a while now and look how far you’ve come. No longer are you this timid little girl who had never held a job before. You’re an incredibly talented culinary artist.”

I could sense a huge “but” in my near future.

“It’s because of those talents along with your drive and perfectionism that I’ve put you in charge of some of my most coveted events. It’s also why I’m about to rip you a new one.”

The lump in my throat fell to my stomach like a boulder. Again my mental flip book was coming up empty as to what this could be about.

“The Virginia Hamilton funeral was at one o’clock today.”

The Hamilton family was a big name in town and one of Nancy’s biggest clients. Miss Virginia was the matriarch of the family who’d lived a long happy life. After her huge funeral service at Saint John’s the family was having an equally huge reception at the church hall.

“Yes and the van was packed and went out by 11 a.m.”

“Oh the van got there on time. I got a call from Mr. Hamilton. He said that although his ninety-five-year-old mother did enjoy football, he didn’t find the Super Bowl party set up an appropriate theme for her funeral!” She yelled the last few words.