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Michigan Weather and Women: Part 2
Michigan Weather and Women: Part 2
Dancing, and other forms of sentimentality.
Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the
Podcast at Connected.
As we finished the prep work, I asked Wilma about her
day with Mary.
"She is a good kid but is carrying a lot of anger and
shame. We spent most of the day getting in touch with that anger. It takes some
people years before they can express their emotions through art; it took her
about five minutes. But we had to take some breaks to clean up the paint
splatters afterward before they stained."
"Oh shit! Sorry about that. I can pay to replace
anything that;"
"Nothing to apologize for; I asked her to express how
she felt, and she did it in the way that felt right to her."
"Well, I appreciate your taking the time. I am just her
big brother; I feel so lost when it comes to parenting."
"Being a parent doesn't mean that you know any more
than anyone else, and it certainly doesn't mean that you know any better. For
what it's worth, I think you are doing a fine job with your family. I know that
you don't have your parents around to say it, but this old woman is mighty
proud of who you are and of how you have stepped up for your brother and
sisters. They are very lucky to have you."
I turned away so that Wilma wouldn't see me getting choked
up. I couldn't remember the last time that someone had said they were proud of
me. Soon enough, though, it was dinner time, and Erin came into the kitchen
with that same look of amusement on her face.
"Sorry to bother the chef, but Lane needs some help
that only a big brother can provide."
When I gave her a quizzical look, she blushed.
"It seems like he is going through puberty, which can
pose; some new challenges. When I was assessing his ankle, he; well, indicated
his interest in me in a way that can be difficult to hide, particularly while
wearing sweatpants. It's natural for his body to react that way at that age,
and it's nothing for him to feel badly about, but he was mortified. I think he
could use a bit of brotherly guidance and understanding."
I went to the living room and saw that Lane was curled up on
the couch and looked like he was fighting back tears.
"How are you doing, Buddy?"
He couldn't even look at me he was so embarrassed.
"I am so sorry; I just couldn't help it. I don't know
why it started to get bigger, and I wanted it to stop, and it wouldn't and then
she saw me, and;" he continued as he fought back a sob. "Can we just
go home?"
"Erin is a doctor. She knows how the human body works
and has seen that kind of thing a hundred times. She isn't mad at you or
embarrassed. She just feels bad that you feel so bad. This is just part of
getting older and growing up.
"Did I ever tell you about what happened in Miss Iron's
class when I was a freshman?
Miss Iron was a bit of a legend among the male students at
our local high school. She was the youngest and prettiest teacher, by far, and
even though she always dressed professionally, the clothing style had yet to be
invented that could fully conceal her bountiful natural endowment.
"Well, I liked Miss Irons a lot. She was one of the few
teachers who looked past my difficulty with reading and writing. So, I
developed a little crush on her, which was fine until the inevitable; hmm,
physical demonstration of my crush; happened in class one day, just before she
asked me to collect everyone's quizzes. I tried to delay, I tried to ask a
friend to do it instead, but eventually, I had to stand up. It took me until my
junior year to live that one down."
As Lane listened to my story, he turned to face me and his
second-hand embarrassment for me helped to push his embarrassment to the side.
"So, what happened?"
"Miss Irons was lovely and kind like she always was,
but I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me or to get hit by a bolt of
lightning. Things would have been fine if she hadn't mentioned what happened to
the principal, who called Mom. She didn't find the story funny at all."
I hadn't thought of the aftermath when I started telling
Lane this particular story, but as they say, might as well put it in four-wheel
drive and keep going.
"Mom was mad?"
"By then, Mom was pretty much always angry. I did my
best to keep her away from you and the girls when she got that way, but yeah;
she was mad."
"Are you mad at me?"
"No, Bud, I'm not. In a few years, once your
embarrassment has died down a little, I will tease you mercilessly about this
because that's what brothers do; and maybe threaten to tell your girlfriend, if
you fall behind on your chores or homework. But I will never get mad at you for
something that you can't control. And I promise that Erin isn't mad at you
either."
Just then, Mary poked her head in to tell us that dinner was
on the table.
"Are you safe now, or do you need a few more
minutes."
"I'm good. Thanks, Dad."
After I helped Lane hobble into the dining room, we got down
to the business of eating and teasing each other, but not necessarily in that
order. It felt good; almost like what I imagined a real family would feel like.
Eventually, the conversation turned to more serious matters, though, and Erin
led off the questions.
"So, how do you know Gran, and why are you wearing
Grampy's favorite sweater? And, for what it's worth, I don't remember him
filling it out in quite the way that you do."
I blushed a bit as Wilma jumped in.
"If Phillip had filled out that sweater like young
Davis here, it wouldn't have stayed on him for very long, I can tell you
that."
"Gran!" Erin exclaimed, laughing while sounding
scandalized. "I didn't need that mental image. Heck, none of us needed
that mental image."
"Oh, don't you worry, Dear. He still filled it out well
enough, and it looked equally good on our bedroom floor."
We were pretty much all blushing at that point, which I think
was Wilma's objective, so I quickly changed the topic.
"I am just your mother's plumber. I came out to fix her
boiler and then finished the job earlier this week when a couple of parts came
in that I needed."
Wilma jumped in at that point and added her two cents to my
story.
"He also brought me my groceries and we had a lovely
conversation. He is a real Renaissance gentleman, a rarity these days."
Erin looked grateful but concerned.
"Did you have enough money to cover the bill, Gran? You
know I can help if you need;"
I tried to jump in before Wilma could reply.
"No need to worry, the bill was paid in full;"
"Hogwash," Wilma exclaimed as I tried to finish,
turning to Mary before she continued.
"Your brother wouldn't let me pay him a cent for the
work that he did. Not even for the parts that needed to be replaced! He is a
very nice boy but a terrible businessman."
I turned to Erin for support.
"I figured your Gran has enough going on right now with
her health and all. It was the least I could do to help her out."
Erin looked at me with a strange expression on her face. I
didn't have much experience with women, so I figured I must have made her angry
somehow. Most of my interactions with women, including my sisters, seemed to
end with them being upset with me for one reason or another, but she didn't
sound angry when she spoke.
"Thank you, Davis, that was very sweet of you."
"Yeah, well; you see, it's just; pass the fish,
please."
"That still doesn't explain why you're wearing Grampy's
favorite sweater.
When I was a little girl, I used to curl up in Grampy's lap
and snuggle into that sweater as he read to me. He was wearing it when I danced
my first dance with him in front of the fireplace. Do you remember that old
record player, Gran? You used to bring it out and we would waltz around the
living room to Moon River."
"I still have that record player here somewhere, let me
go see if I can find it."
Erin started to protest, but it was too late.
"To finish answering your question, Erin, we were here
today because your Gran offered to mentor Mary. I tried to politely decline,
but your Gran is pretty persistent when she wants to be."
"That sounds like Gran. Most of the time when she makes
a suggestion, it is really a command."
"While we are asking questions, how is Lane's
ankle?"
"It's pretty badly sprained, and he will need to use
crutches to walk for the next couple of weeks. You should bring him to the
hospital to get some X-rays done as well, to make sure that he doesn't have any
fractures."
I could feel myself deflate as she mentioned X-rays.
"I'm not trying to be cheap, but are the X-rays
absolutely necessary? We don't have the best insurance; we got it through the
exchange. I guess it's better than nothing, but the deductible is pretty high,
and my other sister, Alison, her college tuition is due soon. But if you say
it's important, I will put in some extra hours to make it work."
It didn't usually bother me that we were poor. Heck, most
everyone we knew, except the McDougals, was poor. But it hit home when you had
to tell a beautiful doctor with bright amber eyes that you couldn't afford an
X-ray for your little brother unless it was urgent.
"Tell you what. I will be working at the hospital in
Petoskey tomorrow, so why don't you bring Lane by, and I will take care of him?
I will make sure that he gets a pair of loaner crutches for as long as he needs
them."
"You don't need to do that for us."
Erin gave me another one of her looks, this one I was more
familiar with; I was pretty sure it was annoyance.
"So, just to be clear, you can look after my Gran, fix
her boiler for free, and bring her groceries whenever you feel like it, but I
can't look after your brother and make sure that his ankle is treated
properly?"
"Well, when you put it that way, I sound like a bit of
a jackass. I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted. Come by the hospital at 11 AM
tomorrow."
Before we could continue, the sound of a 45 playing on an
old record player filled the house. You could hear the hisses and pops before
Ella Fitzgerald's voice began to sing "Dream a Little Dream of Me."
Chapter 3.
We got up from the table and followed the music back to the
living room. I helped Lane out of his chair while he half-hobbled and
half-hopped along beside me. Wilma had set her ancient record player up in the
corner beside a stack of old 45s, and she had a faraway look in her eyes as she
looked out the picture window toward the lake.
"I think it's time for me to ask the prettiest girl in
the place to dance," I said, as my eyes swept across the room.
"But unfortunately, it's a three-way tie. So, will you
do me the honor?" I said as I held out my hand to Wilma.
"I haven't danced since Phillip passed. You know, we
used to dance together every Friday night. It didn't matter where we were or
what we were doing, we would always make time to dance at least one song
together, even if the music was only in our heads."
"I imagine I will be a pretty poor partner compared to
Phillip, but I will try not to step on your toes."
Wilma and I ended up dancing a slow foxtrot to
"Unforgettable" by Nat King Cole. She smiled at me as we slowly
circled the living room.
"You're a very good dancer, young man."
"Our mother taught me when I was very young."
Before she began with the drugs and men, our mother had been
a showgirl in New York and then Las Vegas. When she got pregnant with me, she
moved back to Mackinaw City and started teaching ballroom dancing at a local
studio. By the time I was five, I was her practice partner of choice, and she
always insisted that I lead, despite being only half her size.
"The man always leads, Darling, that's just the way of
the world."
I was hardly a man at the time, but I never disagreed with
my mother when she was in a good mood, because I knew it could shift in an
instant. So, I learned to dance, and I learned to lead. The memories came
flooding back as I guided Wilma into a soft over-sway, and she smiled with
delight.
"Oh my, you do know how to dance!"
I couldn't help but smile back.
"I can't take all the credit. I think Phillip must have
infused this sweater with his fancy footwork."
As the song ended, I took a step back and did my best to
give Wilma a gracious bow.
"It was a pleasure dancing with you, my lady."
"The pleasure was all mine, good sir."
I turned toward Mary and held out my hand. She hesitated
before Wilma declared, "There are no wallflowers in this house."
Mary slowly stood but looked anxious as I took her hand.
"Davis, I don't know how to dance. Mom was; she was too
far gone to teach me by the time I was old enough to learn."
"That's okay," I reassured her. "If there is
anything that Mom made sure of, it's that I know how to lead. Just relax, and I
will guide you through it."
Wilma helped Lane, who had taken over as DJ, to choose a
slower song so that Mary would feel more comfortable, and I heard the opening
bars of "What a Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong. I started to
lead Mary through a slow rumba, and she picked up the steps very quickly. She
was a natural. I felt a sudden stab of regret as we moved together across the
floor.
"I'm sorry. I should have made time to teach you to
dance. But the last few years, it has just taken everything I have to keep
us;"
"It's alright. You've had other things on your mind.
And look; you are teaching me how to dance, now."
As Mary grew more confident, I guided her through a simple
underarm turn, and we ended with a dip, which made her giggle and earned a
round of applause from the others. Finally, I turned to Erin, who was sitting
on the couch beside Lane. I suddenly felt very shy and, for the first time that
evening, she looked nervous as well.
"Would you dance with me, Erin?"
She didn't reply but stood and took my hand. We waited for a
moment while Wilma and Lane chose a new 45 and then listened to the pop and
hiss as it started to play. Soon, an alto saxophone introduced the Henri
Mancini version of "Moon River," and we started a slow waltz.
Although there was space between us, it was bridged by an electric charge that
connected and drew us together.
Even though I spent most of the dance looking over Erin's
shoulder, every detail of her beauty was etched in my memory, and I felt a warm
breeze pass between us, raising goosebumps on my skin. We barely noticed the
pause as the song ended, and a new one began until Etta James began to sing.
At last, my love has come along
My lonely days are over
And life is like a song
The song was in 4/4 time, so I switched to a foxtrot and
Erin followed as we glided across the smooth wood of the living room floor. I
was so caught up in the moment, and in Erin, that I led her through a turn that
transitioned into an over sway, before I stepped backward, allowing her to
gently pivot into me. Our eyes met and I was lost in them again. Before we
could break the spell, a heavy gust of wind shook the house, and the power
flickered out.
The room went dark, which sharpened my remaining senses.
Suddenly, the warmth of Erin's breath on my neck felt like wildfire across my
skin. We were motionless for a three-heartbeat eternity before the lights
flickered and came back on. I let go of Erin and felt all of my longing and
awkwardness rush back in.
"Thank you, Erin. That was;" I couldn't finish;
words didn't seem enough to express how I felt.
"I should check the breakers and make sure that
everything is alright, and then we should go. Why don't I wash these clothes
and drop them back for you later."
Wilma just smiled and shook her head.
"If you like them, please keep them. Otherwise, they
will just grow old and musty like me."
A little while later, we said our goodbyes, but I promised
to bring Lane to the hospital the next morning. Wilma told Mary that she would
see her on Wednesday after school and again the next Sunday. I was expecting
Mary to protest, but she just gave a meek, "Yes, Wilma."
I was nervous when I took Lane to the hospital the next day.
The deductible on our insurance was high enough that we paid for pretty much
anything less serious than a severed limb out of pocket. Erin, however, was as
good as her word. After the X-ray confirmed that there were no breaks or
fractures in the bones around his ankle, she re-wrapped it and arranged for a
pair of loaner crutches that he could use for as long as he needed them. Before
we left, Erin asked me if I wanted to grab a coffee in the cafeteria, to which
I readily agreed. I gave my phone to Lane so he could amuse himself while Erin
and I talked.
"I just wanted to say how much I appreciate what you
did for Gran. I do what I can, but I spend half my time at the Children's
Hospital down in Grand Rapids right now and I am often on call while I am here.
I just don't have the time to give her the help that she needs."
"Honestly, it's no big deal. I do a lot of work around
Good Hart since the bigger plumbing companies don't like to travel that far, so
I don't mind looking in on her while I am there. And she seems to have taken a
real interest in Mary, so the least I can do is to bring her some groceries and
help around the place a bit."
Erin pursed her lips and looked like she had just bitten
into a lemon.
"The 'least you can do' is more than the rest of our
family can be bothered to do put together, so thank you."
"I meant to ask you about that. What did your Gran do
to end up so isolated from the rest of your family?"
"The rest of my family is; there is no nice way to put
it, they're snobs. None of them have any interest in spending time 'up north'
as they call it, and they can't wait for Gran to move into a retirement home
and die so they can get their money and forget about this place. That's why no
one comes to visit Gran anymore, even for Thanksgiving; it's part of their
campaign to convince her to sell her land to the McDougals. Before you came
along,
View all episodes
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Michigan Weather and Women: Part 2
Dancing, and other forms of sentimentality.
Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the
Podcast at Connected.
As we finished the prep work, I asked Wilma about her
day with Mary.
"She is a good kid but is carrying a lot of anger and
shame. We spent most of the day getting in touch with that anger. It takes some
people years before they can express their emotions through art; it took her
about five minutes. But we had to take some breaks to clean up the paint
splatters afterward before they stained."
"Oh shit! Sorry about that. I can pay to replace
anything that;"
"Nothing to apologize for; I asked her to express how
she felt, and she did it in the way that felt right to her."
"Well, I appreciate your taking the time. I am just her
big brother; I feel so lost when it comes to parenting."
"Being a parent doesn't mean that you know any more
than anyone else, and it certainly doesn't mean that you know any better. For
what it's worth, I think you are doing a fine job with your family. I know that
you don't have your parents around to say it, but this old woman is mighty
proud of who you are and of how you have stepped up for your brother and
sisters. They are very lucky to have you."
I turned away so that Wilma wouldn't see me getting choked
up. I couldn't remember the last time that someone had said they were proud of
me. Soon enough, though, it was dinner time, and Erin came into the kitchen
with that same look of amusement on her face.
"Sorry to bother the chef, but Lane needs some help
that only a big brother can provide."
When I gave her a quizzical look, she blushed.
"It seems like he is going through puberty, which can
pose; some new challenges. When I was assessing his ankle, he; well, indicated
his interest in me in a way that can be difficult to hide, particularly while
wearing sweatpants. It's natural for his body to react that way at that age,
and it's nothing for him to feel badly about, but he was mortified. I think he
could use a bit of brotherly guidance and understanding."
I went to the living room and saw that Lane was curled up on
the couch and looked like he was fighting back tears.
"How are you doing, Buddy?"
He couldn't even look at me he was so embarrassed.
"I am so sorry; I just couldn't help it. I don't know
why it started to get bigger, and I wanted it to stop, and it wouldn't and then
she saw me, and;" he continued as he fought back a sob. "Can we just
go home?"
"Erin is a doctor. She knows how the human body works
and has seen that kind of thing a hundred times. She isn't mad at you or
embarrassed. She just feels bad that you feel so bad. This is just part of
getting older and growing up.
"Did I ever tell you about what happened in Miss Iron's
class when I was a freshman?
Miss Iron was a bit of a legend among the male students at
our local high school. She was the youngest and prettiest teacher, by far, and
even though she always dressed professionally, the clothing style had yet to be
invented that could fully conceal her bountiful natural endowment.
"Well, I liked Miss Irons a lot. She was one of the few
teachers who looked past my difficulty with reading and writing. So, I
developed a little crush on her, which was fine until the inevitable; hmm,
physical demonstration of my crush; happened in class one day, just before she
asked me to collect everyone's quizzes. I tried to delay, I tried to ask a
friend to do it instead, but eventually, I had to stand up. It took me until my
junior year to live that one down."
As Lane listened to my story, he turned to face me and his
second-hand embarrassment for me helped to push his embarrassment to the side.
"So, what happened?"
"Miss Irons was lovely and kind like she always was,
but I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me or to get hit by a bolt of
lightning. Things would have been fine if she hadn't mentioned what happened to
the principal, who called Mom. She didn't find the story funny at all."
I hadn't thought of the aftermath when I started telling
Lane this particular story, but as they say, might as well put it in four-wheel
drive and keep going.
"Mom was mad?"
"By then, Mom was pretty much always angry. I did my
best to keep her away from you and the girls when she got that way, but yeah;
she was mad."
"Are you mad at me?"
"No, Bud, I'm not. In a few years, once your
embarrassment has died down a little, I will tease you mercilessly about this
because that's what brothers do; and maybe threaten to tell your girlfriend, if
you fall behind on your chores or homework. But I will never get mad at you for
something that you can't control. And I promise that Erin isn't mad at you
either."
Just then, Mary poked her head in to tell us that dinner was
on the table.
"Are you safe now, or do you need a few more
minutes."
"I'm good. Thanks, Dad."
After I helped Lane hobble into the dining room, we got down
to the business of eating and teasing each other, but not necessarily in that
order. It felt good; almost like what I imagined a real family would feel like.
Eventually, the conversation turned to more serious matters, though, and Erin
led off the questions.
"So, how do you know Gran, and why are you wearing
Grampy's favorite sweater? And, for what it's worth, I don't remember him
filling it out in quite the way that you do."
I blushed a bit as Wilma jumped in.
"If Phillip had filled out that sweater like young
Davis here, it wouldn't have stayed on him for very long, I can tell you
that."
"Gran!" Erin exclaimed, laughing while sounding
scandalized. "I didn't need that mental image. Heck, none of us needed
that mental image."
"Oh, don't you worry, Dear. He still filled it out well
enough, and it looked equally good on our bedroom floor."
We were pretty much all blushing at that point, which I think
was Wilma's objective, so I quickly changed the topic.
"I am just your mother's plumber. I came out to fix her
boiler and then finished the job earlier this week when a couple of parts came
in that I needed."
Wilma jumped in at that point and added her two cents to my
story.
"He also brought me my groceries and we had a lovely
conversation. He is a real Renaissance gentleman, a rarity these days."
Erin looked grateful but concerned.
"Did you have enough money to cover the bill, Gran? You
know I can help if you need;"
I tried to jump in before Wilma could reply.
"No need to worry, the bill was paid in full;"
"Hogwash," Wilma exclaimed as I tried to finish,
turning to Mary before she continued.
"Your brother wouldn't let me pay him a cent for the
work that he did. Not even for the parts that needed to be replaced! He is a
very nice boy but a terrible businessman."
I turned to Erin for support.
"I figured your Gran has enough going on right now with
her health and all. It was the least I could do to help her out."
Erin looked at me with a strange expression on her face. I
didn't have much experience with women, so I figured I must have made her angry
somehow. Most of my interactions with women, including my sisters, seemed to
end with them being upset with me for one reason or another, but she didn't
sound angry when she spoke.
"Thank you, Davis, that was very sweet of you."
"Yeah, well; you see, it's just; pass the fish,
please."
"That still doesn't explain why you're wearing Grampy's
favorite sweater.
When I was a little girl, I used to curl up in Grampy's lap
and snuggle into that sweater as he read to me. He was wearing it when I danced
my first dance with him in front of the fireplace. Do you remember that old
record player, Gran? You used to bring it out and we would waltz around the
living room to Moon River."
"I still have that record player here somewhere, let me
go see if I can find it."
Erin started to protest, but it was too late.
"To finish answering your question, Erin, we were here
today because your Gran offered to mentor Mary. I tried to politely decline,
but your Gran is pretty persistent when she wants to be."
"That sounds like Gran. Most of the time when she makes
a suggestion, it is really a command."
"While we are asking questions, how is Lane's
ankle?"
"It's pretty badly sprained, and he will need to use
crutches to walk for the next couple of weeks. You should bring him to the
hospital to get some X-rays done as well, to make sure that he doesn't have any
fractures."
I could feel myself deflate as she mentioned X-rays.
"I'm not trying to be cheap, but are the X-rays
absolutely necessary? We don't have the best insurance; we got it through the
exchange. I guess it's better than nothing, but the deductible is pretty high,
and my other sister, Alison, her college tuition is due soon. But if you say
it's important, I will put in some extra hours to make it work."
It didn't usually bother me that we were poor. Heck, most
everyone we knew, except the McDougals, was poor. But it hit home when you had
to tell a beautiful doctor with bright amber eyes that you couldn't afford an
X-ray for your little brother unless it was urgent.
"Tell you what. I will be working at the hospital in
Petoskey tomorrow, so why don't you bring Lane by, and I will take care of him?
I will make sure that he gets a pair of loaner crutches for as long as he needs
them."
"You don't need to do that for us."
Erin gave me another one of her looks, this one I was more
familiar with; I was pretty sure it was annoyance.
"So, just to be clear, you can look after my Gran, fix
her boiler for free, and bring her groceries whenever you feel like it, but I
can't look after your brother and make sure that his ankle is treated
properly?"
"Well, when you put it that way, I sound like a bit of
a jackass. I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted. Come by the hospital at 11 AM
tomorrow."
Before we could continue, the sound of a 45 playing on an
old record player filled the house. You could hear the hisses and pops before
Ella Fitzgerald's voice began to sing "Dream a Little Dream of Me."
Chapter 3.
We got up from the table and followed the music back to the
living room. I helped Lane out of his chair while he half-hobbled and
half-hopped along beside me. Wilma had set her ancient record player up in the
corner beside a stack of old 45s, and she had a faraway look in her eyes as she
looked out the picture window toward the lake.
"I think it's time for me to ask the prettiest girl in
the place to dance," I said, as my eyes swept across the room.
"But unfortunately, it's a three-way tie. So, will you
do me the honor?" I said as I held out my hand to Wilma.
"I haven't danced since Phillip passed. You know, we
used to dance together every Friday night. It didn't matter where we were or
what we were doing, we would always make time to dance at least one song
together, even if the music was only in our heads."
"I imagine I will be a pretty poor partner compared to
Phillip, but I will try not to step on your toes."
Wilma and I ended up dancing a slow foxtrot to
"Unforgettable" by Nat King Cole. She smiled at me as we slowly
circled the living room.
"You're a very good dancer, young man."
"Our mother taught me when I was very young."
Before she began with the drugs and men, our mother had been
a showgirl in New York and then Las Vegas. When she got pregnant with me, she
moved back to Mackinaw City and started teaching ballroom dancing at a local
studio. By the time I was five, I was her practice partner of choice, and she
always insisted that I lead, despite being only half her size.
"The man always leads, Darling, that's just the way of
the world."
I was hardly a man at the time, but I never disagreed with
my mother when she was in a good mood, because I knew it could shift in an
instant. So, I learned to dance, and I learned to lead. The memories came
flooding back as I guided Wilma into a soft over-sway, and she smiled with
delight.
"Oh my, you do know how to dance!"
I couldn't help but smile back.
"I can't take all the credit. I think Phillip must have
infused this sweater with his fancy footwork."
As the song ended, I took a step back and did my best to
give Wilma a gracious bow.
"It was a pleasure dancing with you, my lady."
"The pleasure was all mine, good sir."
I turned toward Mary and held out my hand. She hesitated
before Wilma declared, "There are no wallflowers in this house."
Mary slowly stood but looked anxious as I took her hand.
"Davis, I don't know how to dance. Mom was; she was too
far gone to teach me by the time I was old enough to learn."
"That's okay," I reassured her. "If there is
anything that Mom made sure of, it's that I know how to lead. Just relax, and I
will guide you through it."
Wilma helped Lane, who had taken over as DJ, to choose a
slower song so that Mary would feel more comfortable, and I heard the opening
bars of "What a Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong. I started to
lead Mary through a slow rumba, and she picked up the steps very quickly. She
was a natural. I felt a sudden stab of regret as we moved together across the
floor.
"I'm sorry. I should have made time to teach you to
dance. But the last few years, it has just taken everything I have to keep
us;"
"It's alright. You've had other things on your mind.
And look; you are teaching me how to dance, now."
As Mary grew more confident, I guided her through a simple
underarm turn, and we ended with a dip, which made her giggle and earned a
round of applause from the others. Finally, I turned to Erin, who was sitting
on the couch beside Lane. I suddenly felt very shy and, for the first time that
evening, she looked nervous as well.
"Would you dance with me, Erin?"
She didn't reply but stood and took my hand. We waited for a
moment while Wilma and Lane chose a new 45 and then listened to the pop and
hiss as it started to play. Soon, an alto saxophone introduced the Henri
Mancini version of "Moon River," and we started a slow waltz.
Although there was space between us, it was bridged by an electric charge that
connected and drew us together.
Even though I spent most of the dance looking over Erin's
shoulder, every detail of her beauty was etched in my memory, and I felt a warm
breeze pass between us, raising goosebumps on my skin. We barely noticed the
pause as the song ended, and a new one began until Etta James began to sing.
At last, my love has come along
My lonely days are over
And life is like a song
The song was in 4/4 time, so I switched to a foxtrot and
Erin followed as we glided across the smooth wood of the living room floor. I
was so caught up in the moment, and in Erin, that I led her through a turn that
transitioned into an over sway, before I stepped backward, allowing her to
gently pivot into me. Our eyes met and I was lost in them again. Before we
could break the spell, a heavy gust of wind shook the house, and the power
flickered out.
The room went dark, which sharpened my remaining senses.
Suddenly, the warmth of Erin's breath on my neck felt like wildfire across my
skin. We were motionless for a three-heartbeat eternity before the lights
flickered and came back on. I let go of Erin and felt all of my longing and
awkwardness rush back in.
"Thank you, Erin. That was;" I couldn't finish;
words didn't seem enough to express how I felt.
"I should check the breakers and make sure that
everything is alright, and then we should go. Why don't I wash these clothes
and drop them back for you later."
Wilma just smiled and shook her head.
"If you like them, please keep them. Otherwise, they
will just grow old and musty like me."
A little while later, we said our goodbyes, but I promised
to bring Lane to the hospital the next morning. Wilma told Mary that she would
see her on Wednesday after school and again the next Sunday. I was expecting
Mary to protest, but she just gave a meek, "Yes, Wilma."
I was nervous when I took Lane to the hospital the next day.
The deductible on our insurance was high enough that we paid for pretty much
anything less serious than a severed limb out of pocket. Erin, however, was as
good as her word. After the X-ray confirmed that there were no breaks or
fractures in the bones around his ankle, she re-wrapped it and arranged for a
pair of loaner crutches that he could use for as long as he needed them. Before
we left, Erin asked me if I wanted to grab a coffee in the cafeteria, to which
I readily agreed. I gave my phone to Lane so he could amuse himself while Erin
and I talked.
"I just wanted to say how much I appreciate what you
did for Gran. I do what I can, but I spend half my time at the Children's
Hospital down in Grand Rapids right now and I am often on call while I am here.
I just don't have the time to give her the help that she needs."
"Honestly, it's no big deal. I do a lot of work around
Good Hart since the bigger plumbing companies don't like to travel that far, so
I don't mind looking in on her while I am there. And she seems to have taken a
real interest in Mary, so the least I can do is to bring her some groceries and
help around the place a bit."
Erin pursed her lips and looked like she had just bitten
into a lemon.
"The 'least you can do' is more than the rest of our
family can be bothered to do put together, so thank you."
"I meant to ask you about that. What did your Gran do
to end up so isolated from the rest of your family?"
"The rest of my family is; there is no nice way to put
it, they're snobs. None of them have any interest in spending time 'up north'
as they call it, and they can't wait for Gran to move into a retirement home
and die so they can get their money and forget about this place. That's why no
one comes to visit Gran anymore, even for Thanksgiving; it's part of their
campaign to convince her to sell her land to the McDougals. Before you came
along,
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