Marcia Talley - Dead Man Dancing

‘Sounds like a plan,’ I told him, snatching the menu from his fingers. ‘You get the ice out of the freezer and set up the bar. I’ll take care of ordering dinner.’

Daddy clucked my chin. ‘You just want to make sure I don’t forget the eggplant Parmesan.’

I slapped his face lightly with the menu. ‘Busted!’

After Daddy left with the ice, I made a quick call to Paul’s cell phone asking him to stop by the Macaroni’s on Jennifer Road to pick up our dinner, although it was more than a bit out of his way to do so, then called Macaroni’s and turned cooking our dinner over to them. In less than five minutes, I was back in the family room where I found Daddy presiding over the bar, as instructed. ‘A Bloody Mary for me, please, light on the vodka,’ I said, and lobbed him a pair of limes, which he caught one at a time with his left hand, like a juggler. His bad eyesight was, quite obviously, history.

When the doorbell rang, Bloody Mary in hand, I sang out, ‘I’ll get it!’

I found Hutch standing on the doorstep, carrying Ruth who was still encumbered by her ungainly cast. I had to laugh.

Hutch was beaming. Ruth, too. ‘Over the threshold,’ Hutch said, entering the house, being careful not to bang Ruth’s leg on the door frame.

Ruth giggled like a teenager and kissed him on the mouth. I hadn’t seen her so bubbly since her engagement was announced. ‘Honestly, Hannah,’ my sister said as Hutch swept past me, ‘I’m so proud of him I could just about burst.’

And I was proud of her, too. When Hutch entered the Shall We Dance? competition with Melanie, I’d expected jealousy from my sister, but there appeared to be none. Perhaps this was how a childless couple felt when they welcomed the birth of a child via a surrogate mother. Happy to have the child, and grateful to the person who made it all possible.

Hutch installed Ruth on Dad’s favorite red leather BarcaLounger, waited until she got comfortable, then hustled off to fetch her a Martini.

‘Three olives!’ Ruth reminded his departing back, and then turned to smile at me. ‘We’re still pinching ourselves.’

I told her again how amazing I thought Hutch had been.

‘Hutch thinks there was a definite advantage to going on early. The judges didn’t have a lot to compare them to, so they stood out.’

‘Ha-ha! Like the belly dancer who partnered with the guy wrapped around a plush boa constrictor?’ I grinned. ‘Don’t know about you, but I thought that act showed promise.’

‘They were supposed to be Adam and Eve,’ Ruth informed me.

We were still dissecting the competition like bad-mannered judges when Melanie arrived with Chance and Alicia, followed almost immediately by Tom and Laurie, flushed with excitement, and by Eva, looking sophisticated in her brand new Judi-Dench-as-M-style hairdo.

As I was showing everyone to the bedroom where they could put their coats, Laurie pressed a DVD into my hands, introduced herself to Eva and said, ‘Girl, you’re smokin’! Love the hair.’

Even in the darkened hallway, I could see Eva blush. ‘You look pretty hot yourself, Laurie.’

‘Oh, do you like the scarf?’ Laurie fluffed up the bow. ‘It’s Thai silk. Tom had business in Bangkok last year and brought it back for me.’ Laurie ran her hands down her narrow hips, smoothing the peacock blue fabric. ‘And aren’t we glad that Capri pants are back? Thank you, Mary Tyler Moore!’

Underneath her short lambswool jacket Laurie wore a white silk shirt with a plunging V. The toes sticking out of her strappy black heels were painted the same bright blue as her pants. She peeled off her jacket, tossed it on the bed and tripped down the hallway trilling, ‘Tommy! A vodka Martini!’

How she managed to totter up the icy drive from her car to the house in those heels, I’ll never know. And surely Laurie was too young to remember Mary Tyler Moore, but maybe she caught the reruns of The Dick Van Dyke Show on Nick at Night.

I heard Paul’s deep baritone announce, ‘Hello, everyone! Where do you want the food?’ and moved to go out and meet him, but was waylaid by Melanie just entering the bedroom, removing her hat.

Eva, bless her, said, ‘I’ll go help Paul,’ and bustled past.

‘Hi, Hannah. Nice to see you.’ Melanie handed me her coat, so I laid it carefully on the bed. As she stood in front of the mirror repairing the ravages of winter hat hair with her fingers, I congratulated her once again on Friday’s stunning performance, and her footwork in particular. ‘That was all Jay,’ she sniffed. In the mirror, her face crumpled.

‘I called the hospital this morning,’ I told her, ‘but they wouldn’t tell me anything. Is there any word on his condition?’

Looking at me through the mirror, Melanie sucked in her lips, and shook her head. ‘He’s out of intensive care, but they’re still trying to figure out what’s wrong with him.’ She turned around. ‘Kay texted it could be something called GBS. I was afraid to ask. What the hell is that ?’

Since talking with Kay on Saturday, I’d done some research on the Internet, so I explained about Guillaine-Barré Syndrome, its symptoms – weakness and tingling in the legs, muscle pain, respiratory difficulties, dizziness – and its possible side effects. If Jay was suffering from GBS, there was a chance he’d never dance again. But I didn’t tell Melanie that. ‘Is Jay still allowed visitors?’ I asked, hoping to sail into less treacherous waters.

‘I guess so,’ Melanie said, tearing up again.

I grabbed a tissue from the box on the bedside table and handed it to her.

‘But not me,’ she sniffed. ‘I just can’t bear to see him that way.’ She pressed the tissue into the corner of each eye. ‘You know, sick .’

‘I’m sure he’ll be back on his feet very soon,’ I said with more confidence than I felt. I had one-hundred percent faith in the UMMC doctors, nurses and support staff, but they didn’t know everything, and sometimes, as with my mother, even the best isn’t enough.

Melanie looked around the bedroom, spotted the wastepaper basket, and tossed her used tissue into it. ‘Jay is going to choreograph our routines for Shall We Dance? you know.’

‘Hold that thought, Melanie.’

As we walked down the hall to join the party, I was surprised by Eva coming back the other way. She grabbed my arm, pulled me toward the guest bedroom on the street side of the house. ‘You need to see this.’

Thinking my friend had lost her mind, I followed her into the room, instinctively reaching for the light switch.

‘No!’ Eva gently batted my hand away. ‘Keep the light off.’

‘Eva,’ I whispered. ‘What’s gotten into you?’

She dragged me over to the window, and pulled aside one of the linen drapes. ‘Look. There. Across the street.’

Following her instructions, but wishing she’d be more specific, I said, ‘A bunch of parked cars?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘The silver Prius by the corner. There’s a guy in it.’

I squinted into the dark. Sitting behind the wheel was a man with a square head, square chin and no neck, like he’d grown up in a box.

‘That’s Jeremy Dunstan,’ she said.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive. A Prius Hybrid. You know, the answer to the question, What would Jesus drive?’

‘He followed you here?’

‘Evidently. He certainly doesn’t live in the Providence community.’

‘So where does he live?’

‘Admiral Heights, near the stadium. I had Therese look it up in the church records.’

‘I thought you said he was leaving you alone, Eva.’

‘I did, too. Even when I thought I caught sight of him outside of Graul’s Market the other day, I decided it was my imagination.’