Dance With Me (39 page)

She didn't look like she believed him, but she nodded. “Still. I shouldn't have asked you to reach for anything, and I'm sorry. The last thing I want is for you to get back into all that trouble again.”

“
Mom
,” Ed said, exasperated.

She waved a hand. “I know, I know. Stop fussing. Well, tell me something good, then. Any news on a new job?”

Ed was fishing for a neutral answer and wishing he'd have just stayed home and ordered pizza when his father said from the door, “Annette, stop badgering the boy.” He jerked his head at the hall. “You go lay an extra plate for dinner, and we'll clean this up in here.”

Annette gave Ed one last look of concern, then kissed both him and her husband on the cheek. “All right,” she said and disappeared into the hall.

Dick patted Ed on the arm, then groaned as he got down on his knees and started piling up the once-folded clothes strewn all over the closet floor. “Come on then. Your bones are younger than mine. Get down here and help an old man.”

“You're not old,” Ed said, kneeling carefully beside him. “You're only sixty-four.”

“Well, I've got the body of an eighty-year-old, feels like.” Dick nodded to the plastic bag, now almost empty. Ed passed it over without being asked and held it open as his father halfheartedly folded a faded polo and put it inside. “Mother wants these to go to the church auction. She wants to go through the upstairs too.”

“I'll come and help tomorrow,” Ed said, putting the bag down and reaching for some clothes to fold himself.

Dick nodded. “That'd be welcome.” He paused. “So long as you're up to it.”

Ed paused too. His mother's concern had made him indignant, but his father's made him feel hollow. “I am,” he said and put a pair of folded slacks in the bag.

His father nodded again. “Good. Good. Maybe Laurie can come too.”

Ed nodded, then stopped. Without thinking, he reached up to his neck, pushing down on the tender muscle. He caught his father watching him, met his eye for a moment, then turned away, lowering his hand.

“So,” Dick said, with exaggerated care. “You and the boy are moving in together, are you?”

Ed tried to hide his grimace. “I guess so.”

“Need any help?”

Ed shook his head. “Laurie insisted on hiring movers. Said he doesn't do heavy lifting. And said I shouldn't either.” He sighed and sank back against the wall. “I don't know, Dad.”

His father looked up at him. “Second thoughts? But I thought you and Laurie did so well together.”

“We do,” Ed said quickly. “It's not that. It's just—damn it, Dad. He keeps trying to take care of me.”

Dick paused with a load of neckties in his hand and looked up at Ed. “That's what we do for people we love, son.”

“But Dad. I mean, he wants to pay for everything! I know he has the money, but God, I'm already a mess because of my neck. And now I'm unemployed. And he wants to keep me, like I'm some big loser who can't do anything!”

His dad put the wad of ties into the top of the bag and rose, groaning a little as he made his way up from his knees. Ed reached for the bag, but his dad's hand came out and caught his arm, staying him.

“I got this old man's body,” his dad said quietly, still holding on to Ed's arm, “by abusing it for thirty years. They told me a long time ago to stop lifting things, but I took turns being too obstinate and too proud to listen. I wouldn't let friends help. Wouldn't let your mother help. Wouldn't listen to her when she begged me to get a different job. Ignored her when she said she didn't care about the money, that we'd make do. I had my pride, I thought. And I clung to it. You know what that bought me, son?” His eyes went hard, and he gestured across the room to the top of his dresser. “What I've got for that is a permanent backache and an industrial-sized bottle of Aleve that frankly don't do me much good.” His hand tightened briefly on Ed's arm. “If you need to slow down, you slow down. If you need to let someone help you, if someone is offering, you let them. And if you got to swallow your pride to do it, Ed—then you swallow. You swallow hard, boy. Because I want better for you than I got. It's too late for me. It isn't for you.”

Ed stared down at the black garbage bag full of clothes. The tremors from earlier were gone, but damn if he didn't feel shaky all over again. He cleared his throat. “I don't like it, Dad.”

His dad laughed. “Oh hell no, you won't like it. Not now, anyway. But you'll learn, son. You'll learn.”

“Boys!” Annette called from the kitchen. “Dinner's ready!”

For a minute, neither of them moved. But eventually Dick sighed and patted Ed on the back. “Come on, son,” he said, turning for the door.

Ed waited until his dad was in the hall before he moved. With one eye on the door, he reached up and touched his neck tentatively. He held his breath a little as he tilted his head first to one side, then another, then, emboldened, did a small rotation.

He thought of Laurie doing the shopping and the cooking for him.

He thought of Laurie paying for everything.

He thought of cleaning out a closet like this someday with Laurie, of sorting through clothes and odds and ends and things they'd collected together through their lives.

He gave a small sigh and headed for the hall as well, though his hand stayed at his neck, massaging the cord of muscle absently until he came to the kitchen, where he quickly lowered his hand and pasted on a wide, cheerful smile.

When the day finally came to have dinner with his parents and Oliver, Laurie was so worked up he thought he might explode.

They headed over in Laurie's car, but Laurie was nervous, and Ed picked up on it and offered to drive. Halfway across town, Ed reached over and slid his hand over Laurie's thigh before claiming his hand.

“We don't have to do this,” he said.

“We do. Just please don't take my mother personally. She really does mean well.” He sighed and sank deeper into the seat, but his hand tightened on Ed's. “Though it might help that Oliver is there.” He bit his lip. “Or make it worse.”

Ed squeezed again. “Want to turn around?”

Laurie squeezed back. “No.”

Oliver was already there when they arrived, and he greeted them on the porch.

“Your mother is in the kitchen, slamming around her china. She's already broken three plates.” He said this casually, though, and winked when Laurie blanched. “It will be fine, boy. Why don't the two of you come inside? It's brittle cold out there.”

Laurie was pretty sure it was colder in the kitchen, but he came in anyway, tugging Ed along behind him. “Is the donor here?”

Oliver had moved too far away, though, so Laurie was left to look around on his own. He saw Christopher and his own father, and he heard his mother in the kitchen. No one else was there yet.

Ed was quiet. His head was turning around constantly as he took everything in. He hadn't seemed upset in the car, and he wasn't now, but he did have a decided deer-in-the-headlights look about him. Laurie thought of the eight million ways this could all go bad, and he considered, quite seriously, grabbing Ed's hand and pulling him back out the door again.

But Oliver had taken their coats, and now they were all heading to the den, where Laurie's father and Oliver's partner were sitting in a pair of easy chairs, not talking to one another. Albert Parker was reading the paper, and Christopher was studying his fingernails, but when his partner came in, he smiled and reached over the back of his chair to slide his hand up his leg as Oliver came forward. He rose, too, and shook Ed's hand warmly as the two of them were introduced. Laurie had hung back through this, but when Oliver gave him a look, he hurried forward to do the same for Ed and his father. Though he only managed to open his mouth before Albert rose on his own and stared at Ed with astonishment.

“Maurer. You're Ed Maurer. You played for the Lumberjacks!”

Now it was Laurie who was staring, dumbfounded. “You...you know him?”

“Know him! Hell, no. But I was there when he went down. Jesus, I can't believe you're standing here in front of me.” He stuck out his hand. “Al Parker.”

Ed, surprised too but recovering quicker than Laurie, shook Al's hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“I only get to games occasionally, but I love to watch football. Always have. Went to yours with an old business associate who got us right on the fifty-yard line. You play mean, boy. If I remember, you even tried to get up and play before they tied you back onto that stretcher!” Laurie's father chuckled and patted Ed enthusiastically on the back. He looked as if he'd opened a fortune cookie and found a hundred dollar bill instead of the trite advice he'd been expecting. “Long drive over here from the city, and it's cold. You'll want something to drink, I expect. Let's go raid my cabinet.”

Ed glanced at Laurie, who was still staring. Al tugged on him, and Ed gave a bemused smile and wave before disappearing down the hall toward the study.

Laurie turned back to Oliver, blinking.

Oliver laughed and settled down beside Christopher. “That's one down.”

Laurie felt oddly betrayed but tried to shake it off. “Where is the donor, Oliver?” he asked instead.

Oliver's smile was strained. “It's just us today, actually.” He looked sheepish. “Christopher and I are the donors, if anything. Mostly I wanted you to make peace with your mother.”

Laurie stared at him for a long second. “You set me up?”

Christopher leaned forward and offered a glass of wine to Laurie. “Have a drink, hon.”

Laurie drank, but he fumed too. A setup. No donor at all, just a setup by Oliver. He said nothing, just drank one glass of wine, and then another.

He didn't see Ed again until his mother called them to the table, which was also the first time he saw her. She had on her extra-polite face. She didn't look as if she were eager to make up either.

Laurie's father was still chatting Ed up as they came into the dining room. Why Laurie was so surprised they'd gotten along, he couldn't say. He supposed he had known that his father liked sports. That was who his father was. The man who read the newspaper, watched sports, and drove the car to dance rehearsal. The man who had never outright shown Laurie his dislike for what he did and even who he was, but who had never embraced him either. Literally. Laurie shook his hand whenever he left the house, and he thought the last time he'd received a hug was when he'd left for resident dance school. Even that had been awkward and forced by his mother.

Now here was Al Parker, bright-eyed and engaged in a way that was almost frightening to Laurie, it was so foreign. He was reliving famous football plays with Ed, apparently, and he couldn't be sure, but he thought he'd heard them making plans to watch the Super Bowl together. Strangest of all, and to his surprise, most painful, was to see the way his father touched Ed. Oh, it was casual. Occasional. But it was there, and it was deliberate. Al was enjoying his houseguest for a change, and in a way Laurie wasn't sure he ever had before. But then, when had they ever had a sports figure of any stamp for dinner, let alone one who had performed a heroic feat like nearly becoming a quadriplegic?

They sat down to eat. His mother was trying to bait him to anger, asking pointed questions about the center and his job and wanting to know how Maggie had taken the news, but he gave her short, flat replies, too busy watching Ed and his father to let her engage him. Light. There was actually light in his father's eyes, and Laurie was obsessed with it. His disinterested, wet noodle of a father wasn't a wet noodle right now. He liked Ed. He liked Ed a great deal, and all he knew about him was that he played football. And when Laurie's mother tried to turn the discussion onto Ed, to ask him about his work and make him feel bad for being unemployed, Al embraced this too. Joked about the office environment and all the “damn politics,” like the two of them were the only ones in a club together. And yet this served only to upset Laurie all the more.

Did his father not realize that this was not Laurie's friend come home from school? That Ed was his boyfriend? His gay boyfriend? He wanted to say, “You know, Dad, I let him fuck me up the ass, and he sucks my cock too. Sometimes we suck each other's cocks at the same time. Were you aware of this?”

But no. His father knew Ed was his boyfriend. His mother would have made sure of that. Which meant it had never been, as Laurie had always quietly assumed, his orientation his father had a problem with.

It was just his masculinity—or lack of it.

“So have you come to your senses and decided you will perform for the benefit?” Caroline asked, and before Laurie could spit a “no” at her, Ed cut off Al and spoke for Laurie, beaming.

“Yeah, we are,” Ed said. “So far I think we're doing a tango, but I'm hoping to talk him into doing a few other dances too.”

“We?” Caroline repeated, ice dripping from her voice.

Ed frowned at her, looking confused. “Yeah, we. Laurie and I. For the benefit show for Halcyon Center.”

Oliver and Laurie winced in unison as Caroline repeated, “Halcyon Center?”

Ed looked wary now. “Yeah. The benefit Oliver and Laurie are having for Halcyon Center.” He glanced at Oliver and then at Laurie. “Isn't that what you're talking about?”

Caroline let her fork hit the table with a
thud
and turned to Laurie. “You're performing for that
center
, and you won't perform for me?”

Laurie pushed the food around his plate but never brought up his fork.

“I think you should do both, Laur,” Ed said, nudging him gently with his elbow. “What's your mom's benefit for? Is it like ours?”

Laurie swore he could hear the ice hitting the floor around his mother's chair. “The International Children's Benefit Gala, I'm sure, isn't anything like whatever you're doing for the center.”

Ed leaned forward to peer around Laurie at Caroline, bracing his forearms on the table. “So how do we get him to agree to these, Caroline? I keep thinking maybe I can get him to do something with me, but I'd rather watch him do one of his solo dances.”

Across from Laurie, Oliver covered his mouth with his napkin to hide a smile, but his shoulders shook with his chuckle. Christopher just sat back in his chair, enjoying it all. At the other end of the table, Al stopped cutting his ham and glanced at Ed. “You dance too?”