The Dance (54 page)

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Will turned, aiming his cough away from me. I remained silent watching his body convulse with each jolt until finally the raw tear-inducing cough died down.

“Sorry,” he said, his tone laced with embarrassment.

“It’s okay. Would you like some water?”

“No thank you.”

Will’s dark brown eyes looked black as he struggled to meet my gaze. “In July I was diagnosed with Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome. I have AIDS, Bryson.”

All the blood drained from my body as I stumbled back, knocking into the small table.

AIDS?

I’d prepared myself to hear the word cancer. AIDS wasn’t even on my radar. I knew there still wasn’t a cure. Since the disease hadn’t been in the limelight for a long time, I just assumed people weren’t as affected by it as they once were.

AIDS.

Not knowing how to respond, I simply stayed glued to my spot and stared. The longer I looked at Will the frailer he appeared. I wasn’t sure if knowing he was sick changed the way my eyes saw him. When I first saw him I could tell he was thinner but now he seemed skinny, even gaunt. On closer inspection, his once full cheeks were sunken in, his jawbone more prominent, and his skin pale. The strong, handsome young man who had lived such a charmed life had been replaced by this fragile stranger.

Will looked lost standing in the middle of the entryway, loneliness radiating off of his body. Regardless of the past, he was still a person. Someone that I cared for and loved at one time. I wrapped my arms around his waist. His body stiffened for a moment before his reluctant arms touched me. Pressing his cheek to the side of my head, his body trembled with quiet sobs.

Keeping my voice steady, I said, “There are a lot of treatments out there now, you know.” I had no idea if what I was saying had any merit. I knew very little about this disease. “People live longer with all the advancements in medicine.”

Will broke the hug and looked down at me. His eyes had a slight hollowed-out appearance and faint dark circles. My gaze moved past his thinning lips, to his boney chin, and down to his neck. Peeking out from under his sweater I noticed a dark reddish purple spot and another just below his right ear.

Will picked up on my stare. “They’re Kaposi sarcoma lesions. I have several more down my back and chest.”

“Cancer?”

“Yeah.”

“Are they treating it?”

He shook his head slowly. “At this point there’s no reason.”

“Why not?”

“The lucky ones live longer when diagnosed early.” He paused and swallowed hard. “Bryson, I’m not one of the lucky ones. Apparently, I’ve been carrying the virus around with me for a while.”

Like an anvil crashing into the head of a poor unaware cartoon character, the realization hit me. I was so wrapped up and concerned with Will having the disease, I never once considered myself.

I dropped my arms and took a step back. “How long?”

Will’s chin drifted down taking his gaze with it.

I forced my body and voice to remain strong as I repeated the question. “Will, look me in the eye and answer my question. How long?”

His dark sorrowful eyes met mine. “You need to be tested.”

“It’s October.” Anger surged through me, causing my body to shake. “You were diagnosed in July. And you waited until now to tell me?!”

Will’s gaze dropped as his shoulders slumped forward. “I flipped out when I got the diagnosis. I’m sorry.” His voice sounded weak and feeble.

Backing away, my hands balled into fists as my jaw clenched. “You swore over and over that you never stuck your dick into anyone else during our marriage.”

“I never cheated on you . . .”

“You did each time you fired up your laptop, went online, and contacted other women.”

He stood in silence, not even attempting an explanation.

“Okay . . . okay . . . I never stuck my dick into any other woman until the end of our marriage. I swear to god that’s the truth.”

A twinge of relief settled in my chest. “By that time we weren’t sleeping together anymore.”

Glancing away, Will ran his tongue over his dry cracked lips. “The day before you asked me for the divorce and I crashed my car into the side of a building. Remember, I came home early and found you at the pool. You’d been drinking and had on my favorite bikini . . .”

My hand shot up in front of me, stopping Will’s trip down memory lane.

A tremor broke through the numbness and consumed me as tears stung behind my eyes. “When did you start hating me so much?”

Taking a step forward, Will choked out. “Bryson, I never hated you.”

“You had unprotected sex with someone else and then came home and fucked me!”

His face contorted in pain. “I’m sorry. There’s no excuse.”

“Who was she?”

His gaze dropped to the floor as if the name was written in the slats of wood.

“Look me in the fucking eye and answer me. You owe me that much.” I gritted out.

Will lifted his head and did as I asked. “It wasn’t just one. They were random women I met.”

“Where?”

Shaking his head, he said,“Different places.”

“Where?!” I screamed.

“Bars and online. I don’t even remember their names.”

My stomach twisted tighter with each of his answers. I was the biggest idiot ever to walk the face of the planet. Each time he said he loved me, each time he said he was working in his office, each time he denied fucking another woman . . . all lies. Over the course of ten years everything out of Will’s mouth was a lie.

All the tears, the doubts, guilt, and blaming myself. Feeling worthless, demeaned, and not desirable. Hour after hour of obsessing over what I could do to save the marriage. And still I worked to take the high road and not hate this lying piece of shit.

“How many?”

“Does it really matter?”

“I am three seconds away from grabbing my chef’s knife and cutting your fucking dick off. How many whores did you fuck?!” I kept my voice low and threatening.

He took in a ragged breath. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

“You slimy motherfucker!” My resolve was shattering. Nausea bubbled into my throat, setting it on fire. I closed my eyes and pushed the heels of my hands into them. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Dropping my hands, I tightly wrapped my arms around me and doubled over as the sobs took over.

Will stepped toward me. “Bryson . . .”

I whipped my head up and glared at him. “Don’t you dare come near me.”

He stopped dead in his tracks.

“I understand it’s a lot to take in and you have every right to freak out.”

“Thank you for being so understanding.” I spit out each venom-laced word. I forced myself to straighten up. “I need to sit down,” I said, walking in the direction of the kitchen.

I jerked back a stool from the breakfast bar and sat. With my elbows on the marble top, I rested my head in my hands. The sound of shoes hitting wood told me Will wasn’t far behind.

In a low husky voice, Will said, “The chances of you being infected are minimal. You were only exposed once.”

“Once is all it takes.” The words came out flat and robotic.

Out the corner of my eye, I saw Will raise a shaky hand and slide something across the counter toward me. “This is my doctor’s card. He’s a specialist and can answer all your questions. I’ll pay for everything.”

Dropping my head between my hands, I looked down at the crisp white card embossed with black lettering. As the card hypnotized me, a faint muffled buzz came from the entryway.

“I’ll get it for you,” Will said.

A few seconds later Will returned with my purse and placed it in front of me. Shoving my hand inside, I felt around for my phone. I needed something from the outside world to invade the walls of this house. My hand flew to my mouth and more sobs gushed out of me as I read the text.

Hart:
FYI-I’m taking you on a date tonight. Meet me at the Charleston Crab House at 6pm? Followed by a meeting in my lap at 9 p.m. I love you.

“Hart.” His name drifted from my lips.

My body shook as I placed the phone down. I was free falling off of a cliff with no sign of stopping. Knowing there was a chance I was infected devastated me. Knowing I’d exposed Hart killed me. He was an incredible and understanding man but even Hart had his limits. I was going to lose him when I’d just found him.

The sound of the chair sliding across the floor snapped me from my thoughts. I glanced over to find Will sitting beside me.

“I ran into Ryan a few months back. He told me you were with someone.”

“He never mentioned seeing you.”

“This Hart . . . wasn’t that the name of the rehab guy in the wheelchair?”

I looked at him through red swollen eyes. “Hart’s the man I love and planned on spending the rest of my life with.”

“I don’t mean to be indelicate but can he . . . I mean, have y’all?”

I bit down hard on my lower lip and just glared at Will.

“Sorry. Y’all used protection, right?”

The irony of my cheating, almost ex-husband asking this question was not lost on me.

“Yes.”

“That’s good. The chances are slim to none that he’s in any danger. But to be on the safe side he should get tested.”

I was physically and emotionally drained. My mind was racing with everything and nothing at all. I felt the touch of Will’s cool hand as he placed it on top of mine. I didn’t pull away.

“Saying this is overwhelming is an understatement. I understand if you never want to see me again. Please know that I’m here for you.” His voice trembled. “Bryson, I’m not asking for forgiveness but I’d sure appreciate the chance to earn it.”

At the moment forgiveness was not an option. With one short sentence Will had flipped my life upside down. A life I’d worked hard to create with the man I was born to spend it with. Looking at Will’s face coated in dried tears and sweat, I saw a shattered human being. A hint of pity nudged its way between the hate and anger. Logic began to break through my mental hysteria. There was nothing I could do to change the past. All I could do was pray for a future that included Hart.

Time had become irrelevant as I stayed planted on the stool paralyzed and lost. I knew what I wanted my next move to be but was clueless as to what it should be. Hart filled every corner of my mind, body, and soul. I needed to feel his calming presence and his strong arms around me. I needed to look in his eyes and see that he was confident we would get through this together. I loved us—our conversations, our teasing, our smiles, our laughter, our touching, our silent moments. I loved everything about us and I couldn’t say goodbye to us.

The clink of ceramic hitting marble startled me out of my head. A green mug of tea came into view. My gaze darted up to Will standing on the other side of the counter. I hadn’t even realized he was still here.

“I thought you might like some tea,” he said.

“Could you pass me the sugar and . . .”

“Milk. Two sugars and a splash of milk. I remembered.” He pushed the mug closer to me and gave me a weak smile.

I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, seeking any semblance of comfort.

Raising the tea to my lips, I said, “How long have I been sitting here?” I took a sip, closing my eyes as the hot liquid coated my raw throat.

“About an hour. I thought you needed the time and I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“I don’t know what to do.” I felt tears forming but I was too exhausted for them to turn into sobs.

“What do you mean?”

“What now? When I get off this stool what do I do next?”

“I told my doctor I was going to tell you today. He said if we needed to talk, he’d be more than happy to see us and do your blood test.”

When you’re first faced with a life-shattering event the mind lapses into temporary insanity. At least you hope it’s temporary. Delusions were a coping mechanism. Like a flour sifter, they allowed only a few grains of the devastation through at a time. Letting the brain get accustomed to a new reality. At the moment, I was convinced that if I stayed on this stool and in my house, my world would remain in one piece. But slowly reality was seeping through the wire mesh forcing my brain to accept the fact that my life was irrevocably altered.