Dance Lessons — The Conclusion (a short story)
A married couple faces an inevitable transition
PART 3 OF 3
Mr. Hatfield passed Jim a cup of coffee. “Of course, I’ll deliver the news to Technical. Explain to your boss that we simply can’t go on without you up here.”
“Okay.”
“But the position’s opened up suddenly and it has to be filled. And, well, you seem like the right man for it, Jimmy.”
Hatfield offered to walk him to the elevator, and this time, Jim said yes.
“I don’t know what to say, Mr. Hatfield.”
“Terry. And you can start with thank you.”
“Thank you. Yes, thank you.” He stopped. “Before I leave. Donald Carter. I need to thank him for helping me get the interview.”
Terry averted his eyes. “That won’t be possible.”
“It would only be for a moment. I assure you.”
“Donald’s not with us anymore, Jimmy.”
“But…he was here last week.”
“And he was let go this week.” Hatfield pressed Jim’s shoulder and guided him to the elevator. “It’s the nature of the beast. In one day, out the next. Especially when you get someone an interview by pointing out his part in some of your best work.”
“He said that?”
“I suppose now you’ll deny it, but I knew what I was looking at once I gave you that interview. Don’t worry about Don. He’ll find something else. A better fit, I hope.”
They’d fired Donald. Oh, God. What good was a better salary if the job was temporary? Was Jim supposed to save every extra penny in case he got fired, too? How did one plan for such a thing?
As they walked, Jim asked, “What if it’s a bad fit?”
“Donald’s job isn’t our problem anymore.”
“I mean me. Could I go back to my old job?”
“Nonsense. No way to live life, Jimmy. You make a decision, you live with it.”
They stopped at the elevator. Hatfield pressed the down button and then held out his hand. “I’ll take care of everything. You come straight here in the morning and we’ll get you situated. We’ve just gotten a new account and they expect a stack of ideas.”
Jim put his hands into his pockets. “I can’t.” The words were out before he knew what he was saying.
“Now, listen. Technical will have to get by without you. They’ll understand we need you as soon as possible.”
“I mean I can’t take the job.”
The smile left Hatfield’s face. “Come again?”
The elevator bell rang and the doors opened. Jim lowered his eyes to the floor. “I just can’t. It’s a generous offer. But I can’t.” He stepped into the elevator.
Hatfield stepped into the way of the closing elevator doors. He pushed them and they reopened. “Now, you listen here. This is a good job. A good salary. It’d change your life.”
“I have a wife.”
“Your wife’s life, too.”
“She needs me to have a job.”
“Jimmy, I told you. Nature of the beast. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Good work got you the job. Good work’ll help you keep the job.” The doors closed again, but he pushed them open and stepped back. “Now, come on.”
Jim shook his head and let the doors close. Before Hatfield disappeared from view, he said, “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Hatfield. But I can’t risk it.”
His heart hammered on the ride down. A rapid pounding that continued as he walked past the receptionist, his hand up to please, let him be. His briefcase was on top of his desk. He closed the door and opened the briefcase, took out one of the pieces and his red pen. But he closed the file and shut the briefcase and rested his forehead in his shaking hands.
His heart didn’t seem to slow until he came home and entered the living room. Susan looked up from setting tonight’s dinner on the table and smiled at him. He had to look at her for a moment.
She put down his plate and noticed he hadn’t moved. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Everything’s all right now.”
“Was it Donald? Oh, honey. Did he interrupt you again?”
He waited for better words to come, but they didn’t. “Donald was fired.”
She gave a barely perceptible sharp intake of breath. “I suppose that was inevitable.”
“Inevitable?”
“Well, the way you talk about his writing. It couldn’t have been very good. His ideas, maybe. But we both know that’s not enough. It’s about precision.” She came over and kissed him on the cheek. “That’s why I love you. Everything in place. Everything where I need it to be.”
He didn’t know what to say. The phone rang and he excused himself.
“Hello?”
The voice of a confused young girl said, “May I speak with Mr. Talbot?”
“Speaking.”
“Mr. Talbot, this is Jenny. You had a dance lesson last Friday. You and your wife.”
He covered his mouth. “Oh, that’s right.”
“We can reschedule. I have a lot of openings.”
Numbers flashed through his mind. Days, money, sacrifices. But he stopped them before they attempted to supply a solution that would never exist.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to.”
“Ever?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” A soft sigh. “Well, have a nice night.”
“Jenny, hold on.”
“Yes?”
“Your advertisement. It’s got an extra apostrophe.”
“It does?”
“On the AFFORDABLE RATES section.”
She laughed. “Does that really matter?”
“It matters.”
He put the phone back into its cradle, turned, and saw his wife leaning against the wall, her arms crossed.
“And who was that?”
“Nobody. Nobody important. Just a last-minute correction.”
“Jim, tell me the truth.” She paused. “Are you having an affair?”
There was a moment of silence where he wondered if she was really considering the question, but then she laughed. She crossed the room, wrapped her arms around him, and laid her head against his chest.
“You should see your face,” she said. “The very idea.”
He held her for a long time. Neither one of them said anything. He only knew that when he was with her, he felt like he was home. His dream was for her to have a taste of that same feeling. For him to be worthy and for her to know she was worthy, too.
He saw the radio on the stand by the couch. He turned it on and changed stations until he found a simple song.
He held out his hand. “Come here.”
She raised an eyebrow and took his hand. He didn’t know much about dancing and he had never been any good. The high school lessons hadn’t lasted long. He wasn’t even sure if this was the right way to hold each other. But he brought her left hand out with his, put her right hand on his shoulder, and put his right hand on the bottom of her shoulder blade.
He lifted her hand and she twisted like a natural. A reverse spin brought her back into his arms. That was the first time he had ever managed that move. But with her, it all seemed to fall into place. How could it not? She’d been practicing as long as she’d been alive. It was who she was, who she always would be. Surgery was just a way to help her feel what she already knew.
If they ever had the money.
The song ended and an announcer came on.
“Hang on,” he said. “I’ll get another station.”
“Jim.” She held him in place and brought him close. “We don’t need the music.” She lowered his hand to her hip.
“That’s not where my hand goes.”
She moved his hand to her thigh. “Who cares?”
They made small steps that he didn’t think were really dancing, but did it matter? They had their own rhythm. He felt the rich closeness of their bodies. He ran his hands through her hair.
“Did you really think I was having an affair?”
She chuckled. “Like you’d ever let go of your routine long enough.”
The observation was like a knife in his chest, but it was a good pain. Yes, it was true, but his routine was what made him a good husband. In a few years, the expected raises would be enough to think about other things.
Until then, they had each other.
Until then, just dancing would be enough.
THE END (DAMN GIRL, THAT’S DARK)
