28
On the following Sunday evening, they had their first Lindy Hop class, conveniently just around the corner from her place. They hadn’t seen each other since she dropped him off.
He texted her. She had been to a concert the night before:
Good morning! I hope you had a rockin’ time last night and got home safe. Looking forward to seeing you today! 😘
Her: Hey, good morning! 😊Yes, I got home safe – loved the night ride home. The concert was a lot of fun! Do you want to plan to arrive at five and we’ll have a light supper? Looking forward to seeing you too. 😘
Him: Oh great! Glad you had fun. Yes, sounds good, I’ll see you at 5 … Let me know if I can bring anything 😊😘
Her: Just bring your lovely self. I’m gonna make a salad with some chicken and veg. And have some drinks if we want them.
Looking forward to seeing you too and just bring your lovely self! All was well and tonight they would dance!
It was the kind of evening everyone dreams about all year. Glorious sunshine, not too hot, caressing everything yellow and orange. He wore a short-sleeved button shirt and tan chinos, nicely ironed. He picked up a container of strawberries, she always liked berries. And he got flowers, a bouquet of bursting white daisies. He took an Uber to her place, excited to get there, impatient, wanting to see her face when she saw the flowers and to be kissed in thanks. When he arrived, he caught sight of her in the back, throwing out her garbage. He held the flowers behind his back and tried to read if she was pretending not to see them or if she wasn’t enthused by the idea of receiving them. Was he doing too much again? Was he thinking too much?
“I got you these,” and passed them to her.
She smiled on cue, it looked genuine, he was half relieved. They went up, he followed her to the kitchen and handed her the strawberries. “Oh, thank youuu.” She unwrapped the flowers. “Ohhh, nice, so pretty!” His chest warmed. She clipped off the ends, put them in water and set them on the kitchen table where she had set two places for dinner. “There’s some beer in the fridge.” He took one with practiced calm.
Maybe this evening would be something to remember. They were doing something fun and different. Even a bad dance class is something to remember for a laugh in the years to come. And the flowers, the strawberries, the summer sun, it was a dream.
“I’m a little nervous,” she said.
He cracked the beer open. “Yeah? Hey, we’re just going to check it out and see, whatever, right?”
“I know, I know, I’m totally up for it, it’s just something different, what will it be like, right?”
“That’s part of the fun.”
“Yep. You hungry?”
“Sure am, yep!”
Soon there was salad and chicken on the table.
When they left her place, it seemed to be getting hotter, perhaps the heat escaping the concrete and asphalt after being held down all day. It was just a few minutes. He wiped a film of sweat off his brow with his hand before they entered the old three-story building, which seemed to be multi-purpose workspaces. A hand-drawn sign, “Lindy Hop This Way,” led them to what felt like a church basement. The lesson was set for one hour before the real dance, when the band got started. They were the first students there, of course, having been led by Spencer. Two teachers greeted them. A smooth-skinned, portly man, early 40s, with baggy pants, white shoes and short black hair, carefully parted on the side. The other was a voluminous, charming, graying redhead in her 50s wearing a loud patterned skirt cut above her knobbly knees. On the small stage, a band was setting up and off to the side at the back was a bar with pine stools with ornate backs, circa 1980. Pockets of warm, soft light fell upon the round tables draped with white tablecloths. The dance floor at the centre.
Eva and Spencer sat off to the side and watched, making observant chit-chat as more students trickled in. He told her he loved to dance but had no sense of rhythm, something he felt she should know in advance.
“What’s your sense of rhythm like?” he asked her.
“Mm, I don’t know – probably bad,” she said with a nervous grin.
“I took some salsa classes a while back and could not for the life of me hear what the instructor could hear in terms of the count. I’m just hearing music and he’s counting, starting here, ending there and it all sounded the same to me.”
“Hm.”
Soon there were about twenty students, mostly in their 30s. The instructors called everyone up to form a circle and assured them they would have fun and not to be hard on themselves. They started off with very basic steps, and there was much starting and stopping of music and mandatory rotation of partners. Spencer good-naturedly fumbled his way through each one. It seemed like Eva was doing the same, though he hardly noticed her, needing to concentrate on his feet. He heard a yelp over the music but didn’t think much of it, it kind of sounded like somebody whooping with joy. The music was stopped as usual, then a man’s voice, raised with some alarm said, “Are you okay?” Spencer turned and saw Eva’s knees buckle, or maybe he imagined that, and she was already lying on the ground, a man with a thick dark beard bent over her. Spencer rushed over and knelt beside her, others gathered.
“Eva, what is it?” Her eyes were dark and blank. The bearded man moved around and cushioned her head in his large hands. Then her eyes were slits underneath a knitted brow, trying to filter the light, before they went blank again and her hand which was holding went limp. Spencer bent closer. “What happened? What do you need? Eva. Eva!”
“Get me a cushion,” the bearded man said.
“Call an ambulance,” said a woman’s voice.
“No!” Eva called out, suddenly gripping Spencer’s hand, her eyes tightly closed. “It’s just my back.”
Spencer assured them, “She has back pain. Must have thrown it out.”
Her breathing stuttered.
“Breathe, I need you to breathe, deep breaths,” he told her.
The red-headed instructor leaned down and said quietly. “Maybe it’s best we get an ambulance to come.”
At this Eva opened her eyes fully as if woken abruptly and pushed herself up to sit, stifling a wince. “I’m fine, please don’t. Just help me up, I need to sit.” Spencer and the bearded man and the redhead helped her over to the chairs lining the wall. She sat gingerly with Spencer beside her, holding her hand. The male instructor brought her a glass of water. “Would you like something else to drink?” And strangely added: “They have a full bar.”
Eva sipped the water and then shook her head. “No, it’s fine, thank you.”
“We’ll let you know,” said Spencer, not even understanding what he was saying and gave him a smile which was returned with an odd shrug and a last look at Eva before he went back to resume the lesson. Eva tried to sit straight but winced.
“You threw it out?” Spencer asked.
“I don’t think so. Something. Weird.”
“Weird?”
She didn’t reply but made micro shifts in her torso for about five minutes, sometimes followed by little winces and breathy exhales until she found a tolerable position. After remaining still for ten minutes, she said, “We can go now.” Her voice was weak as ever.
“I’ll call an Uber.”
She nodded. After ordering one, he put out his hand but she waved it off. She got up slowly on her own and they padded directly to the exit. The redhead came over. “I’m so sorry, I hope you’ll feel better and come back soon.”
Eva pushed up a smile against her wan eyes, “Thank you.” Spencer had the impulse to add something more but couldn’t think of anything. Her steps were deliberate and slow but constant. She was the same getting in and out of the Uber and accepted Spencer’s helping hand. As soon as they entered her house, she lay down on the yoga mat, knees up. Spencer got them both a big glass of water, then sat on the couch a few feet from her.
Eva slowly repeated pulling her knees up to her chest, then down again.
“Have you ever had this before?”
“No.”
He waited for her to continue. Finally, she said, “I didn’t throw it out, it’s not like that.”
“Hm. You want me to massage it?”
“No, but can you look at it?” Slowly she rolled on her side and lifted her shirt to expose her low back. She palpated it lightly to the right of her spine. “See anything there?”
He looked closely and ran the tips of his fingers over the spot. “Here?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t see anything strange. Looks normal. What are you feeling?”
“It hurts!”
“What kind of pain? Burning? Stabbing?”
She rolled onto her back again. “Aching, I guess, I don’t know. This whole area.” She drew a circle around her abdomen. “But that spot is the centre.” She sighed. “Thank you for caring for me while I feel poorly.” It sounded like she was quoting someone.
“It’s okay, of course.”
“Yeah. I’ll be fine, you don’t have to stay.”
“Why don’t I? I can stay on the couch.”
She sat up. “Nope, it’s fine. I’m going to lie on my bed and I’ll probably sleep.” She got up slowly and went to the bathroom. Spencer refilled her water and put it beside her bed, turning on the bedside lamp. She smiled at him half-heartedly as she shuffled into the room. “I’m good,” she reassured. She doubled the pillow and lay down carefully and exhaled with her eyes closed. She then picked up her book and held it beside her to indicate this was the next thing she’d do after he left. “Can you get me my phone? I have to turn the alarm on.”
“What for?”
“Blood test in the morning.”
He went and got her phone from beside the yoga mat. He shrugged at her, not knowing what else to do. “Okay, call me if anything, okay? I can be here in twenty minutes.” He kissed her curly top.
“Thank you.”
On his exit, he saw the daisies at the other end of the apartment on the kitchen table, white and bright, happy as ever, oblivious.
It was half-dark, warm but breezy as he made his way up the street to catch the bus. The tree limbs of lit gardens seemed to wave at him as he progressed. He wanted a drink. Only now did he start feeling the shock of seeing Eva collapsed, her pupils blackened over like dark wells. His first thought had been a heart attack, only because that was the first thing he thought of when anyone over 50 went down. She had said it was weird, something she’d never had. Images linked from one to the other: Her dark pee flushing down the toilet came to mind, a rash, Candy and Miranda in prison, Eva sucking in a panicked breath as she felt the plane lose power and become dead weight.
He turned the corner onto Broadway, everything well lit by street lamps and business signage. Some restaurants had late-evening diners at low-lit tables, and drinkers rowed up on stools, TV screens with baseball. A drink, yes, tempting, but hunkering onto a stool in an old-man TV bar was never his thing, especially now when his nerves wanted to run wild. He walked at a brisk pace, not wanting to get on the bus, determined for something.
Then there it was, the Rev bar, active inside, a few people outside, having a smoke, dressed in jeans, t-shirts, a woman in her late 40s with a black skirt and heavy eyeliner. Spencer drifted by slowly, casting a look through the window, then strode inside to at least have that drink he wanted.
“Are you just getting a drink?” the pink-haired pixie at the door asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But yeah, a drink for sure.”
She looked beyond him, trying to see if she’d missed who else he was with.
“Okay, go ahead,” she motioned at the bar.
No cover, nice. Did she pity him? He took one of the two available seats at the bar, ordered a vodka tonic and paid for it right away. The Pointer Sisters, Jump, pulsed from the back. The dance floor lights bounced in the front windows. He put away half his drink in one satisfying draw. The bartender knew what she was doing, the glass jammed full of ice with fresh cut limes. Everyone at the bar was over forty, and a third of them were women with other men, except for a pair of early forty-somethings. The one with straight bleached blond hair past her shoulders measured him briefly. He could hardly believe it. Should he ask them to dance? Both of them? Don’t be crazy! But crazy felt attractive. You Dropped the Bomb on Me was next and the funk got inside him. He drained his glass and shut off his brain. But wait- He walked straight for the pulsing lights at the back, pretending he’d done it a hundred times. The pack of bodies throbbed as shards of coloured light rippled over them and then him as well. He skirted right randomly and then slipped onto the floor at the first tiny opening, bending his knees, bobbing and wedging to the centre, grooving to thunderous quake, aligning with his need. His arms floated instinctively overhead, swaying like treetops, his shoulders following suit. Groovin!
Next up was Bizarre Love Triangle and something seemed to shake loose and leave a space to feel good in a new way, a way that had to do with tomorrow and next week, the stretch of possibility and alternatives. Maybe he should end things with Eva. And then he saw her collapsed and hated himself, scolding. The poor woman isn’t well, she has some awful disease and all you can think about is your own feelings to get high on booze and music and dance like a fool while there she is laying there in bed, fading, maybe to nothing! And if there was something alive there in the morning, he was thinking of cutting ties with it. What the fuck is wrong with you? Halfway through the next song, he left and walked the entire distance home, about thirty minutes.
The next morning he texted:
How are you feeling?
Her: Good, I’m fine, just old😅
Him: Good to hear. We’re still in the game!😘
A couple hours later she texted:
I came home to the pretty flowers you brought me yesterday. I appreciate how thoughtful and generous you are. It’s one of the many things I like about you 🤗😘
Him: You make it easy, Eva… because of who you are. ❤️
That evening she texted a picture of a salad she made with strawberries he’d brought the night before.
Her: Thanks for the strawberries 🍓
Him:😍
The next morning Eva texted:
In case the weather is bad or you don’t want to cycle, here’s the bus info.
It was a link to the bus schedule to get to Whistler and the address. Taking the bus felt humiliating. He imagined himself in Rupert and Jasmine’s ten million dollar cottage being asked how the bus ride was. Cycling there on the Sea to Sky trail, on the other hand, would garner some respect but the entire distance was seven hours. He could do it, but it was a bit much.