Don’t Let Me Go(67)

“I’m working on that dance for Grace to perform at her school.”

Billy stepped smoothly, aware of being witnessed, into his kitchen. He opened the cupboard and took down two of his own wine glasses. They were hand-blown, insanely fragile, with unique stems, no two quite identical. Syncopated, Billy thought. Syncopated for the more sophisticated.

He carried them back into the living room and set them on the coffee table in front of Jesse, who properly admired them.

“What about a corkscrew?”

Billy felt his face flush red. Right up to that moment, he’d been living the dream. Caught up in that image of “this is my life, and it’s just like everybody else’s life.” Of course he had lovely wine glasses. Who doesn’t, save a barbarian? But he had no corkscrew. So now Jesse knew he never used the glasses.

He didn’t answer the question. But, apparently, he didn’t have to. His red face and his silence had given him away.

“Next best thing,” Jesse said, standing and digging a hand down into his jeans pocket. He was wearing lightly faded blue jeans with a white button-down shirt and a tie. A tie! It made Billy proud that someone would put on a tie to come visit him. “Swiss Army knife.”

“Were you a Boy Scout?”

“How did you know?”

“I was only kidding. Actually.”

“I was, though. I really was a Boy Scout. In fact, I pushed it all the way to Eagle Scout. You?”

Billy laughed. Blushed. “Not nearly. Not even. I wasn’t the scouting type. Camping is not my style. It has bugs.”

“It does indeed,” Jesse said, his words followed by the pop of the cork coming free. He held it up as if it were prize game he’d just shot. “And bears. And mosquito bites itch unmercifully. Tell me about Grace and dancing. In fact, tell me about Grace in general. What’s going on between that girl and her mother?”

“Oh,” Billy said. “That.”

He sat on the couch, a foot or so from Jesse’s knee, and accepted a glass of wine. It stirred something in him to hold the insubstantial glass by its stem. He took a sip of Jesse’s wine, feeling the light warmth of it settle into his stomach. So many memories.

“This is lovely,” he said.

“Glad you like it. Had to make up somehow for my rudeness. Barging in like this with no invitation. And I don’t know what you would normally drink.”

“Water,” Billy said, and it made his guest laugh. “I would normally drink water. For budgetary reasons,” he added, so Jesse would not think he was a barbarian. “So, Grace. Her mom has a drug problem. As best I can figure, she had a couple of years in recovery and then fell off the wagon in a big way.”

“So who takes care of Grace?”

“We all do. Rayleen takes her to school, and Felipe picks her up and walks her home, and then she stays with me until Rayleen gets home from work, and then she’s with Rayleen all evening and all night.”

Billy thought he saw a slight change in his guest on that last sentence, a brief flicker in Jesse’s ever-present smile. Nothing worrisome. More as though a thought had pulled him briefly out of the conversation.

“Mrs. Hinman upstairs even makes clothes for Grace on her sewing machine,” Billy added.

Jesse reached up and loosened his tie slightly.

“That’s unusual,” he said.

“I suppose it is, in a place like this.”

“A place like what?”

“Well. You know.”

“Poor and run-down, you mean? No, I think it’s unusual anywhere. But maybe a little less so in a place like this. The people with the least to give always give the most. Haven’t you noticed that?”

“Hmm,” Billy said, because he did not want to admit that he hadn’t spent enough time around actual human beings to gather many observations.

Mr. Lafferty the Girl Cat sauntered into the room and rubbed against Jesse’s legs. Jesse reached down and scratched the cat behind her ears.

“So these are all you?” Jesse asked.

At first Billy had no idea what Jesse was referring to. Then he realized Jesse was looking at his photos.

“Oh. Yes. That. My past life.”

“What kind of dancing?”

“Oh, you name it. Classical. Tap. Modern. Jazz. Even some ballet.”

“What made you leave it all behind?” Before Billy could even answer, though, Jesse said, “No, sorry. Never mind. Too soon. That’s for about two bottles of wine down the road, isn’t it?”

“If not ten,” Billy said.

They sipped for a few moments in silence. In fact, it was so quiet that Billy was aware of the sound of Mr. Lafferty the Girl Cat’s purring. Meanwhile Billy dove down inside himself, chasing an elusive…something. There was something familiar about this. About Jesse, or drinking wine with Jesse, or the way he loosened his tie. Not that he thought he’d ever met Jesse before. It was not that kind of familiarity. But what kind was it? No matter how hard he chased it, it always managed to turn a corner and disappear, like the name of an actor that’s just at the tip of your tongue.

“So what’s the cat’s name?” Jesse asked, startling him.

Billy wondered if he’d jumped enough to expose his pathologically flimsy nerves.

He laughed. “I’m not sure you even want to know. First, before I tell you that, I have to tell you she’s really not my cat. She’s Grace’s cat. And Grace named her.”