Don’t Let Me Go(87)

“But you never answered me, Billy.”

“I did, actually,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder the way Jesse always did for him. “But maybe you were asleep by then. How did you even know to call it that if you didn’t hear it from me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I heard it somewhere, but I think that’s just what it feels like. It’s like I was just walking down the street and looking at this block like every day, because I lived here every day of my life, and then all of a sudden I thought how I might never see it again after next month, and then I got all panic-like and couldn’t breathe.”

“I’m going to help you erase it.”

“How? I can’t dance out here on the sidewalk.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I don’t have my shoes!” she shouted, and a man watering his hedges turned to stare at them.

“So? You don’t think there’s any other type of dance besides tap? There’s all manner of dancing, Grace. I’ll show you a couple of new dance steps and you can dance all the way to school.”

“People will stare at me.”

“So? Let them stare.”

“Will you dance with me?”

Billy swallowed hard. Oh dear God, he thought. People will stare at me.

He looked over to see Jesse watching him, waiting for his answer.

“Yes. I will. Now let’s get started. I’m going to show you a really basic Latin salsa move. You just do it on a six-count. One, two, three…four, five six.” He stepped his feet forward and back in an exaggerated motion, bucked his torso back at the end, swung his bent arms in a Latin rhythm. “Don’t forget to use plenty of arms with this. Try it.”

Grace copied his moves, counting it out under her breath.

“Arms,” Billy said.

“Right. Arms.”

“Smile,” Billy said.

“Right. Smile. OK, so how long do I stand here in the street doing this?”

“Don’t be a smartass,” Billy said, still synchronizing the step with her. “I’m getting there. Now, all you have to do is take very long steps forward and very short steps backward. And we’ll be moving.”

And then they were moving.

They salsa-danced slowly along the front yard of the man still watering his hedge. He had stopped to watch them, an arc of water from his hose flying off into nowhere. As they reached the far edge of his property line, he held the hose in the crook of his elbow and clapped for them.

“Muy bonita!” he called, sounding not the least bit sarcastic. “Miradas buenas!”

Billy could tell the phrases were compliments, but was curious to know specifically which ones.

“What did he say?” Billy whispered down to Grace.

“Well…bonita means pretty. And bueno—”

“Bueno I know. See? He’s not laughing at us. He likes it. Your first applause.”

“Rayleen applauds for me. And the county lady did, too.”

“Your first public applause. How does it feel?”

“Weird. Weirder than I thought it would. I guess I didn’t picture I’d be salsa-dancing down the street at the time.”

About a block later, Billy glanced over his shoulder. Rayleen and Jesse were walking side by side behind them, about ten steps back.

They were holding hands.

? ? ?

It was after six, not long after Grace had gone to Rayleen’s for the night, when Yolanda appeared at Billy’s door.

He opened wide and invited her in, even though she scared him.

He took the coffee pot from her and walked it to his sink, blankly pondering how many times he would have to wash it before he could forgive it for having spent time in that filthy, horrible apartment.

When he got back to the living room, Yolanda was sitting on his couch, petting the cat.

“So this is Grace’s cat, huh? I sure keep getting an earful about this cat. From both sides. So let me not waste your time. It’s like this. I got no idea. She’s walking and talking, and she says she didn’t use while I was at work, because she couldn’t, because I found all her stashes. So I don’t know. Maybe tomorrow she’ll get sick of being clean, or the day after, and she’ll find a way. Or maybe I got through to her with what I said about Grace, how Grace was about to get thrown into the system. That was the main point, I guess, at least for right now, to clean her up enough to tell her that. But I doubt it’ll do the trick, and I’ll tell you why not.”

In the pause that followed, Billy sat on the very edge of the other end of the sofa, his face feeling bloodless and cold.

“It’s because she doesn’t think that would be any worse,” Yolanda said. “She thinks you guys are the devil, and whoever they give Grace to in foster care would be a better deal than what she’s got now.”

Billy noticed Yolanda chewed gum with a snapping motion. An irritating habit in his opinion.

He tested his voice by clearing his throat.

“But we adore Grace,” he said quietly, and it — his voice — worked fairly well. “And she loves us. And she’s thriving here.”

“Addict logic,” Yolanda said, not missing a beat. “Life viewed through resentment. It’s possible it’s still mostly the drugs talking, and a couple days down the road we’ll hear from the real Eileen. You know, I sponsored her for over two years, and she had good recovery. There’s a reasonable person in there someplace. It’s just been a while since I got to see it.”