The Man I Love (The Fish Tales, #1)(36)

“Two weeks until the concert,” she said. “This is going to be tight.”

Erik rinsed lather off the blade. “I take it Will can’t sub for James.”

“No. He needs to focus on Powaqqatsi.”

“Did you talk to Marie yet?” he said, looking a little cross-eyed in the mirror, upper lip pulled taut over his teeth.

“Not yet, I’m too upset. I don’t want to go in screaming and crying like a diva. It’ll only make her more nervous and she’ll pair me up with… I can’t even think who she’d pick. I need to bring her a solution, not a problem.” Daisy drummed her fingernails on the rim of the tub. “I think I’m going to teach John Quillis the part. On my own.”

“Who’s he?”

“He’s a sophomore. I’ve had him in partnering class a few times and he’s decent. And smart. He’s like James—he picks up choreography fast and retains it.” She looked up at Erik then. A bit of green was back in her eyes, and her smile was mischievous. “And he’s just slightly crushy on me, so I think he’ll take direction well. You know?”

“I know nothing about being crushy on you or taking direction,” Erik said, toweling off his face. Looking up in the mirror he saw Daisy smiling at him. “What?” he said to her reflection.

“I love this,” she said. “I miss Lucky but I love having you here all the time. And it’s not just sleeping together every night. It’s little moments in the bathroom and the kitchen. Being a couple. And being able to talk to you about anything. I love it.”

This is my life, Erik thought, gazing back at her.

Will and James were still carrying on, or whatever you wanted to call it. Erik had chosen the path of least resistance and simply removed his face from the affair. Now most of his clothes were in Daisy’s drawers and closet. His toothbrush was next to hers on the sink. They were together all the time. Not just making love at every opportunity but making a life. Entrenched in each other’s daily business: food shopping, clothes folding, dish washing, cracking the bathroom door and handing a roll of toilet paper in.

Last night in bed, she had given him his birthday present. It was a new charm to hang on his necklace: a tiny pair of gold scissors.

“Sax,” he said, remembering the Swedish word. “This is awesome.”

“Yeah?” She was chewing on her bottom lip, looking uncertain. “I wasn’t sure.”

“Why?” He put the scissors into her hand so he could unclasp the chain behind his neck.

“Because your necklace is such an heirloom. Your history. I felt kind of funny adding to it.”

“Why?” he said again, carefully threading the jump ring of the charm onto the chain.

“I’m not part of your history.”

He looked at her as he fastened the necklace again. “Aren’t you?”

She stared back.

He slid down to his elbow, hovering over her, holding her gaze in his. “You are,” he whispered.

She was his history. And his future. Looking at her now in the bathtub, he toyed with the notion they would have a place together someday. They would be home. Together in ordinary time.



*



Over the weekend, Daisy taught John Quillis James’s role in No Blue Thing. Will helped, generous with tips and tricks, skillfully coaching and guiding John to a higher plane of confidence. If they couldn’t find an empty studio, they practiced in the basement of John’s dorm. As Daisy had observed, he was quick and smart. And slightly smitten. Within four days, he was partnering with a solid competence which Daisy felt would only get stronger. She took her fait accompli to Marie, and John got the green light to dance.

In the meantime, James appealed to the dean and somehow he wangled a reprieve. He had to pass a couple of makeup exams and clock a certain amount of hours at the academic resource center, but he was back in the concert. And behaving himself. Marie made it clear John Quillis was more than ready to understudy if James blew it again. To press the point, she gave John the Sunday matinee performance.

“I gotta say I’m impressed with the kid,” Will said. “Keep practicing with him and you’ll have yourself a nice prince next year.” He ruffled the top of Daisy’s head and then his hand grew still. He looked down at her and his eyes misted.

“Oh no,” Daisy said, knocking his hand away. “Absolutely not, William, don’t you dare start bawling.”

“Just a little bawl?”

“No. I am too tired.”

She was exhausted. It came as no surprise to Erik when she said she wanted to go home for a weekend before technical rehearsals started.

“I need my mother,” she said, putting clothes and a toothbrush in a bag.

“Go get coddled. Sleep all day. Everything’s going to be all right.” He kissed her goodbye and watched her drive down Jay Street. No sooner had the car turned the corner when a cloud seemed to pass in front of the sun and the world was a slightly less pleasant place to be.

Erik walked through the backyards into his kitchen. Will was sitting at the small table, a mug between his hands and a cigarette burning in the ashtray.

“Water’s hot,” he said.

Erik made himself tea. He leaned back against the sink, blowing across the surface and watching Will stare out the window. This was not Will’s usual meditative staring, but a morose and troubled reflection.