Page 369 - Some Dance to Remember

Some Dance to Remember 339

the body is sick, the normal channels of God’s grace are closed. The sick
can receive actual and sanctifying grace from God only by His holy dis-
pensation. Therefore, remember, all your lives: Mens sana in corpore nano.
Drink no more wine than at mass. Do not smoke, for it is an indulgence
and indulgences are not good for the young.”
Ryan sported the Look of someone who wanted to forget the mumbo-
jumbo of his youth, but could not get over that old black magic. The
priests had unknowingly turned him on sexually. “I can’t help but think
of healthy minds in healthy bodies,” he said. At his worst, he was as corny
as Kansas in August. “It’s Kick Supreme. For once, I’m the moon. He is
the sun. Not my usual role, but I think I like it.”
“As long,” Solly said, “as the sun can keep on shining.”
“You don’t need Kick’s light,” I said. I felt like Radio Station Mag-
nus Bishop broadcasting small-craft warnings on the Bay. “You’re bright
enough to know that.” I wanted to tell him that he was dissembling, that
dissembling was ultimately dishonest mendacity; but at that early time
there was already a madness in him, and I carried no weight against Ryan’s
joy in Kick’s happy acceptance of his total deference.

12

That Christmas night, Ryan drove home alone, without Jake, from
Solly’s. Help me make it through the night. Kweenie had left a message on
his machine. “Happy! Happy!” she said. “Catch you tomorrow.” He sat
alone in his dark Victorian. He gasped for air.
It was Ondine’s curse.
“Gemini is an air sign,” Tony Tavarossi had told him. “You’re forever
opening windows wanting more oxygen.”
Ryan had all the doubts of a believer. “Maybe,” he said, “it’s more like
the air is too thin on this forbidden planet.”
Accidentally, that Christmas night, he made a sad discovery. He
opened the refrigerator and found a brown paper sack. He wondered
what it was. He thought it might spoil. He pulled open the bag. Inside
were four syringes, a dozen hypodermic needles, and four small bottles of
Decadurobolin. It had taken his breath away. The difference between the
oral steroid he knew Kick had taken and the injectable Decadurobolin was
the difference between venial and mortal sin.
All was lost.
Aren’t we a pair! They had both lied. In their little night music, they
were so Sondheim: one on the ground, one in midair. He had shown to Kick

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