Page 393 - Some Dance to Remember

Some Dance to Remember 363

Drop Logan and get a job. He wanted to say: You woke the man in me; don’t
kill the child. Instead, he turned into Mary Tyler Moore, embarrassed at
making a fool of herself: “You know me. Dumb old me. Always making
mountains out of molehills.”
“I do have to leave,” Kick stood up.
“Why?”
“I can’t stay here tonight.”
“Because I opened my big mouth?”
“I hadn’t planned to stay anyway. I promised Logan I’d drive to Bar
Nada.”
“Logan?”
“I want to talk to him,” Kick said. “Like you wanted to talk to me.”
Ryan could not ask what about. “You mean you weren’t going to
spend the night anyway?”
“I thought I told you.”
“Maybe I forgot.” Ryan tested the waters. “You have to leave?”
“I promised.”
“You can’t stay?”
“No.”
“No?” Ryan looked bewildered.
“Don’t worry,” Kick said. “I’m not saying no. I’m saying not now.”
“To me? To me? You’re saying not now?”
Not now was the line, that line, Kick always used to put off kindly the
petulant propositions from strangers on Castro. Ryan had heard him say
it a thousand times. He knew on the street it meant never. He wasn’t sure
what it meant in his own house.
His deference smothered his weak defiance.
He conceded. One more time.
Never underestimate the power of sexual attraction.
Kick was no fool. He pulled Ryan’s hands to his big pecs. “These are
for you,” he said. He draped his own arms over Ryan’s shoulders. “I know
what you’re thinking,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’ll only leave you once.”
“What’s that mean? What’s that really mean?”
“I told you before. When I die.”
“What do you mean die?” He scared Ryan. He sounded like
Charley-Pop.
“I think you’ll live longer than me,” Kick said.
“No,” Ryan said, “you can’t ever die and leave me. Who would hold
me when I lay dying?”
“You don’t need anyone like I need you,” Kick said.

©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
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