Moving in Rhythm (8 page)

Mark’s days developed a new rhythm. He hit the gym early to avoid the crowds and ran with Belle or took her to the dog park during Lisa’s afternoon lesson hours. In between he puttered around the house, teaching his classes and feeding and caring for Lisa and Belle. He finished his stack of books and went back for more. Claire sometimes called to check in, Pete sent emails, the occasional student sent him a question and he and Seth exchanged a constant flow of words across the internet. Twice they waved to each other from across the dog park.

Then one day after lunch he read, Hi. I’ll be in rehearsals until ten or so but I’ll be up a long time after that. Never can settle right down. Call me if you want. If that’s not going to work, don’t worry about it.

And the number.
Call me
. Like, talk.

Mark’s pulse raced. Sweat broke out across his forehead. He stared at the screen, the numbers tumbling into his brain. He lay down on his bed, letting the fear wash through him in waves. Damn, he was a mess.

A wet nose nudged his hand. Belle leaped onto the bed beside him. She folded herself against him, head on his thigh, and gazed up adoringly. If only every relationship could be this easy. Mark buried his hand in Belle’s fur and stared at the ceiling.

At 10:01 he fished out his cell phone. At 10:09 he programmed Seth’s number from memory into his pathetically small contact list. At 10:13 he brought the number up on his screen and then hung up. At 10:16 Mark finally took a deep breath, held his phone firmly, brought Seth’s number onto the screen and pushed Send.

It rang twice. Mark’s thumb hovered over the End button when he suddenly heard Seth’s voice. “Hello?”

Mark closed his eyes.

Seth’s voice again, gentle and warm. “Mark, is that you?”

Mark exhaled, willing his heart to slow. “Yeah. Um, hi.”

“Wow, you called. That’s great.” Seth sounded happy.

Mark blinked at the ceiling. The sweat on his forehead started to cool.

“I loved your last email,” Seth went on. “Thanks for sending the picture of Belle. I tried to get Freddie to pay attention to the screen but I think he’s not a computer guy.”

Mark smiled in spite of himself. “Computers aren’t really a dog thing.” There was a pause. The number on the bedside clock turned over. Mark asked, “How was rehearsal?”

“There are still a few rough spots. We open in two weeks and it’s hard to imagine we’ll be ready. But then it always is.”

Mark let the timber of Seth’s voice settle into him like a massaging hand, working out his tension and fear. He wanted him to keep talking forever.

“The problem isn’t the kids. They’re cute no matter what. It’s a couple of the adults, particularly the high school dance teacher. I don’t think she’s practicing outside of rehearsal and it’s frustrating, particularly in the piece we do together. I mean, I get that she doesn’t have time but I can’t do it on my own.” Seth paused.

“That sounds difficult,” Mark lobbed into the silence. He didn’t want him to stop. His voice felt too good.

Seth sighed. “It is. Maybe it won’t look so bad to the audience. Speaking of which, will you come?”

Mark’s heart rate jumped again. “Uh, uh…” he stuttered.

Seth rushed on. “Think about it, okay? I’d love to have you there. I’ll leave comp tickets for you and Lisa for opening night. Claire too, and Kate if she’s home. I think she’s scheduled to come home next week but it’s never…” He trailed off.

Mark cleared his throat. He had to get past this. He was being an idiot.

“Look,” Seth continued, “we wouldn’t need to talk or anything while you’re there.”

Mark clenched Belle’s ruff with a sweaty hand. “Thanks,” he blurted. “That would be nice. I’d like to see you dance.”

“Great,” Seth gushed. “That’s great. I’m so glad.”

Another pause in the conversation. Next time maybe Mark could make a list of questions he could ask to keep things going so Seth wouldn’t notice how his brain froze.

Seth cleared his throat. “Um, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” As long as it can be answered monosyllabically.

“This, um, problem you have. It’s only with other gay guys?” Seth asked tentatively.

Mark swallowed. He stared at the ceiling, willing himself to speak. “Um, yeah.”

“All gay guys?”

Mark thought of James at the clinic. No nervousness there. “No.”

“Only me?” Seth laughed nervously.

Belle shifted and Mark realized how tightly he’d been clutching the poor dog’s fur. He spread his fingers and drew a breath. This was something anyone would be anxious about, right? “Uh, well, at the moment you’re about it. I only get…um…this way around men I’m, um, men I find, uh,” he floundered, feeling utterly ridiculous.

“In that case I’m flattered.” Seth’s voice was very gentle.

“Flattered but…” He closed his eyes and waited.

“No, just flattered,” he said warmly.

Mark didn’t know what to say. He should follow up with something more, but nothing came to mind. He glanced at Belle as if she might help him out. She didn’t look up. “So does that mean you’ve never been with a guy?”

The question took Mark by surprise. He grunted. “No, I have. I mean, not a lot but I have.”

Seth laughed. “With men you weren’t attracted to? That sounds unpleasant.”

Mark snorted. “Oh, I was attracted to them. But we didn’t talk much.”

“Oh.” There was a long silence. Mark focused on a lavender daisy in Lisa’s floral-patterned wallpaper, hoping for courage.

Finally he cleared his throat. “So what are you going to do about the high school dance teacher?”

Seth laughed. “I suppose homicide isn’t an option?” And the conversation veered onto safer ground.

* * *

It rained hard early the next week. Mark and Belle paced the house, darting out for short walks but not venturing into the torrential downpours for long. Wednesday dawned clear and Belle watched impatiently as Mark hurried through his morning’s work. Lisa lounged on the couch reading. She smiled when Mark deposited a sandwich beside her.

Mark pocketed his own sandwich and announced, “We’re off to the dog park. Call if you need anything.”

She nodded and returned to her reading.

Belle flew out the door like a prisoner on furlough. She sniffed her favorite shrub, squatted to pee and galumphed in circles while Mark laced his running shoes. “Dog park” was evidently on her vocabulary list, probably right next to biscuit and of far more emotional resonance than “come,” “sit” or “stay.”

Mark dropped into a warm-up lunge. “Don’t tire yourself out. It’s a long run there.”

Belle pawed at the ground and barked. Clearly she was ready to go.

He laughed, stretched his other leg and began loping toward the park. Belle trotted ahead, finally falling in behind him as he got up to speed. After two days of confinement Mark reveled in the smell of damp earth and the slap of pavement beneath his feet. The day was warmer than he’d expected. After a few blocks he slipped off his jacket and tied it around his waist.

The dog park was crowded and muddy. No doubt Belle would have a date with the garden hose before the day was out. But the sheer joy with which she leaped away to join the pack made Mark smile. He went through his post-run stretching routine, then plopped himself onto a bench, inhaling the scent of wet earth and pine. He stretched out his legs, relishing the warmth of the sun on his thighs. His sweat began to cool and he was shrugging back into his jacket when his phone rang.

His arm caught in the sleeve and by the time he found the phone it was about to go to voicemail. Without glancing at the caller ID, he flipped it open. “Lisa?”

“Not exactly.” Seth’s voice sent a shock of excitement through him.

“Oh, hey,” he managed to stutter.

“Hi. Nice dance with the jacket.”

“What? Where are you?” Mark looked around the park.

Seth waved to him from the farthest of the four park benches.

He waved back. “Oh, hi.”

Seth patted the greyhound beside him. “Freddie and I don’t have long this afternoon. We have a bunch of errands to run before class. But it’s such a beautiful day we had to stop by.”

Mark leaned back against the bench and looked at Seth. He couldn’t make out his expression from a distance but he looked relaxed, or at least more relaxed than his dog. “Class?”

“Yeah.” Freddie started and Seth leaned forward to stroke his neck. “I teach high school kids at the local dance academy. It’s not a bad job. Every afternoon for a few hours. Of course, it doesn’t quite pay the rent, hence my Zumba mornings.”

“At least you get to move while you work. Sitting at a computer all day has its disadvantages.” Mark watched as another dog approached Freddie. Seth stroked and petted and made little shushing noises, finally shooing the other dog away when Freddie became too agitated.

Seth glanced his way. “It doesn’t look like that’s a problem for you. You look good. Very good, actually.”

Mark blushed, shifting in his seat. Something frightened Freddie and Seth wrapped a comforting arm around him. Mark said, “That’s a high-maintenance dog you have. You seem to be good with him, though.”

Seth chuckled. “High-maintenance, that’s a good word for it.”

“So why do you do it? I mean, it’s great you’re rescuing him and all but, um, doesn’t it take a lot of extra energy?”

Mark could barely make out Seth’s shrug. “I guess. I’m used to it by now. Fred Astaire is my fifth track rescue. My ex and I always had at least three. When we broke up he kept Lord Byron and Errol Flynn. I took Oscar Wilde. Oscar died of bone cancer over the winter so I adopted Freddie. It took him a few weeks to adjust to me and to living in a house, not a kennel. Now we’re working on socialization.” He stroked Freddie’s neck and back. “The thing about rescue animals is that even though it’s so much work, it’s really worth it because you end up with such a strong bond.”

Mark glanced at Belle, who was play crouching before a full-size poodle. “I think I can see that. All my best friends have been dogs.”

Seth paused. “Dogs are good. They’re loyal. That’s important to me.”

Good to know. Mark cleared his throat. “Still, working with emotionally damaged dogs must be difficult, especially when you could so easily find an undamaged companion.”

Seth laughed. “Maybe I like a challenge. My sister says it comes from my need to be special. She thinks it’s because I’m a middle child. But then, she’s never approved of my choices.”

In dogs? Mark stared at the silver greyhound shivering beside Seth. “Freddie seems nice enough, even if he needs socializing.”

There was a long pause before Seth replied. “You’re right. Maybe I’m making better decisions and my sister will like this one.” He looked at his watch. “Oops, it’s getting late. I need to go. Will I see you again here tomorrow?”

“Um, yeah,” Mark mumbled. “Depending on the weather, sure.”

Seth and Freddie exited the park, Freddie mincing on his long thin legs and Seth with his puffed-chest dancer stride. Mark looked away when Belle appeared happy and mudcaked. By the time he looked again they were gone.

* * *

“I don’t know if I can do this, Lisa.” Mark looked around Claire’s living room as the others started to filter in.

She patted his arm. “Of course you can. Nobody’s going to bite you.”

Had she always been this oblivious or was it getting worse with pregnancy? “We’re sitting by the door in case I have to leave.” Mark took her elbow. After settling her in an armchair he hauled a folding chair nearby, within inches of the doorframe. How did he get himself talked into this?

Claire shot him a sympathetic look before clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Please take a seat,” she called. “We’re about to get started.”

The four other couples shuffled around until everyone was seated on couches or chairs. Men and women in equal measure. So much for gay parenting. Not in this session anyway.

“It’s like Noah’s ark,” he grumbled under his breath.

Lisa gave him a funny look. “You’ll find someone someday,” she whispered.

Christ.

Mark tried to focus on Claire’s introductory remarks but he couldn’t concentrate. He plotted escape routes and tried out excuses he could give Lisa for never coming again. He concentrated on his breathing and tried to burrow past the fear. One of the guys made a joke about his son emerging holding a football. A couple of the other guys whooped. The mother of the future quarterback smiled indulgently at her partner.

Everyone seemed nice enough. Pleasant. Lisa was right, they wouldn’t bite him. Mark knew that. He wasn’t crazy. He had a PhD in applied mathematics, for Christ’s sake. How much more rational could you get? And yet he could not remember when he’d felt so alone. It was like one of those nightmares where people talked and he couldn’t understand what they were saying and everyone suddenly looked totally alien, like pod people.

“Excuse me.” Mark stood and bolted through the doorway. He could hear the silence he left behind.

Someone whispered, “Is he all right?”

He heard Lisa start to answer but sprinted toward the kitchen so he wouldn’t have to know what kind of excuse she made.

Mark leaned against the counter, his heart pounding, breathing raggedly. Tears stung his eyes but he blinked them back. Self-disgust roiled through him like a snake. He closed his eyes, trying to press through the chaos of his emotions. Something important darted through his consciousness, just beyond comprehension. If only he could quiet the riot inside, he might be able to see.

“You okay?” Claire’s voice was gentle behind him.

Mark shook himself. He looked at her sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry to ruin your party.”

She smiled. “You didn’t ruin it. I have them doing breathing exercises.”

He started. “I should get back in there. Lisa…”

Claire’s hand restrained him. “Lisa joined another couple and she’s fine. This is my fault. I should have suggested individual classes for the two of you. I wasn’t thinking.”

Mark snorted. “It’s not your job to consider my neuroses. I’m not even the pregnant one.”

She shrugged. “Still, I should have been more sensitive.”