The Fated Dance: Bound to the Shadow Dancer (12 page)

“There you go,” the young girl holds out the camera, anxious to get back to her boyfriend.

Grayson thanks the young couple as they playfully make their way toward the diner, arm in arm. Young love should be happy. But seeing them both on cloud nine, reminded me that time is against Grayson and I. We will never have that.

He checks out the image on the digital screen as I try to contain my misery. He chuckles and shows me the picture. It makes me chuckle because our faces look huge on it; taken on full zoom it appears. But within seconds, my smile dissipates.

“Why the sudden gloom?”

“Nothing… I’m fine,” I lie.

He hands the keys back to me. “Let’s roll then.”

After I’ve familiarized myself with dashboard, we set off on our way. When driving a new vehicle, it’s common to make the odd mistake, but I haven’t made one yet. Compared to my dad’s car, this is a breeze to drive. It’s so comfortable and I feel confident, as though I’ve drove this car for years. I’m loving it.

Grayson has been messing around with stereo for the past hour. He seems to be enjoying himself, not having the responsibility of driving, taking in the striking scenery as we arrive on the Oregon border. I’ve listened to Beethoven, Mozart, upbeat dance tracks, and Billy Joel (which was a little unexpected) Now he’s flicking swiftly through a classic rock album.

Guitar chords twang through the speakers. Immediately I know the song from its undeniable beginning: Don’t Fear the Reaper. I scowl across at him. I do like the song, but find it inappropriate. His foot taps to the beat and he begins to drum his hands on his thighs.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Shush,” he laughs. “Don’t spoil this. You got to admit, it’s a great song,” he turns the volume up louder.

“Yeah and?” I huff.

He begins to strum his unseen air guitar. “Come on, Jen,” he laughs. “Lighten up.”

“We’re you like born in another era or something. Your song choices are what my dad would listen to,” I frown.

“Romeo and Juliet…” he sings, completely ignoring me.  

I nod my head and sigh, keeping my view on the road. Should I be more relaxed about this? He is. He’s transforming from sophisticated polite businessman, to young at heart, with no worries in the world. I love seeing him like this. It’s a part of him that’s new to me. A part I want to keep forever.

                                                        ***

Grayson has now taken over driving duty as we near our destination. He insisted as he didn’t want me getting us lost. We’re surrounded by evergreen pines, letting in fragments of sunlight that bounce off the road. It’s such a wonderful place. The snow peaked caps on the great mountains in this thirty degree heat, is a sight I never thought I’d see.

We move by a large log cabin called: Big Basin’s grocery store. The carpark is full of people, hikers, and shoppers, stocking up for their summer vacation. There are massive modern RV’s parked up, with families outside stretching their legs after spending hours on the road.

“Nearly there.” Grayson turns left onto a dirt track, around half a mile out from the grocery store.

I look ahead and see a strange sight. A contemporary glass, warm wood, and steel building. It has sleek lines, like it has been plucked from a modern suburbia, and plonked in the middle of the forest.

Grayson shuts down the engine and unbuckles himself. “Finally.”

He gets out and walks to the back of the car, while shaking his legs to normalize blood flow. I open the door, noticing all the lights on inside the house. It’s an amazing place. Not too big, or too small. And as unconventional as it is, it still looks homely.

Grayson carries my bag. I can see from his arched body, and the way he holds his arm across his stomach, that he’s struggling with it. I hurry to his side and take it off him. He straightens up and with a deep outbreath, he opens the door.

“Grayson, you need to sit down.”

“Soon,” he huffs.

I carry my bag through the door and my jaw spontaneously drops open. It’s bright and all open-plan. The kitchen cupboards are cream with black worktops. The lounge area is situated before the stunning backdrop through the windows. The view through the glass panels across the entire back of the building is dreamlike. With great trees and a vast blue lake in the distance. I linger, staring in awe.

“You like?” Grayson asks.

“It’s amazing.”

He holds his hip and trudges by me, “I’ll show you upstairs.”

Concerned, I follow him up a wood and glass staircase. There is something really wrong with him. His legs are unsteady and I fear he might fall. Mercifully, he manages get to the top. I drop my bag and take hold of his hand.

“What is it?”

“It’s been a long journey that’s all,” he plays down his pain. “R and R is what I need.”

He shows me through a door straight ahead. I enter a large bright cozy room with a cream carpet under foot. The queen-size bed is made of oak, with a huge panel headboard and foot base. I turn to face Grayson. He’s stood before a set of folding tinted glass doors, which lead out onto a spacious balcony. It’s picturesque, with a large lounger that overlooks the lake, mountains, and sky.

“I’ll let you settle in,” he turns away, sluggish.

“Grayson?”

“I’m fine Jen.” He closes the door on me.

I quickly sort of my toiletries, and hang my clothes up in the walk-in closet next to Grayson’s. I feel as though I can’t leave him alone for too long in-case something bad happens.

I pick up my empty bag and hear a rattling sound. I frown, sticking my hand right to the bottom, to pull out the cause of the noise. My heart booms against my ribs. My birth control pills. A new sachet which I should have started taking yesterday. I have just realized, I’ve skipped an entire period. With everything that’s going on, I completely forgot Mother Nature hadn’t paid me a visit on time.

I tap the sachet on my hand, feeling queasy. Maybe the reason I’ve missed one is stress. I’m very emotional right now. One minute everything feels great, and the next I’m wanting to scream and cry. It’s got to have played havoc with my hormones. I’m on birth control; it’s basically foolproof.              

Jen has been gone for half an hour. She asked for the car keys and said she needed to go to the grocery store for something, in an agitated state. I didn’t ask questions. Reasons: it’s not my place. And I got the distinct impression it was for something feminine, which is a topic I don’t really care to discuss, or go into detail on.

She’s been acting weird since we arrived. All day yesterday she drifted in and out of a moody trance. I thought I’d show her around the place. Take in some fresh air on a nice woodland walk. I’d talk to her, but it was as though her mind was elsewhere, and I got nothing but a half-hearted reply. I was pissed. All the effort I made and she gives me the cold shoulder. She didn’t even seem that impressed with the area. I mean, it’s a hell of a lot nicer than Berkley. I don’t really know all the ins and outs of what women go through. So I’ve backed off, hoping she’ll open up, or calm down soon. If she has any regrets about being here (which is how it’s coming across) she needs to tell me before it’s too late.  

I guess her need to rush off in a strop, should be counted as a blessing in disguise. Now, I’m sat shivering on the bathroom floor, feeling like I’ve just emerged from a frozen lake.

I pull myself up using the sink as an aid, and wheeze for air like an old man before the cabinet mirror. How the hell do I hide this from her? I look like I’ve been dowsed in oil, with my skin all waxy and white.

I quickly open the cabinet door and fumble through several pill bottles. I find them, my emergency stash of high dosage, fast release steroids. I flick off the cap, and with a shaky hand tip the pink pills out onto my palm. The usual dose is two, so I swallow double that amount. I drop the bottle back onto the shelf, breathe in deep, and then swill my face with cold water.

“Grayson,” Jen calls through the door.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” I aim to sound healthy. “Why don’t you go and look in the fridge downstairs. There’s a surprise in there.”

“What’s wrong?”
Shit. She knows, and she’s going to push and push.

“I’m fine, Jen,” I bark, then rein in my frustration. “I’ll just finish up, and I’ll be right down.”

“Okay.” I watch her shadow move away from under the door.

The surprise to cheer her up, is a basket filled with wine, cream, and strawberries, which we’ll eat by the lake. I had plans. Enjoyable plans. And I didn’t think this damn sickness would start screwing up my body this soon.

After five minutes I swill my face again, then use the cream hand-towel to wipe the remaining sweat from my neck. My color has thankfully begun to revert back to someone who isn’t dead. I guess doubling the dose has started to work; it has got into my system faster. It’s not advisable, but I’m way passed following the rules now.

I make my way downstairs, fastening the buttons on a fresh white shirt. She stands at the square island in the kitchen, going through the basket with a sweet smile. A few weeks ago, I would have snuck up behind her and had my way, but I still feel out of it. And even though I find her body irresistible, having sex in the kitchen right now, might just finish me off. I need to get a grip. Wait until I’m nearing a hundred percent again. No matter how damn unsatisfying it is.

“Just had a quick shower,” I lie with ease. “So, I’ve booked us a table at the best restaurant on earth.”

“Where?”

I open up my elbow. “You’ll see… grab dinner,” I gesture.

She sweeps up the handle on the basket, and enthusiastically links up to my arm.

                                                  ***

We walk downhill on the path between the large solar rock lights, lighting our way on this mild night. The water delicately oscillates moonbeams that hit the surface of the lake, and our feet sink into the shingle beach. It’s perfect. So peaceful. With only the sound of lively crickets chorusing in the background.

She stares at the mountains silently, placing the basket on the damp sand. I’ve never seen a vision so beautiful. I run my fingertips over her bare shoulders and beneath her cream lace straps. She flinches as I move her hair, opening her arms to allow me to thread mine around her waist.

“You’re too quiet?” I inhale her scent.

“I don’t mean to be.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” My arms move as she takes a big breath in.

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“Being the worst company ever,” she huffs.

“You’ve been a little off. I can arrange for you to go home… if you want.”

“No,” she snaps. “I’m staying right here.” She runs her hand over mine. “One condition though.”

I kiss the back of her soft neck. “Anything for you.”

“Don’t ask me how I am.”

I smile against her skin. “Will you do the same for me?”

Her chest shudders with a small laugh. “For now.”

I pull my arms out from hers, and bend down to the basket to pull out a green blanket. I waft out the creases and spread it out on the sloped sand.

“Here?” I ask.

She looks over her shoulder and grins. “Sure.”

I watch her swing her arms back and forth like a mischievous child would. She’s finding this too hard. I mean who’d blame her, and this is the reason I didn’t want her to come with me in the first place.

“Sit down Jen.”

She silently sits with her knees to her chest and I join her. I take a bottle of white wine and two plastic flutes out from the basket.

“Drink?”

“I’ll have fruit juice if there is any,” she mumbles.

She’s making what should be enjoyable so damn difficult. “Really?”

“Okay… just a small one,” she replies fast.

I pour her half a glass and hand it to her. She takes a sip while looking at the view. Something is on her mind, and it’s beginning to really get to me.

“Jen, I’ve told you, you don’t need to be here,” I say with disappointment. “I can call Henry.”

She turns to me with a firm look. “No,” she barks. “I’m just tired… I’m sorry,” she grins, apologetic. “This is stunning, Grayson.”

I take her wine and set it down in the cup holder on top of the basket. “Lie down, there’s something you need to see.” I drop back and guide her down with me. “You see that star,” I point.

“Which one… there are thousands,” she laughs.

I take her hand and finger, and point it to the sky. “That one. It’s the star Arrakis, and represents the dancer.” I bring our arms down, but keep ahold of her hand.

“Really?” she slants her head to me.

“Yep, and I used to look at it every night and think about you.”

Her eyes gleam as her lips form a ray. “That’s really sweet, but so cheesy… you do know that.”

“Cheesy or not, that was all I had,” I look back to the sky. “And you see that star.” I take her hand and point to the sky again. “That is Ascella, and it means armpit.”

“Oh wow, what a great way to describe something in heaven,” she breathes through her laughter. “So, what star would you be?” she asks.

“I have no idea. Define me.” I turn onto my side, lean on my elbow, and angle over her.

She chews her cheek in thought. “Well, stubborn.”

“Okay,” I hum.

“Thoughtful.”

“Better.”

“Here,” her gazing eyes close slowly.

I hang my head low and swallow down the hard lump in my throat. It will not even give me this time with her. Even in the end, it will be this disease that defines me.

Her hand slides up my neck. I open my eyes and I’m catapulted hard into the intense feelings I have for her; almost as sickening as the death I face.

“Which is a good thing.” She arches up and her lips tenderly meet mine.

I hold the base of her slim neck in the palm of my hand and lie her down, carefully. Her kiss is more powerful than all the constellations put together. It’s consuming, desirous, and charged with an energy that feeds me. She pulls away and breathes on my face with needy eyes, plucking open the buttons of my shirt. I run my hand firmly up her soft thigh and beneath her skirt, ready to give into her demands. Ready to feel the only heaven I know.