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This time, it was only a couple days before I heard from her again – and an actual entire sentence this time – be still my beating heart. Before the weekend arrived, the double-buzz brings to Eliza only:
“I’d like to update my wardrobe before my Grantchester meeting – feel like returning a decade-old favor and taking me shopping?”
I shrug with multiple shoulders and start the car. Eliza texts back, “Meet at a store, or at yours?”
“Not sure which stores are good. Come over and we’ll look at what I’ve got and go from there?”
I switch seats with Teddy, sending him back to the stakeout. I wish I could be inside her flat already when she sees who rings the buzzer, but the look on her face when she opens the door – even though she saw me on cam – is still brilliant. She’s attempting to arrange her face back to normal from shocked as she invites me in.
“Hey…Gestalt. Thanks for coming by.” She’s looking me up and down, and Robert looks impeccable today – no undercover club-kid fashion mistakes. She takes in his cashmere v-neck under a plum jacket that hits mid-thigh on his slate grey-check skinny trousers, paired with black loafers and no socks. An appreciative expression passes over her face and apparently he is deemed an acceptable shopping partner.
“I know this isn’t who you were expecting – I was a little taken aback that you texted Eliza only.” I click Robert’s tongue and shake his head. “I expected better from you, Myf – I had no idea your feminism would be affected by a memory wipe.”
She opens and closes her mouth, a little taken aback herself, and chooses a tangential rejoinder. “Oh boy, another verbal spanking from Robert. Tell me, do you just save this body for when you want to tell me how much I’m fucking up?” Heat spreads across my cheeks and I bite their insides as I look down at those pristine loafers and cross my arms under the sunglasses hanging from my shirt neck. Alex chugs a tea so he doesn’t start spewing swear words into a mic. Target acquired. “Ah.” She blushes herself, now. “A little too rough?” I nod my head several times.
Robert’s voice is barely a whisper as I focus on keeping him from stammering. “L --listen, I asked you to forgive me for how brutal I was in the week after the bridge. I know it will take a while, but you asked me here and I’m here because this me is available.” I look up with Robert’s plaintive, earnest expression. Eliza’s staring into a mirror, waiting for the end of this. “Anything said to you comes from the whole of me, but, but I know it’s hard to separate the bodies from their actions. If you like, I can have Teddy come back to get me and Eliza will come when she’s free.” She shakes her head and mumbles an apology.
I continue, “I’m sorry about the feminism jab, that might have also been below the belt. I-I can’t even begin to explain how much of a constant struggle it is to see people treat the Eliza part of me so differently. You know the fraternals were trained exactly the same, but our superiors assume Robert is better at every aspect? They even tried to make Eliza’s salary a full fifteen-thousand euro less than the other three. It’s disgusting and I hate it, so it struck a nerve when you just assumed she’d be the one to come shopping.” Still in the lav, Eliza punches the mirror just hard enough to not break it.
The look of shock and chagrin on Myf’s face is all the apology I need. It’s a little tiresome re-explaining this to my best friend, but in order to make myself take it seriously, I have to keep think of it as if a spouse got cancer – would I leave her to chemo treatments on her own, no matter how much it hurt to see her wasting away? I’m not a fucking animal; there’s no chance. So I keep coming back when she asks me to.
“Honestly, I was just thinking about dressing rooms?” she says quietly. I burst a quick laugh.
“Oh, is that all? Ha! the shops I go to do not even know what a gendered stall is.” She smiles a little and seems relieved that I can laugh.
“Sincerely, thank you for coming. I can’t even tell you how dire this is. I’m looking through these clothes and I cannot even fathom wearing some – most? Heaps look like they came right out of a Cornerstone Group women’s catalog.”
Shocked into laughter, again, Robert’s surprised face looks foreign on him – Alex is the only one who can be accused of not being stoic. “That’s one way to put it,” I say as I walk into her cupboard, rolling my eyes. “I am really very tempted to just burn all this, but 1) it would be weird for me to tell you what to wear and 2) some things are salvageable.” My eyes have already been drawn to the turquoise dress still in the cleaners’ bag, hanging with the other formal wear. They flick there again. “Tell me what are definite no’s for you, NewMyf.”
We spend the next hour going through one-by-one. Thank christ beiges are out! Many of the sweaters are keepers, and despite myself, I advise her to keep some of the boring basics to build on. High-waisted khakis – gone. Ankle-length skirts in boring colors – gone. Goodbye, floral fucking dresses. By the time we’re done, there is a nice pile for the charity shops and a good idea of what NewMyf doesn’t like.
“That’s sorted, then. Now it’s time to figure out the yes – what direction you want to go in the future.” She sighs a little and wanders through the decimated space.
“I’ve been thinking a lot, and I’ve googled some shops but I don’t know which ones are really good.” She tucks the tip of her hair into her mouth and chews thoughtfully – a new habit. “Now that I’ve thought about it, I feel like if we go into some shops that recognize Robert, the staff will at least know I’m looking for better fashion.” She looks down, indicating her no-brand jeans and a plain tee. “They’ll see you have good taste, and maybe take pity on me. Besides, it seems like you have opinions on women’s clothing, too.”
Moving backward, Myf touches the dress she wore to Founder’s Feast. I nod, “Eliza has to get dressed, too, you know,” and look away fast. She raises a questioning eyebrow as she takes the dress down off the rack. I have to adjust Robert’s stance and try to casually move his jacket a little more closed. Every face of mine perks up, quite vividly at attention.
She walks closer with the dress in hand. “I know I wore this sometime near the Bridge incident. It was still in the hamper that week.” Myfanwy scrutinizes the garment and looks back up through her lashes at me. “Farrier told me it was at the ball that we had our…encounter.” Robert’s cheeks flame, I’m terrified by the idea that the King knew – before she abdicated, at least. Of course she monitored the footage – typical Checquy. “I’m glad she did, though, because until then I didn’t have any corroborating evidence that we did actually sleep together.” Robert’s face is startled into surprise for a second time in such a short while; surprise and hurt, but resignation and remembrance that she had still thought of me as a complete stranger. “For a little while, I thought you were making something up as a test to see if I had any memories. I was afraid to agree or disagree with you…I thought you might have been the one to do it.” Her look softens and is a little pained itself. “Now that we’re getting re-acquainted, I’m sorry I ever thought that.”
I’m close enough to touch her hair, and Robert’s hand goes out almost on its own. At the last second, I redirect it to her shoulder, making eye contact before I touch her. Nothing in her face says no, so I lightly rest my fingers and squeeze. “It’s ok, Farrier and Conrad each gave me some details. I know you were panicked out of your mind. But it’s behind us, now.” She smiles at the echoes of Teddy’s words in the Checquy stairwell.
“She also told me it was Robert that came out of the coat check a few minutes after me,” the blush returns, “and that Teddy and Alex guarded each door.” I nod, slightly and open my mouth to say something but she cuts me off. “I started getting flashes when I brought this back from the cleaners…” Robert’s mouth closes with an audible snap, “and I think it’s not the whole story.” I shake my heads very gently, each where they are. Eliza gets asked if she disagrees with something being said in a briefing and has to cover quickly. Myf is not the only one who can lie on her feet – guess we’re a matched set…of five?
“I can tell you…if you like?” She hesitates but puts my hand on the hem of the dress. “I’ll make you the same offer as before – you can leave it lie – you don’t have to remember her.” The idea seems to roll over her, that she could pick and choose what to remember. And even though I think a big part of the invitation today was to get this piece of herself back, she ends up shrugging.
“Actually, I think I will wait. I thought I was ready but I’m not certain now that you’re here.” A conflicted look passes on her face as she looks up and attempts a smile as she replaces the dress. “I might be able to get this one back on its own.”
And as she was talking, it did hit me. The Myf who wore that dress is gone, and I am extraordinarily lucky to have this chance to get to know the new one. Is it fair to her to ask her to remember? Is it fair to me? I nod slightly, again, and she touches the dress. The tension and awkward is tangible so I try to break the mood.
“Did Farrier also tell you that Teddy tried to devour your face like a hyena and expected you to know it was a kiss?”
We both explode with laughter It’s amazing to see her so free that I do not even mind throwing myself under the bus. Countless hours I have replayed that moment of passion from Eliza’s perspective and been mortified – I was actually glad that memory was gone for Myf. Ugh, no wonder she ran off, her jaw was probably bruised. It hurt in the moment that she ran, but upon those playbacks, it began to make sense.
Myf is doubled over, still laughing. “What … what does that even mean?!?” The giggles bubble up again, and Robert snickers. Again, in the postgame analysis, it was so much better that she found her way to this body, because it and Eliza are both well-trained in seduction. Of all the bodies, they have the most practice with the physicality of sex, and processing those emotions. Putting a hand down, she rests her weight on the floor, still laughing, but calming her breathing and clutching her side.
“Remember what I told you on our jog? Some bodies have more practice – and thus more physical skill – at certain activities.” I’ve had Robert raise a saucy eyebrow, and Myf nods, still chuckling but getting air into her lungs by now.
“Well that makes sense, then,” she leans back and stretches her legs out, smiling but much more calm. “Intimidation and interrogation are antithetical techniques to the honeypot,” her eyes flick up to Robert’s hair, eyes, and jaw… traveling down to his narrow shoulders and slender hips. I put Robert’s hand out like a waiter carrying a tray and have him spin quickly on his heel.
“Don’t forget to get my best side,” I say as he sticks out his bum maintained by hours of squats. It gets another giggle and I offer her a hand up. “If we are truly sorted, then first I need a bite and second we need to get you clothes.”
--
A split Tesco’s curry and short tube ride later, we arrive at Dover Street Market and we stand in the open industrial space. I ask her again what type of look she’s drawn to; this time, she has examples in front of her and it’s easier to focus. The look on her face while she concentrates is breathtaking – she has always been amazing at analysis. Now she’s sussing herself out, looking inside and outside at the same time for what she sees and what she feels, and the cross-section of the two. And the hair-chewing might strike some as yick, but damn if it doesn’t look cute on her with her hand on her chin.
“These are good ideas,” she says, pulling the hair out of her mouth. Her eyes light up and she looks at me, full-on, beaming. Every body is distracted for a moment. I grab her hand and smile back at her – reserved but excitedly – and look around for a starting direction. “I assume there’s an on-site tailor?”
I nod, and she’s off, starting in the Men’s General Space. I make eye contact with the salesperson, whose face lights up with recognition and I give a nod in Myfanwy’s direction. Immediately, she’s greeted. She’s mixing solid blazers with amazing print pants. I stick with her long enough to get a sense of what she’s putting together. She looks through Women’s and passes on most things but does choose a couple skirts and lacy tops. Kiko Kostadinov grabs her attention and holds it, and she’s holding an animated conversation with the staff there. I hang back as silent support while she selects some pieces and has her measurements taken. She wanders some more, and I surreptitiously write something in my pocket notebook.
While she’s otherwise occupied, I make my way to Balenciaga. I talk to the salesgirl briefly, rip the paper out of my notebook for her, and am told she has just the thing. Robert’s eyes can twinkle beguilingly when I turn it on full-force, and it’s especially effective toward service-people who often get treated so incredibly shite by rich assholes. She waves me back to a dressform, and my black credit card is out without even a second thought. Teddy pounds his fist against the inside frame of his car, and Alex’s thumbnail has been bitten down to blood. “I know it’s short-notice, Daniela,” I say, “but is there any way it could be ready by 3?” Unabashedly, the dimple comes out. She stammers that it’s already almost done, and the measurements I gave her are practically sample size. “You’re amazing.” I touch her shoulder, “I’ll be back for it then.”
As I walk back over to Kostadinov’s, I don’t see Myf and I raise an eyebrow at the staff. I’m immediately escorted to a free-standing stall of canvas walls. “Did I miss anything spectacular?” I call in, and get a frustrated sigh.
“A few near-misses, but I think this one might really work.” She emerges from the stall and Teddy’s hands clench the wheel of his –stationary – car. Alex is already in the bathroom so he rushes to the stall to sit. Eliza’s at her desk, and her eyes glaze over as if she is not even there. A pawn walks in the room talking, stands for a minute expecting an answer, then leaves. I have no idea what my silence just permitted – and I do not care.
Myf has re-tried on an outfit after the tailor pinned it. Mustard-yellow trousers with a dark-brown check sitting very low on her hips catch my eye first. A loose-fitting white tank which is hardly more than a ruffle barely covers the braless skin which is exposed by a stone gray blazer with strikingly white dress stripes – pinned to define her waist – and she topped off the look with a pair of oxblood Oxfords, not brogues. Someone had given her a dramatically steep side-part and used a salon clip to keep it in place.
“I think NewMyf really likes an androg aesthetic. What do you think?” Robert’s mouth is opening and closing with the beginnings of multiple sentences but they all require breath, which I currently cannot seem to force my lungs to provide. She is stunning – fucking marvelously amazingly gorgeous – which I have always thought but had never considered obvious.
I make Robert’s head nod slowly, and the salesperson takes her by the arm, looks at him, and says, “That is why we call certain people ‘a knockout.’ Yaasss, queen!,” and then pushes her back into the stall. The staff sniffs over to me haughtily, saying, “You better learn to use your words, or you will lose them as soon as they get their new wardrobe together.” I’m still gaping and blinking when it registers that they just assumed we were together, and four bodies sigh and smile.
From inside the stall, Myf raises her voice saying, “Ok, now that you’ve seen one look, can you scope out anything else that goes with what I’ve got?” She sticks an arm out to a pile of clothing that I would never have imagined on her body. I wander for accessories and a couple of staples, but her hero pieces speak for themselves and I meant it when I said it would be weird to dress her.
I slide my cooler-than-you look at the snotty salesperson and motion to the ground behind me. I will never be rude to retail staff, but if you come at me, I can remind you that it’s my money you want. A chair materializes without another word but with another exchange of superior glances -- which I win. For the next hour, I am thankful that Teddy is on a stakeout, and that he eventually gets the chance to run down a target. Eliza pretends to type things, and Alex stares blankly at monitors, relying on his knights to advise Teddy over coms, claiming “the twin thing”. Meanwhile, I get the most glorious eyeful of a Pretty Woman-style montage in genderqueer. The real-time factor of it gives me time to hunt down what I’m looking for and make reservations. And every once in a while, with a near-miss, I’m able to suggest a modification that improves the look.
Several thousand dollars later, my arse is sore from the real-time factor of the montage and Myf is making delivery arrangements for her purchases after they’ve been altered. While she’s doing that, I slip back upstairs and Daniela pouts prettily, “I was just about to text you!” I give her the thousand-watt smile and touch her hand while making soft eye contact.
“Well, I’m here now, isn’t that better?” she giggles and hands me their signature bag. “Thank you so much, you have no idea how appreciative I am.” She replies that I’m welcome to show her, so I wink and let her enjoy the scenery as I leave.
When I return, Myf’s eyes take in the Balenciaga bag and get very round. If Daniela got 1000 watts, I turn it up to 3K for Myf, and chuckle at my clever self for thinking that I’d let her pop my lightbulbs anytime. Eliza gags at the thought. Ew, gross, just being here is turning me into a douche. Good thing we’re leaving.
“I didn’t think they sold anything off the rack here,” she says, glancing around the shops filled with one-of-a-kinds. I raise an eyebrow and one shoulder and let her wonder. Childlike-she tries to peek into the bag. Even though the garment is wrapped in tissue and inside a box, I switch the bag to the other hand. She tugs at my wrist playfully. “C’monnnn…show me what you bought!” I grab her hand and keep it this time. She did as much with Alex. She leans in and I smell her, but it’s an un-clever attempt to look again.
“You’ll know soon enough,” I say, leadingly. When she implies very vaguely that I may have traded sexual favors for preferential treatment at the boutique, I bristle visibly. “Keep that line up and you will not get your present.”
Her face was stormy when she said it … perhaps even a little jealous? But I’m unmoved, it’s unfair of her to use my professional training to make me feel bad. She doesn’t know how much space I’ve held for her yet, and it’s too early to spring that on her. However, it breaks into giddiness when she hears that it is truly for her.
“Shit, Gestalt, I’m the one who should be getting you a gift for doing me this incredible favor.” She slows and smiles, her hand still in mine. I take a chance and slide my other hand through the bag’s handle and put it on Myf’s hip. “Hmm… you could return the favor,” she smiles questioningly, “by going on a proper date with me. 9’o’clock. Tonight.” Hopefully most of me will be home by then.
The clouds return and I can tell she’s conflicted.
“Look, Myf, I’m having a great time getting to know you – this you – and we’ve done some fun things over the past two weeks.” I bring my clearest stare to look into her eyes. “And I’m okay with taking it slow, but people who don’t know each other get to know each other by going on dates.” She moves some hair into the corner of her mouth. She needs another nudge. “I promise it will be in public, and it will be activity-based, so we don’t have to talk about anything we don’t want to.” She’s still considering it, and leaning, but not there yet. Now depending on how I deliver this next part, it could get an extreme reaction in either direction. I inch my hand to her back, and squeeze the hand of hers which is still in mine, bringing her just a tiny bit closer to Robert’s gorgeous body.
“In fact, while this present is for you, regardless…it also just happens to be suited for the plans I have tonight. If you don’t want to go, it is still lovely and I hope you’ll like it. No strings attached.”
“People getting to know each other don’t buy each other Balenciaga,” she says. I shake my head and roll my eyes.
“Myf – have you looked in your bank account?” She nods slowly. “Now multiply that by four.” She concentrates a little as she performs the sum. “Rich people who are getting to know each other buy each other Balenciaga.”
I glance at my watch – 3.30 – three hours gone from lunch break. “I need to get back to join Teddy – he’s got the target and I need to fill out the report. Will you text me about the date tonight by…say…6pm?” She nods and takes the bag from me, but before I let go, I move my head toward her and question her with Robert’s blue eyes. She smiles a little, and I surprise her by going for her cheek – maybe a little too far back – and plant a soft kiss by her ear. I pause and whisper, “I hope to see you sometime soon.” And then squeeze her hand, spin on Robert’s heel and head to the tube.
--
None of me can sit still for the next two hours, but it’s not until 5.30 pm that the anxiety really starts to kick in. Good thing I do not need thumbnails for tonight.
6:07pm. She is a demon sent from hell to torture me.
6:08 pm. Bzt-bzzz “Where shall I meet you?”
Robert by himself texts back – “I’ll pick you up at yours. 9pm precisely.”
--
7.30pm.
Robert’s out of his seat like a shot, stacking the op report pages precisely and capping his fountain pen. I hurriedly drop them in Ingrid’s inbox and she shouts, “Wait – where are you –“ and then sees Eliza in the office door. “It was his night to catch up on signatures. Now I have to read your lousy scribbles.”
“Honeypot op,” Eliza says, blankly.
“Eh? Don see anything on the books…” she glances over her encoded blotter.
“It’s a hunch,” Eliza looks back at Ingrid, “Just trust me.”
--
8.58pm
Unlike certain demons, I can be punctual. Standing in front of her cam, I triple-check my outfit, which will look fine even if she has decided to not accept the dress, and thumb through my three backup reservations. The all-black lightweight jersey button-down has short sleeves which form-fit Robert’s nicely muscled biceps, and since it only has three buttons from the bottom, leaves a smooth hint of skin peeking out. Although the pants are slightly high-waisted, they complement the rear of which I’m so proud. Tiny threads of silver woven through the shirt highlight the subtle glossy-black filigree along the button line. The fact that it contrasts insanely with the shocking quad-platinum hair makes the entire look incredibly striking. If there are demons, there could be a deity, and I silently ask any possibilities to assure she will like it.
The door opens, and we breathe a unison, “Oh my god.” She stands there, holding it open, motionless. Remembering the salesperson, I have to resort to a stored phrase because I can’t remember any other words. “May I say, you look fucking amazing.” All of me is home, but nothing prepared me for this. Eliza has the wherewithal to put her feet on the sides of the treadmill. Alex and Teddy get completely destroyed in the videogame they were playing, controllers falling out of their hands.
The Balenciaga dress fits perfectly, Daniela is getting flowers tomorrow, at the very least. Black-flounced cap sleeves bleed a black darts down Myfanwy’s sides, with a vibrant red bodice smoothly fitting down to those tiny hips and flaring at the knee in an uneven hemline that rises high to her left thigh. Black lines the inside of the hem, under more flounces. “I was afraid you wouldn’t like it. I was afraid it might be too girly for your new look. But I hoped – since you wanted color – “
“Shut up, I love it. I don’t own anything like it but you’re absolutely correct: it looks fucking amazing.” She stammers a little. “You do, too.” We’re standing at the door like idiots and I recover, motioning for her to come out.
As she comes out to the hall, I can see her more fully, and register her new haircut. “Oh my god, Myf…your hair,” She looks anxious briefly until the grin breaks out fully on Robert’s face like a freaking solar flare. Alex gets up off the couch and closes the bedroom door. Teddy goes into the bathroom and draws a bath. Eliza sits down heavily on the turned-off treadmill.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t like it. Especially after seeing the dress, I thought it wouldn’t be girly enough.” She looks down at her clutch and my feet remember to walk toward the lift. “Humphrey suggested a salon after he helped me with my hair.”
The severe part had been made permanent-ish – I mean, it will grow out if she wants it to – by an undercut to her crown on her right side. A tendril was left framing that side of the face, and some product was helping the rest of her hair flip to the left. She had put full on curl into the cascade over her left side.
“It comes down if I do a center part and looks more professional,” she touches the buzzed portion of her hair, “but I just wanted to do something completely different.”
I would think she was beautiful in a potato sack, but it’s probably too early to say something like that, in her mind. I have never, ever seen her look more gorgeous. Like she’s becoming who she really was all this time. Words. Words, Humphrey says to use words. “Ih—It suits you. Incredibly. You look incredible.” Robert’s stammer is light, but sometimes frustrating, whether the body repeats syllables or entire words.
This conversation has gotten us down the lift and to the drop-off circle where the Merc waits, idling with the porter nearby. I didn’t know if she’d be wearing heels – I look down… interesting, someone guided her to buying black dance heels – so I brought the SUV instead of the coupe. I help her into the car, closing the door softly behind her, and drive to our destination: a tapas bar that has salsa dancing after 10.
We walk in, leaving the keys with the valet, and get seated at one of the few tiny tables left, glad of my reservation. Alex cancelled my backups on the drive over. We choose our first beer/food combos and I go up to the bar and open a tab, getting a couple extra plates just for grins. When I return, Myf admits that she isn’t sure she is up to actually dance. “Let’s have our food and enjoy the music,” I say, “See where it goes.”
At Glengrove, the philosophy was to start training everyone do everything and see who shows aptitude for what. Myf wasn’t great at it, but her body knows the basics, and music is an excellent motivator. Plus – it’s a valid excuse to touch someone. Eliza’s body seems the most vulnerable to this development: she’s lying back on the still treadmill, mostly breathless. Our order arrives, and our fingers touch as we share the nibbles.
The emcee steps up on a dais, and welcomes all beginner couples to the dance floor. Her face freezes, and I smile, nodding Robert’s sculpted hair toward the dance floor. She takes a deep breath, puts an exaggerated skeptical look on her face, and gets up. The spectacularly clothed man and his flamboyant partner lead us through a couple very easy steps, and with a few flubs, Myf gets it much more quickly than she did as a teen. Robert is beaming at her, which she takes as encouragement, but honestly, it’s just giddiness at me getting to be here, do this, with her.
After a few minutes of simple lessons, the band starts an easy song to allow us to practice. And so on for twenty minutes. It’s amazing, she’s smiling and laughing and really seems to be enjoying herself in a way she never did in class. We dance an entire number through, me leading her with very basic claves and us outshining the novice couples on the floor. Three songs later, she fans herself between numbers, and moves her head back toward the table.
We sit again, closer this time, and she drinks her water down quite quickly. I go to refill our glasses at the bar and tell myself I cannot turn around and stare at her like a fool. Sipping, we enjoy the band until she’s ready to go back out on the dance floor. After just one song, it’s the band’s turn for a break, and the emcee – knowing his audience – plays a pop-charts ballad to let the audience have a breather.
“I was wary,” Myf begins, “but I’m having a really good time tonight.” I turn on the low-watt smile and lower my eyes. My fingers nearly touch from either side of her waist and I resist the urge to draw her nearer.
“I’m very pleased to hear it. I hoped you would have fun after a taxing day of shopping.” She rolls her eyes at me and sighs.
“Ok, or you could spoil it.” I panic after earlier today, but her quick grin reassures me that nothing’s ruined. I surprise her with a quick spin of both our bodies, and she steadies herself against me. “Smooth,” she jests, moving her hands from her shoulders to my neck. Every body sits straight upright and holds my breaths. I maintain unbreaking eye contact with Myfanwy as the song continues, but it is obviously coming to a slow end. My heartbeats slow but strengthen until I think I can feel it against this ribcage – and at least one other – and neither of us notice the dead air until we do.
Her lips turn up in the tiniest smile, and then she freezes, her shoes seemingly stuck to the floor as the next song starts. Concerned, I take her hand, pinching her palm between my thumb and fingers to break her out of it. “Myf … Myfanwy…what’s happening?” The color drains from her face but she turns her gaze back to me.
“I’d like to go, if that’s alright?” I nod, of course, and lead her off the dance floor. It’s abrupt, and it’s not perfect, but I did not expect a smooth ride: hasn’t been smooth for the last decade, no reason for it to change tonight. I aim a different nod at the hostess and she sends someone out the front door. I get to the bar and the female bartender walks right over – the Robert effect. Closing out the tab, I leave an exorbitant tip and check my wallet for cash for the valet who is already waiting with my car ready.
I help Myfanwy into the Merc and wait for traffic to climb in the driver’s side. “Home?” I ask, not waiting for a yes but getting started anyway. She rolls down the window slightly, and I crank up the ventilation, getting air circulating through the car. I reach out my left hand, touching behind her shoulder, and she begins talking.
“I saw it,” she says, “I saw our dance lessons at Glengrove. I saw the decrepit multi-purpose room, that horrid color on the walls. Blue-green and peeling. It was you and me and Eliza. God, watching you and Eliza was like expecting a dance competition judge come out and give you a blue ribbon. You were so patient with me and I was so many left feet…but not as crap as the twins…” I grin and she gives either a slight hiccup or a giggle. “Oh. Your face, yours, Robert – Gestalt but Robert – very close to mine, cheeks pressed together. I didn’t understand why I found you so pretty, and Eliza so alluring, and the twins so adorable. It was too many crushes at 17, I felt guilty for liking each of you so much. So I decided I’d be your friend, and something inside me broke. It’s like I heard it tear.”
There’s a parking spot down a side-street which is much less busy than this one, and I pull in. “All of that is true, Myfanwy, all of those things are as they happened. Alex and Teddy were excused after the second class because their bodies were too difficult for me to move gracefully, and that made it not worth training them in it.” She gives a weak smile. “I don’t know how you felt, but because all the other details were correct…I …I’d assume you’re remember the rest accurately.” The last bit is said quietly, in a bit of a rush.
Her breathing has slowed and she turns toward the driver’s seat. “I think I’m okay now. Would you mind terribly if I asked to go home?” I smile reassuringly at her and touch her hand.
“Of course I don’t mind – whatever you like.” She smiles sadly and looks at her lap. “Would you like some music?” I activate the Bluetooth and pick a soft playlist of soul tunes. This late, it doesn’t take long to get to her flat – only medium London traffic – and I pull into the drop-off, leaving it idle as I did when I came to pick her up.
“You don’t have to walk me up, I can manage,” she says and I hesitate but still smile at the porter.
“I’d like to, if you don’t mind?” Turning down the dazzle on Robert’s smile, I try to make it look sincere as I joke. “Red attracts Vultures.” She pauses for a moment, then nods. Placing my hand on the small of her back, I lead her into the lift. As the doors close, she rests her head on my shoulder, and I move Robert’s hand to her hip.
At her door, she turns toward me first. “I’m sorry I cut our evening off so early.” She looks down at her bodice and twirls the lower end of her skirt. “It’s a shame that this dress only came out for a couple of hours.” I take her free hand and smile.
“Give us a twirl,” I say lifting her arm up by the hand, and as she does, Eliza finishes, covered in sweat on the treadmill. “Totally worth it,” I say, smiling even more. I bring her hand to my lips and keep her eye contact as I brush her knuckles softly with them. She brings our hands down and puts her other on my hip.
“I did have a lovely evening.” She looks back into my eyes. “And if you planned the evening hoping to bring back a memory…well done.” I smile and half-shrug.
“I didn’t know what would work,” I said, “but I knew I wanted an excuse to be that close to you. And I hoped you would have fun. You have no idea how happy it made me, seeing you enjoy yourself like that.”
She smiles sheepishly, saying, ‘I get the feeling it’s been a while since I’ve had that kind of fun.” I don’t tell her that I may never have seen her that free – but then, I’d never seen her on a real date. I just bring my hand to the buzzed side of her hair and run my thumb over it, loving the feel of the bristle and resistance. She leans her head in and steps closer to me.
Teddy shoves a pillow between his legs, and Alex does similar, rolling to the opposite side of the bed. In the shower, Eliza is not so circumspect. I look at Myfanwy with a question in my eyes, just like earlier today, and this time when I lean in, she meets my lips with hers.
Robert’s heart beats a panic attack as the kiss begins, and Eliza puts her face in her hands. Myf’s lips are warm and much more tender than in the coat check. But this Myf – NewMyf – doesn’t know me, she’s getting to know me. And she doesn’t have all the conflict of kissing her best friend running through her mind like I do – or the pain of losing that friend once, and now the risk of losing whatever’s left if I bung this up. I focus on the sensation, and how pleasant it is – much like I was taught at Glengrove although the thought of using that training with her sickens me – and my face is smiling as she pulls away.
“Good night, Myfanwy,” I say as I reach over and punch in her code. The surprise registers briefly on her face. “Sleep well. I will talk to you soon.” She pulls back a smile again and ducks in the door. I walk past the lift and take the stairs, walking down slowly one at a time, not wanting to come down too quickly.