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Garraty tilted his face to soak up some sun in the last hours before darkness fell. They were walking along a country road, green fields on either side.
“What about you, Ray? Did you play any sports?”
Garraty tried not to notice Baker’s use of the past tense.
“No team sports. I dance, though.”
Parker snorted.
Garraty felt suddenly defensive. “What? You got a problem?”
“No, no. Very impressive. I’m sure all the ladies swoon when they see you fuckin’ moonwalking through the door.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you sounded jealous,” drawled Abraham.
“Of course he’s jealous!” McVries winked at Garraty. “Who wouldn’t want a chance to swoon at a pretty boy like that!”
“I wasn’t kidding,” Garraty huffed. “I really do dance.”
“We believe you, Garraty,” Baker reassured him. “What sort of dancing do you do?”
“Cha cha and rhumba. Mrs. Dorgen—my instructor— wanted me to start teaching lessons this fall.”
“So you’re good, then?” Abraham asked.
“Well, I’ve practiced three hours a week since I was ten years old, so I sure hope so. Also, Mrs. Dorgen says I’m a fast learner.”
“Show us,” said McVries.
“What?”
“Dance for us, Garraty. There’s nothing else to do, and I’m curious.”
“You think I’m that stupid? You’re no better than Barkovitch, trying to burn me out. Yeah, I’m not falling for that.”
“I’m not trying to trick you. Look, we’ll make a deal: You give us one dance, and I’ll carry you. Five minutes before to save your energy up, five minutes after so you can get it back. And you already owe me for saving your ass earlier.”
Garraty narrowed his eyes at McVries. “You’re really being serious, aren’t you?”
“Jesus, how many times do you want me to say it? Yes, I just want to see you dance!”
“Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I’m going to die soon and I wanted to have something nice before I buy it. If you ask me, a better question is, why the fuck not?”
Garraty didn’t have an answer for that. “Fine, I accept.”
“Swell!” McVries swung his knapsack around so that it sat on his chest and he leaned over a bit. “Come on, Garraty?”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. When else? We’re dying, here.”
Garraty hesitated, but hopped onto McVries’ back.
McVries grunted. “I thought you said you were only one-sixty pounds.”
“I thought you said you were in good shape.”
“Cut a guy some slack! Not all of us have been dancing three hours a week for the past six years. Hold on, give me a minute…” McVries was silent for a beat. “That adds up to about 900 hours, I think. That’s a lot of dancing, over a month straight.”
Garraty was silent. That was a lot of dancing, but maybe it was all the dancing he would ever do. He felt a wave of panic course through him at the thought. Why was he doing this to himself?
McVries must have felt Garraty tense against his back. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Just—I just realised that this might be my last dance,” Garraty said quietly into his ear.
The contact was… nice. Not just giving his legs a rest, but being able to feel the heat of another human body was comforting; a reminder that he wasn’t alone, not yet. Garraty closed his eyes and rested his head on McVries’ shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Don’t go making something out of nothing,” McVries told him. “I’m just doing this for a bit of entertainment in my last moments.”
“You two look like a walking disaster, I wonder what the world would say if they could see this,” Abraham said.
“Dancing disaster, you mean,” Baker said.
McVries gave them the finger, but laughed. “This is me buying us all tickets to go see a show, so I suggest you just think about who you’re talking to with that tone.”
“I suggest you remember that the ‘show’ you’re referring to is the fuckin’ Nutcracker,” said Parker.
“That’s ballet,” Garraty informed him. “I only do cha cha and rhumba.” Then he frowned. “Hey, Pete? Which one did you want me to do?”
“I honestly don’t know the difference. Any of you fellas have a preference?”
Parker snorted again.
“Whichever is happier,” said Baker. “I want something fun.”
“That’s cha cha, then,” said Garraty. Then he had a sudden, awful thought. “I can’t, I don’t have a dance partner!”
“Do the rhumba, then,” McVries said easily.
“But I’d need a partner for that, too!”
“Well, we made a deal, so you’re going to dance, partner or not. Surely you can find a way. You must have danced by yourself when you were practicing.”
“Sometimes,” Garraty admitted. “But the dance is going to be a bit choppy though, ‘cause I’ll be making it out of pieces of different routines.”
“That’s fine, just as long as you give us a show.” McVries grunted. “Has it been five minutes yet?”
Garraty checked his wristwatch. “I have ten seconds left.”
“Good. You ready?”
“Probably. I’ll dance ‘til I get my second warning, that gives you a full minute. Sound fair?”
“Yes.”
Garraty slid off of McVries’ back and got into his ready position, mentally going through the routine. Abraham, Baker, McVries, and Parker started walking backwards to watch.
“Warning! Warning, 47!”
Garraty took a deep breath, and started dancing. Since the others couldn’t hear the music in his head, he let himself count the beats out loud. The cha cha was a flirty dance, which was one of the reasons he had wanted to teach Jan. McVries whooped at him.
It was good to dance, he nearly forgot the exhaustion in his feet. As he danced, he could almost pretend that he was back in Mrs. Dorgen’s studio. He started gaining speed, dancing faster and faster as he went. This was his last dance, and he was making every second count.
The others had started clapping with the beats of Garraty’s dance, but Garraty barely noticed, too wrapped up in the thrill of the cha cha.
“Warning! Second warning, 47!”
Garraty almost kept going, but then McVries was there, grinning at him.
“Warning! Warning, 61!”
Garraty quickly clambered back onto McVries' back, panting. “So, was that worth the effort of carrying me?”
“Absolutely.” McVries hurried to catch up with the others, who were still applauding.
“Thank you,” said Garraty, and he rested his head on McVries' shoulder.