Page 45 of Frosted and Sliced

“Hmm,” he said, now sounding thoughtful. “Interesting.”

Georgie looked between them. “Do you have some sort of translation manual I can borrow to explain things to him?” she asked Elyse.

“No, because then you would have to know the things we know, in order to understand,” Elyse said.

“Elyse is right, you don’t want that,” Burke said. To her surprise, he rested his hand on her leg, a sign of his earnest supplication.

“Maybe I don’t want to know all the things you know, but I do want to understand you,” Georgie said, now resting her hand on his leg, her tone matching his earnest one.

“It’s fairly simple, Georgette,” he said, but that was all and she was left to wonder what he meant, or what she might be missing, because so far she hadn’t figured him out in the slightest.

Music must have started to play because Elyse’s attention drifted to the makeshift dance floor in the center of the room. Dancing was a common occurrence at the bar, so much that all the tables had been pushed to the edges of the room to keep the center clear. Georgie heard that at night it often devolved to rowdy line dancing, sometimes with fights between the drunken revelers. During family hours it was occasionally the spot forcouples to sway or, in rare cases, show off their actual dance talent.

Elyse nodded her head toward it. “Do you want to make up for that lost dance all those years ago?” she asked Cotton, who grinned like the love-soaked idiot he was now.

“Why not?” he said, the besotted ninny.

Georgette suppressed an inward eye roll as they scooted out of the booth and made their way onto the floor. Maybe love was in the air because there were a handful of couples there now, swaying gently, and it made the pain in her stomach increase. She eyed Burke.

“Want to give it a go?” she asked. She tried to say it in an amused, offhand tone, as if it didn’t really matter to her, but suddenly she wanted to be out there, wanted to be one of the people who danced in public for once.

Burke looked mildly horrified. “I don’t have any idea how to dance.”

Georgie pointed to her ears. “I can’t hear the music or the beat, so you’d be in pretty good company. But how hard can it be?” Her eyes must have given away how badly she wanted it, or maybe Burke was merely curious because he set down his drink and gave a decisive nod.

“Sure, okay.”

“Really?” she blurted, certain she’d have to work a lot harder to convince him.

In answer, he nudged her toward the booth’s exit.

Georgette slid out, Burke following, and they made their way to the dance floor. She felt conspicuous and uncomfortable, as if everyone was probably watching her. Did Burke feel the same? Doubtful, and when they faced each other she read no discomfort in his eyes. Then again it was hard to read anything in his eyes because he was fairly good at keeping his emotions hidden.

Georgette maintained a very long list of things she’d never done. Most of her life had been lived on the outside looking in. Perhaps first on that list was dancing with a man. She’d never been to a dance before. Certainly no one had asked her, and she had never gone stag, pretending instead that it didn’t bother her to stay home, that she eschewed dances and parties and would rather stay home. The truth was that she’d cried every homecoming and prom night she didn’t attend, cried when she looked at pictures online, cried after she heard kids’ stories from the night. Somehow she maintained the hope that someone would ask her after her parents died, if only out of pity. Certainly some mother somewhere would make their son ask the deaf orphan to the dance, but it never happened. Until now, when her attic hobo put his hands on her waist and eased closer, woodenly swaying her back and forth.

This wasn’t how it was done, she was certain. Even without being able to hear the music or the beat, she knew they weren’t doing it right. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t say anything to hurt Burke’s feelings or embarrass him; it wasn’t as if he had any experience in this arena, either. Instead she eased a little closer, rested her hands on his chest, and began to sway in a more relaxed manner, without clunking her feet back and forth like a windup toy robot.

Burke was a quick study. He stopped stumping his feet and began swaying the upper part of his body instead and it was nice, cozy and familiar and warm and fun and all the good things she’d always thought dancing would be.

“Is this everything you thought it would be?” Burke asked her.

“It’s pretty great,” Georgie said, smiling. “Aren’t you having fun?”

“Do I enjoy dancing with you? Yes. But I think different things make us tick. I don’t need the things that you need.”

“What do you think I need?” she asked.

“Acceptance. Approval. Community.”

“And what do you need?” she asked, not arguing with his assessment. She did need those things, and she wanted them, too.

“Purpose,” he said. “I need to feel like what I’m doing in the world matters.”

“And do you have that?” she asked, remembering his lackluster life in her attic, as her handyman.

“I used to, or so I believed. Now I guess I’m reconfiguring some things,” he said thoughtfully.

“I don’t disagree with you that we need and want different things, but I would argue that we both need community, we both need people.”

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