Page 24 of The Virgin's Dance
Grace, pale and shaken, kissed Boh’s cheek. “Hey, baby girl.” She and Pilot exchanged a glance. “Nell, I think you should know that Boh was recently diagnosed with mild anemia.”
Nell nodded. “I did suspect something was wrong. Did she eat today?”
It was weird that they were talking about her as if she wasn’t there, and Boh felt tears spring up in her eyes. She tugged on Pilot’s hand and made a motion—she wanted his arms around her. Pilot perched on the edge of the bed, and Boh wriggled into his embrace. Pilot kissed her forehead and looked back at Nell. “She did. We had breakfast this morning.”
“Popeye breakfast,” Boh managed to croak, and she felt relief that her speech hadn’t gone forever. Her fear had been that it was indicative of something more than just the shock of collapsing, and her whole body relaxed.
The doctor came to see them soon after and ran through some tests. He didn’t look too concerned. “I would suggest rest, more than anything else. I know how you ballerinas go hard at it, but rest and a good diet will go a long way in your case.” He hesitated. “Any other symptoms you’re not being forward about?”
“No, I would tell you.” Boh was already feeling better.
The doctor nodded and smiled. “I’d like to keep you in overnight just to make sure, but I’m leaving that up to you.”
“Honestly, I’d feel better at home.” She tried to smile. “I don’t do well in hospitals.”
He patted her leg. “Fine. I assume there’ll be someone with you?”
“Yes,” Pilot and Grace both answered at the same time and broke into laughter.
The doctor grinned. “Well, I’ll leave you two to fight over this one.” He smiled at Boh kindly. “Take care of yourself, Boh. My wife and I are great fans of the ballet.”
“You’ll have the best seats at our next show,” Nelly told him, and he laughed.
“I should say no,” he lowered his voice to a stage-whisper, “but I won’t. Goodnight, folks.”
Pilot sat down next to Boh again. “So, where’s home for you tonight? No pressure either way.”
Grace grinned. “Dudes, why not both of you stay at our place? Show Mr. Showbiz here the way real people live. I’m going back to the studio to practice my piece for the performance on Friday, so you’ll have privacy.”
Pilot laughed and Boh was pleased to see her two friends bonding. “Well, if you don’t mind squeezing into a single bed?” She looked at Pilot, who grinned.
“With you? I’d sleep under a bridge. Sleep, baby,” he added meaningfully and Boh flushed, unable to stop the grin on her face.
He took her home, and as they climbed the stairs to the apartment, she noticed a box of groceries outside the door, as well as several bouquets of flowers. Pilot smiled as he hefted the boxes and flowers inside. “The food is from me—well, the doc did say you needed to eat—and the flowers are from your friends. Even Kristof,” he said with a sigh as he checked the card on a huge bunch of lilies. “Lovely. Send funeral flowers, asshole.”
“No matter,” she said, and dumped the lilies in the trash. “We can’t have lilies in the house because of Beelzebub.”
Pilot stopped.“Beelzebub?”His tone was incredulous and Boh giggled. She really was feeling better now, and she went to find the malevolent cat. She picked him up and took him out to meet Pilot.
“Pilot Scamo, meet Beelzebub. He earns his name.” The cat was already yowling to get out of her grip, but as she dumped him on Pilot, the cat suddenly calmed and rubbed Pilot’s chin with his head.
“You damn little turncoat,” she laughed as Pilot looked smug. He stroked the cat then put him gently down and looked around the apartment.
“This place is great.”
Boh chuckled. “You don’t have to say that.”
“No, I mean it. First up, bookshelves stuffed with books. Always the mark of good character.” He grinned as he spoke. “Do you know that John Waters quote?”
“If you go home with someone and they don’t have books, don’t fuck them,” she answered and he laughed. Boh slid her arms round his waist. “It’s a good rule of thumb.”
Pilot kissed her. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really, but I should eat something.” She looked over at the box of groceries. “What did you buy me?”
Pilot grinned. “Well, for tonight, I thought maybe scrambled eggs with a little truffle oil?”
Boh moaned. “God, truffle oil, you seductive little tramp.”
