Chapter 35
I’m dancing as we set up for our Saturday concert. William texted me this morning that he’d come to the show.
“Are you going to be able to perform tonight?” Rex asks wryly. “You’re effervescent.”
“Yes.” I wave my hands in the air. “I might dance a bit more than usual.”
“Will you be able to sing any sad songs?”
“Maybe not.” At his look of concern, I add quickly, “Yes, I can. Are you expecting scouts?”
“Hope springs eternal,” Ling says.
“I do think I’m closer than I’ve ever been,” Rex says. “The thing is, one guy said maybe I should focus on being a lyricist—because my lyrics are good. And you know, I’d be good with that. I love writing lyrics. I’d still be performing with you guys.”
“Until we need our wheelchairs to roll up onto the stage,” I say. “I’ve always said that you’re brilliant at writing lyrics.”
My mood plummets. I shake my head. He has to work. I can’t be so emotionally vulnerable that his having to work pulls my good mood down.
We finish our set. No William.
I help Rex load up his van with all our equipment. Joel, our manager, and Carrie will help him unload it at his loft.
Rex high-fives me. “It looks like we might both succeed in following our dreams.”
“I’m pretty happy,” I say.
“Only pretty happy?” he asks. “Where is William?”
So it was obvious that I was looking for him in the crowd.
“He said he had to work.”
Rex slides into the front seat. As he closes the door, he says, “I’m sure he did.”
“I’m going to go see him now,” I say.
I take a Citi Bike over to William’s apartment in Tribeca. I don’t text in advance. I don’t want him to say I can’t come over. A queasy feeling has invaded my stomach, like something isn’t working. The same feeling that first took hold last night when William left, but I told myself that I was wrong. He was understandably tired. And then today, he emailed me that he was sorry he’d left and he hoped Peter and I had come up with some good ideas. I took his words at face value. But now that he didn’t show up at my concert, and even worse, didn’t suggest I come over afterward to spend the night together, the nauseated feeling is alive and well in my stomach, tumbling around like socks in a dryer with a tennis ball hitting them.
I push my Citi Bike into the lock. It doesn’t click. I push again. Again, no green light. I wheel it over to another and push it in hard. The green light flashes. I walk over to his apartment building. I buzz his apartment. What if he doesn’t buzz me in?
“Who is it?”
“It’s me,” I say. “Miranda.”
“You’re downstairs?”
That’s not the voice of a man thrilled to see me.
“I came straight here after my show,” I say.
He buzzes me in. I’m overreacting.
I take the elevator up. He’s waiting in the doorway, leaning against the frame. His hair is tousled and he’s wearing a tight-fitting, ribbed shirt. My senses go on high alert. And I have to remind myself that that wasn’t the purpose of my visit. I want to make sure we’re still on solid footing, that I’m imagining this distance between us. But after we establish that, I smile to myself, we can proceed to close any space.
I go to hug him, but he backs up. It’s not my imagination.
The door shuts behind me.
He walks over to his table, which is strewn with papers. At least he really was working.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your work,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow as if in doubt.
And so I jump right in. “I feel like there’s some distance between us, like we’re not connecting.”
“Why do you like me?”
I stop short. I hadn’t expected William to be so blunt.
“I like you so much,” I say.
“Do you really like me? What are you basing it on? You barely knew me when you started coming over.”
“Do you think I’m that shallow?” I ask. “Coming over was the only way I could get to know you better.”
“No. I’m not sure how deep your feelings run,” he says.
“You’re not sure? Hah. I’m the one who’s not sure of your feelings. You literally told me you weren’t sure of your feelings. How can you not be sure of my feelings? Then what are you doing? Is this a fling for you?”
“I don’t do flings.”
“Maybe you used to not do flings. If you’re not sure of my feelings and you think I’m just entertaining myself with you, then what are you doing?”
“I don’t know.”
And there it is.
“How do you not know?” I ask.
“I don’t know if this is going to last long term. And if it’s not going to last, then maybe we should stop here while we can still be friends, while there are all the good feelings from our solving this mystery together. We will have to see each other at family events for years to come.”
I am blindsided. “Did you intend this all along?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “But let’s face it. We could not be more different. You don’t even have any boundaries. You just pop over all the time, even if I say I’m working, like now. And I don’t know anything about the art world, and you couldn’t care less about accounting.”
“I care very much about accounting. You can ask my accountant, Stewart. I send him brownies to show him how much I appreciate him, and he keeps telling me to stop.”
“You’re even making jokes at a time like this,” he says.
“And you’re making excuses,” I say. “You know that whether I know anything about accounting or you know anything about art is not important.”
“Isn’t it? Why were you so worried that I’d break up and date Kiyoko if you didn’t think that she was better suited to me? You already admitted it—that you have doubts about us. So let’s end this.”
I want someone who fights for me. I don’t want to be the one who has to persuade William that I’m worth loving.
“Fine. It was a pleasure dating you.” I put out my hand to shake his.
William steps forward, almost as if involuntarily. His skin pales.
His hand is cold as it grips mine.