Slow Dance

Fourteen

before

She came rushing out of the elevator, and Cary stood a little taller. His mouth was dry. He swallowed.

Shiloh looked different. She’d cut her hair—it hung in a blunt shelf at her jaw—and she had bangs now. It made her look like

someone in a foreign movie. And she was thinner. Her chin jutted out of her face. She was wearing a dress that Cary had never

seen before—it was too tight over her chest and too short above her knees. She had on tights, but still. He wasn’t used to

seeing Shiloh’s legs. He wasn’t used to this Shiloh at all.

She looked impatient; that at least was familiar. This was familiar—the way she was standing, with her hands on her hips, looking around the lobby like she was trying to find something

wrong with it.

She walked past him toward the door.

He grabbed her forearm. “Hey.”

Shiloh jumped away from him, no sign of recognition in her eyes.

“Hey,” Cary said again, softer.

Her eyes got big. And then her mouth opened. “Cary...”

“Hey,” he said a third time.

He knew he was changed. He’d been worried about it the whole way here. The uniform. The hair. Everyone who came through the

lobby had looked at him like he didn’t belong here. Like he must be here for some strange and specific reason.

Shiloh’s eyes were jumping all over him. His shoes. His tie. The single decoration that he got for showing up.

“ Hey, ” she said finally. Like his friend.

They’d never hugged before, so Cary didn’t try to hug her. But he relaxed. He was relieved.

“I wasn’t expecting...” She gestured at him. “Do you have to wear this?”

“No,” he said. “I just... You go to boot camp with the clothes on your back. This is all I really have at the moment.”

He could have worn his dress blues, but they would have called even more attention to him. He’d gone with the winter blues:

Button-down shirt. Pants. Tie. All in a navy blue so dark, it may as well be black.

Shiloh was looking at his chest. She touched his shoulder quickly. Then tugged on his tie. He waited for her to say he looked

like an SS officer. (Shiloh really knew nothing about military uniforms.) “It’s nice,” she said. “You look nice.”

“Is there a reason you won’t look me in the eye?”

She held on to his tie and laughed, still not looking up at him. “I’m kind of freaked out by your hair .”

Cary laughed. He was blushing. He picked up his duffel bag. Shiloh let go of his tie.

“Come on,” she said, walking toward the elevator.

“Don’t you have to check me in?”

“Nope. We’re libertines here.”

“Did you talk to your roommate yet?”

“I haven’t seen her—but don’t worry.” They were the only people on the elevator. Shiloh pushed a button.

“You cut your hair, too,” Cary said. “I thought you were going to shave it.”

She touched the edges and frowned. “I chickened out. I didn’t want that to be the thing that people know me by, like, forever.

The bald girl. Like Sinéad O’Connor. So that I’d never look normal with hair again.”

Shiloh’s hair was dark, dark brown and very, very straight. It had always been long, as long as Cary had known her, and had always seemed a little too thick to be manageable. He’d seen her break elastic bands trying to tie it back. She had thick, dark eyebrows, too, and dark hair on her arms. Her mom said that her dad might have been Greek. “My dad might have been anyone, ” Shiloh would say. Now that her hair was short, it looked even thicker. Like a wedge.

“You don’t like it, do you?” She led him off the elevator, spinning to walk backwards, facing him.

“It looks fine,” Cary said.

“But you liked it better before?”

“I don’t have any opinions about your hair.” He liked everything about her, however it was. That had been true since they

met.

She spun to the front again. “I’m growing it out. I think it makes me look perky.”

“What’s wrong with perky?”

“Nobody takes perky seriously.”

They were already at her door. Cary had never been in a college dormitory before. It was pretty much what you’d expect. Like

a hotel.

Shiloh let him into her room. It was small. There was space for two beds, two desks, a rug, and a little TV.

“You can sit on the bed,” she said. “Or the desk chair. Sit wherever. I don’t have anything to drink. I could buy you a Coke.”

“I’m okay.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sit down, Cary.”

“I’m waiting for you to sit.”

“Oh my god,” she said, sitting on the floor. Folding those long legs.

Cary didn’t think he’d ever really seen Shiloh’s legs before. They were as long as his and probably thicker. Sweet at the

knees and the ankles. He sat on the bed, facing her, trying not to stare at them.

“Was boot camp terrible?” she asked.

He shrugged. “It was fine.”

“You said people died.”

“I said people didn’t graduate... ”

“What happened to them? Why couldn’t they get through?”

Cary really didn’t want to get into this. Boot camp was over. He was ready to leave it behind. “They took it too personally.

They let it get under their skin.”

“And you didn’t?”

“No. It wasn’t about me.”

Shiloh laughed. “‘ Boot camp, three stars. It wasn’t about me. ’”

“Nothing in the Navy is about me,” Cary said. “I’m just a component in a larger machine.”

“I would lose my mind, ” she said, making a long face.

He smiled. “You would.”

“But you haven’t?” She seemed worried. She kicked a foot out, not quite touching him.

He shook his head. “It’s what I expected.” Regimented. Rigorous. Impersonal. Cary went to work, and then he went to sleep.

And he tried to keep his head down in the moments between.

“You weren’t homesick?”

“Um...” He wasn’t sure how to answer that.

Cary missed his mom, but he didn’t miss their house. He didn’t miss his sisters—maybe he would eventually. He didn’t miss

school or Omaha.

He missed his first name. He missed Mikey. He missed driving. He missed regular clothes. Regular food. Godfather’s pizza.

He missed Shiloh.

He’d known he was going to—but it was so much worse than he’d expected. Her letters made it worse. Everyone else had faded

so fast. High school already felt like ancient history. But nothing about Shiloh had faded. If anything, her memory had taken

on sharp edges. Even seeing her now made him miss her.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I guess. Tell me about all this. About college.”

“I’ve already told you about it in my letters.”

“That makes it easier,” Cary said. “We’re not starting from zero.”

Shiloh smiled big at him. So he could see her bottom row of teeth. If he was closer, he’d see how crooked they were. “Good point,” she said.

It was never hard to get Shiloh talking. Cary settled back against the wall to listen.

She told him about her roommate. About her classes. About her failed auditions at the campus theater. “They almost never cast

freshmen.”

She loved the dorms. She loved being on her own. She didn’t miss her mom, much. Or the neighborhood. She missed Mikey.

She kept reaching for Cary as she talked. Just gesturing. Never making contact.

Cary had lots of practice listening to Shiloh talk. He could follow the thread of it even while his mind wandered. She’d tell

you when she wanted feedback. “That was a question, Cary.”

Shiloh had a nervous way of talking. Her sentences piled up on each other and spiraled. She’d chase an idea in several different

directions...

It drove Mikey crazy sometimes. There were times when he’d say, “No Shiloh tonight—I’ve got enough noise in my head.”

Cary had a much higher tolerance. You didn’t have to spiral with Shiloh. You could just watch. You could just listen.

Even when she drove him crazy, he didn’t exactly want less of her.

While she talked today, he tried to figure out what was different about her... Besides the hair. Besides the short skirt.

She seemed easier than he remembered her.

Less frustrated.

“You’re happy here,” he said.

Shiloh wrinkled her nose. She swatted at him, almost touching his leg. “What do you mean?”

“You seem really happy,” Cary said. “You seem like you like it.”

She smiled. “Well, I just...” She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I do.” She got up onto her knees. Her skirt inched up. She pushed her hair behind her ears, and it immediately slid out. “I kind of feel bad saying this to you, because of where you are, and where you’re headed—but I feel like my time is my own here, you know? Like, my life is my own. So many freshmen hate it. They go home all the time—or they drop out. Becky was

here, and she’s already gone. And, you know, I am lonely sometimes. A lot. Actually. But... even the food. I can eat what I want, when I want. I’m responsible for everything.

I’ve got this scholarship and my job, and I don’t need to ask anyone for help. I don’t ever need a ride, there are buses.

You know?”

Cary nodded. “I’m glad.”

“You’re glad not to have to drive me around?”

“I’m glad you’re happy.”

She moved her legs, flopping back down onto her butt. “It’s stupid, right? This isn’t even a great school, I guess. It’s just

Iowa. But I still feel like I’m living la vie en rose . I’m, like, wearing a beret and smoking cigarettes and feeling like an adult human female.”

“Are you smoking cigarettes?”

“No. Those were metaphorical cigarettes.”

“Is the beret metaphorical, too?”

Shiloh kicked him and made contact. “The beret is real.”

Cary laughed.

“Shut up.” She kicked him again. She was wearing shoes with buckles.

“Stop,” he said. “You’re going to scuff my pants, and I can’t wash them.”

She grinned. “ You have a little beret tucked into your belt... Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“That’s a flat cap. There are no berets in the Navy.”

Shiloh climbed up onto the bed next to him, kicking off her shoes. “Let me see it on.”

“I want to see you in your beret. Go get it.”

She pushed his shoulder. “Let me see it, Cary.”

“No. I’m not supposed to wear it indoors.”

“Let me try it on, then.”

He would like that, but it wasn’t happening.

Shiloh’s brown eyes were very wide and sparkly. Her tongue was peeking out of her mouth.

He pointed at her. “I know you’re about to grab my cap. But I’m telling you now—don’t.”

She grabbed his finger. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

He pulled it away. “I’m not telling you what to do; I’m drawing a line.”

Shiloh poked his shoulder. “When you tell me what to do, it just makes me want to do it.”

“Because you’re irrational and possibly need meds. Don’t mess with my uniform.”

“Is it a federal law?” she asked. “Like mail tampering?”

“Yeah.”

“Liar.” She pulled on his sleeve. “Is this messing with your uniform?”

“Yes.”

She poked his arm. He ignored it. “I don’t need meds, ” she said.

“You need something.”

She poked him harder.

“ Stop, ” he said. “That hurts.”

“That doesn’t hurt.” She did it again. “Does that really hurt?”

“It doesn’t feel good.”

Her face fell. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.” She patted his shoulder. “Cary, I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

“Honestly,” she said, petting him some more. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay. Shut up. It’s fine.”

She smoothed his sleeve down. “Is this the uniform you wear all the time?”

“No. I’ve never worn it before. It’s a little formal. But we can wear it when we travel.”

“It’s nice. I mean, it’s nice on you. Can I take your picture?”

“Now?”

“Yeah,” she said, “before I ruin your fancy uniform.”

“I’m not letting you ruin it.”

She stood up and got a camera out of her desk. It was a little pink point-and-shoot. Shiloh always had a camera.

Cary sat up straighter. “Like this?”

She was looking at him through the lens. “Yeah. I’ll send you copies of these for your mom.”

“I think I should stand up.”

“Wait.” The flash went off. “Okay, stand up. Look official.”

Cary stood. He adjusted his tie.

“In front of the wall,” Shiloh said.

He did what she told him to.

“Smile,” she said. “This isn’t the Civil War.”

Cary smiled. “We have to take one together,” he said. “We’ll send it to Mikey.”

“Yeah!” Shiloh looked around the room. “I guess... We can try it in the mirror.” She stood partly in front of Cary, so

they’d both fit into the long mirror on her door. She looked through the viewfinder. “I’m blocking you.”

“It’s okay.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. “It’s good.”

“I hope Mikey doesn’t hate my hair.” Shiloh moved the camera off her face and snapped the picture. “I’m not sure that will

turn out. Maybe Darla can take one of us later.”

Cary watched her reflection. “And you’ll send me copies?”

“Yeah.”

She turned to him, slipping the camera into her pocket, and looked up at his head. “I’m used to your hair now. It took a minute.”

She was an inch or two shorter than him in her stocking feet. He looked down into her eyes.

“I’m not used to seeing so much of your face,” she said. “Did you cry when they cut it?”

“No. Some of the female recruits cry.”

“They make the girls shave their heads?”

“They cut it to their collars. Like yours.”

Shiloh touched the back of her hair, self-consciously. Then she reached up past Cary’s cheek.

He didn’t flinch. “Sorry there’s nothing left for you to pull...”

She touched the bristly hair over his ear—freshly cropped just before graduation—and ran her fingers along his scalp.

She shivered.

Then she moved her hand to the top of his head. “Aren’t you going to tell me to stop?”

He shook his head, just barely. “No.”

Shiloh stroked his hair against the grain and shivered again, like she couldn’t help it. He’d seen her do this before with

velvet. With milkweed floss. One time, with the broken edge of a bowl.

She brought her other hand up and rubbed both of his temples. “You’re lucky you have such a nice head.”

Cary hummed a short syllable. He was just going to breathe through this.

“I do miss your hair though,” she whispered. “It’s a totally different color now. It’s darker—hardly blond at all. That’s

weird, huh?”

He nodded.

She shivered from her head through her shoulders.

He put his hands on her waist to steady her. “Are you torturing yourself?”

“No,” she said, defensively. “I like it.”

She stroked with all ten fingertips from his forehead to the back of his neck. Cary cast his eyes down between them—he wasn’t

sure which game this was.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Your face looks different,” she said. “Your eyes are so big now.”

“My eyes are the same size.”

“I’ve got eye-witness testimony to the contrary.”

She stroked his scalp. Cary shivered. Shiloh laughed out a breath.

“ Eye -witness,” she said, “get it?”

He nodded.

“Cary...” she whispered.

He lifted his gaze to hers. She looked nervous. She was swaying a little.

“I missed you,” she said.

“I missed you, too, Shiloh.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

“It was just boot camp.”

“I know, but still. Is it weird that I didn’t even realize how much I missed you until I saw you again? Like, I saw you, and

I realized I had a hole in my chest—when I’d thought all along I was fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. I... I think I’ve just gotten used to talking to people who don’t matter. And then I looked at you and remembered

what it felt like to care about someone.”

“Shiloh...” He squeezed her waist. “I’ve really missed you.”

“You’re lucky you have such a good head,” she said again. “Such a good face...” She touched his cheeks. His nose. His chin.

He wasn’t sure what game she was playing.

He wasn’t sure this was a game.

Shiloh looked like she might cry.

Cary leaned forward and kissed her.