Slow Dance

Twenty-Six

Shiloh started bedtime early. She gave the kids warm baths and Sleepytime tea.

Gus fell asleep easily, even with a nap. Maybe Shiloh’s mom was right about three-year-old hormones; Gus ate and slept like

a teenager.

Junie fought bedtime every night, but Shiloh wasn’t having it tonight. “You don’t have to sleep,” she said. “You just have

to close your eyes.”

“My eyes are so boring, ” Junie said.

“If the inside of your head is boring,” Shiloh said, “only you can fix that.”

Cary got there at eight forty-five. He knocked softly.

Shiloh had taken her hair down. It fell to her waist, still damp. She’d changed into a V-necked, mulberry-colored sweater

and nicer jeans. She knew they were just going to talk and be friends, but Cary should know that Shiloh still owned real clothing.

Cary was wearing what he’d been wearing earlier. But his hair looked nicer. He looked like he’d shaved. It hurt Shiloh to

notice.

He was holding a bottle of wine. He held it out to her as soon as she opened the door. “I didn’t want to come empty-handed,”

he said, “but I don’t actually think I should have any of this.”

Shiloh took the bottle. “I’ll save it.”

“Yeah, enjoy it with your mom. Or, you know, whoever.”

She moved out of the doorway. “Come in, Cary.”

He stepped inside. Shiloh had decided not to spend the whole evening frantically cleaning; Cary had already seen her house. She’d made Junie clear the toys out of

the living room, while Shiloh thoroughly cleaned the bathroom...

And then they’d made a cake.

It was sitting on the coffee table on a milky-green glass pedestal, next to a pot of lemongrass tea.

“That looks incredible,” Cary said.

“Sit down and have some.”

“Did you make this?” He sat on the couch. It was royal-blue corduroy.

Shiloh sat on an easy chair. “The kids and I made it. It’s an excellent way to keep them both occupied. Junie likes to measure,

and Gus likes to dump things into bowls.”

Cary frowned at the intact cake. “Did you make cake with your kids and not give them any?”

Shiloh laughed. “There were cupcakes, too.”

He looked a little embarrassed. “Okay, that makes sense.” He reached down and pulled his sweatshirt over his head. He was

wearing a red-and-gold plaid button-down shirt underneath.

Shiloh cut him a slice of cake. She had a fancy silver-plated cake server, the kind you’d get as a wedding gift in 1958. Ryan

had let her keep all their fussy kitchen stuff and thrift-shop silverware.

Cary picked up his fork. “What kind of cake is this?”

“Hummingbird,” Shiloh said. “I should warn you—it’s got a ton of stuff people don’t like. Pineapple, bananas, pecans, cream

cheese icing. I think that’s why nobody makes it anymore.”

“Why’d you make it, then?”

“Because I can.”

“I don’t mind pineapple and bananas—and what else?”

“Pecans.”

“I’m in.” He got himself a bite.

Shiloh poured him a cup of tea and served herself some cake. “We’re so lucky to be able to eat tree nuts,” she said with vigor.

“Do your kids have allergies?”

“No, thank god and knock on wood. It’s a jungle out there.”

“This cake is delicious .” Cary’s mouth was full. “It’s like carrot cake.”

“Yeah, but no carrots.”

“Seriously.” He was smiling. “It’s so good.”

“Don’t be too impressed. There’s no art to baking a cake—it’s just following instructions.”

Cary leaned back, settling into the couch. “Then why do most cakes taste significantly worse than this?”

“Because most people refuse to follow instructions?”

“Well, that’s true. You have me there.”

“There’s no caffeine in the tea,” she said, pointing. “It’s lemongrass.”

“You didn’t have to do all this, Shiloh.”

“I boiled water, Cary. Relax.”

Cary looked relaxed. He looked happy. The cake had been a good decision. Even if the sink was full of dishes.

Shiloh sat back in her chair and ate her cake, letting herself watch him.

He knew she was watching him... He was smiling at his plate.

“What do you do?” she asked.

His eyebrows twitched down. “When?”

“In general. What’s your job?”

“I’m a line officer,” he said. “I help run a ship.”

“Like an actual warship?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, like it was nothing, focused on the cake. “A destroyer.”

“A destroyer, ” Shiloh repeated. “But you don’t live on it?”

“Sometimes I live on it. During a deployment.”

“In a little room?”

His eyes flicked up to her. He looked amused. “In a little room, yes.”

“I thought you were going into the Navy to do nuclear-power stuff.”

“That’s where I started. I’m trained in that. But I went a different route when I got my commission.”

“Because you didn’t like it?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to do something new.”

Shiloh twisted her lips to the side. “I keep trying to picture your life, and I can’t.”

“Most people can’t imagine living on a ship. You get used to it.”

“Do you know I’ve never seen the ocean?”

Cary looked up, stricken. “What? Why not?”

She laughed. “Um, because Nebraska is the most landlocked state in the union? Has your mom seen the ocean?”

He was still stricken. “My mom won’t drive west of Seventy-Second Street—how have you never seen the ocean?”

Shiloh was embarrassed. “It just hasn’t happened, I guess. I only get invited to conferences in Chicago and Orlando and Indianapolis.”

“Orlando is close to the ocean.”

“Yeah, I was gonna go...” She shrugged with her fork. “I was tired.”

Cary was frowning at Shiloh. She could tell he wanted to fix this for her, but he really couldn’t.

“I’ll take the kids someday,” she said. “Junie says she wants to see the whole world. But not Australia. And not space.”

“Why not Australia?”

“Snakes. Spiders.”

“Yeah,” he said, “okay, legit.”

“Have you been to Australia?”

He nodded. “It reminded me of California.”

“You’ll have to tell her that you survived.” Shiloh smiled at him. She had the urge to kick him. “You’ve been to Tokyo, you’ve

been to Australia—have you been to Europe?”

“I have. That’s one thing the Navy is good at. You get around.” He picked up the mug she’d set out for him. It was a souvenir

from Pioneer Village in Minden, Nebraska. Ryan had also let Shiloh take all of her tchotchkes and random old junk. His new

apartment looked like one of the artier Ikea showrooms. Junie said it was “so clean” and “so nice” — “like someone on TV lives there.”

Shiloh would rather not live in an Ikea showroom. She liked old things and bright colors. She liked having too many throw pillows and too many coffee

mugs. She liked rugs. And macramé wall hangings. She liked everything to be a little too much.

She thought of Cary’s mom’s house... with its boxes and bags of detritus. Shiloh should have picked up more before he came over. He was probably desperate for a clean surface.

“What do you do?” Cary asked.

“I...” Shiloh blew out her cheeks. “I told you already, right? I’m an administrator. I hire teachers, I work on educational

programming, sometimes I teach first graders how to do improv...”

Cary smiled. “How’d you get that job?”

“Would you believe it’s the only place I’ve ever worked?”

He looked like he didn’t quite believe it. “Really?”

“Yeah, I got hired there out of college as an actor-slash-teacher. It was seasonal at first, then full-time. And nowwww”—she

drew out the W —“here I am.”

“And you like it?”

“I don’t know,” Shiloh deflected. “I’m lucky to have a full-time theater job, especially in Omaha, Nebraska. I have health

insurance. And I get to wear jeans to work.” She looked down, scrunching up her face and shaking her head.

“What’s wrong?” Cary asked.

“It’s just embarrassing . I kind of hate to tell you all this. I’d rather you remember me the way I was when we were young.”

“Manic and relentless?”

Shiloh kicked him in the ankle. She wasn’t wearing shoes. “Shiny and full of potential!”

He laughed. “You’re still shiny.”

She groaned. “Don’t lie to me, Cary. It makes it worse.”

“Can I have more cake?”

“You can eat the whole thing.”

He cut himself a big piece. “You’re still shiny,” he murmured. He was laughing.

Shiloh watched him. She had plenty of cake left on her own plate. Her eyes felt big and warm. “You were so mad at me last

night...” she whispered. (Because she could never leave well enough alone.)

Cary sat back, slowly. His face was sad when he looked up at her. “Yeah...”

“I’d like for us not to be angry with each other,” she said, still being quiet. “From this point forward.”

Cary was watching her, paying attention.

“Do you think that’s possible?” she asked.

He exhaled and ran a hand up through his hair. “I guess we do pretty well when we’re not... reaching for more.”

Shiloh nodded.

She hated that answer.

It brought tears to her eyes.

“I never meant to hurt you,” she said. “I never knew I hurt you.”

Cary stared at her for a few long seconds. Then he said, “I don’t think we should hold grudges over things that happened when

we were nineteen. We were just kids.”

“Yeah, but—” Shiloh was crying, she wished she wasn’t. “Our whole friendship happened when we were kids. And I want to hold on to all of it.”

He stared at her some more. There were lines in his forehead. “I felt like you used me,” he said. “I wanted you to want more.

But, Shiloh—that’s on me, not you. You weren’t obligated to want more.”

Shiloh felt confused already. Again. “But I— I told you that I loved you.”

“Yeah, and then you sent me packing.”

“I didn’t send you packing!”

Cary set his plate on the table. “I really can’t argue about this anymore.”

“We’re not arguing—we’re talking. We’ve never talked about it!”

He blew out a breath. “Okay. Let’s talk.” He gave her a stern look. “But don’t yell at me.”

“I didn’t send you packing,” Shiloh said again in a level voice. “You were already packed.”

He looked annoyed. “In the sense that I had just enlisted in the Navy, that’s correct. I’d spent eight weeks in boot camp and the main thing I learned there was that I wanted to be with you. I couldn’t get to you fast enough.”

She frowned at him. “You never told me that.”

He lifted up his hands. “I showed up at your door with my seabag and fell at your feet.”

“You didn’t fall anywhere, Cary.”

Cary still looked annoyed, but now he looked fierce about it. He leaned toward her, over his knees. “We spent two days in

bed, Shiloh—I was head over heels. I would have done anything for you.”

Shiloh’s mouth opened.

This was all news to her. Shocking news. She didn’t remember that weekend perfectly, but she would have remembered... “You

didn’t say any of that.”

“I would have had to interrupt you telling me it was nothing.” Cary was cold. “I’m pretty sure you told me that sex was a

construct.”

“I know that I said—well, I don’t think I said sex was a construct—but I know I said a lot of complete bullshit that weekend.

I was just scared, Cary. I didn’t want you to reject me.”

“In what way was I rejecting you?”

“You’d never shown any interest in me before!”

He scoffed. “Shiloh, the whole world thought we were dating.”

“Well, I knew that we weren’t . You never made a move toward me in high school.”

“How could I have gotten any closer to you than I already was?”

“Cary,” she said, like he wasn’t being fair.

He was upset. “You didn’t want me to make a move, did you? I don’t remember you ever giving me a hint or an opening.”

“You had a girlfriend.”

“I had a girlfriend for three months.”

“Well, it wasn’t me. It was never me.”

Cary sat back. Forcefully. A needlepoint throw pillow fell off the couch. “I didn’t want us to date in high school! I liked what we had, and I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Okay,” Shiloh said, relenting.

His legs and arms were tense, like his whole body was frustrated. “I thought we were beyond dating,” he said. “That we would just be together someday, when we were ready.”

Shiloh’s mouth hung open. She felt like there’d been a hook in her throat, and Cary had just ripped it out.

He ran his hands through his hair.

Shiloh waited to find words, but all she could do was repeat herself: “You never told me that you felt that way.”

Cary’s shoulders sagged. “I thought you felt it, too. I hoped you did. And then... when I came to see you, you told me

what you actually wanted.”

“No,” Shiloh said.

“No?”

“I was giving you an out, ” she said. “I didn’t want to spoil your plans. You had planned this whole life without me.”

That made Cary stick his tongue in his cheek. “People in the Navy are allowed to fall in love,” he said. “I wasn’t going to

prison . You’re the one who wanted something different. You made your feelings really clear.”

“And you didn’t !” Shiloh was furious now and unable to contain it. “Not once! I know I said a lot of garbage, Cary, but I also know that

I opened my heart to you. I remember . Was I supposed to read your mind?”

“You were supposed to read my actions!”

“Okay, well—you left.”

“My actions before that.”

“Oh my god...” Shiloh brought both feet up onto the chair and hid her face in her hands. She was too upset to talk.

Cary was in no hurry to break the silence. They sat there for long minutes, both of them breathing loud.

Shiloh kept thinking of new objections... Of all the things Cary hadn’t said. And all the times he hadn’t said them.

The night they graduated from high school, Cary and Mikey and Shiloh had stayed out all night on Mikey’s back deck. Mikey

fell asleep, and Cary and Shiloh lay there on a spread-out sleeping bag, looking up at the stars, then watching the sun rise—and

Cary had never once said they were “ beyond dating .”

They sat a hundred nights in Shiloh’s driveway, a thousand afternoons on her front steps.

The day he walked away from her, she lost her best friend and her true love, and she still wasn’t sure how she was supposed

to have stopped him.

This wasn’t a problem Shiloh could solve at thirty-three. At nineteen, she didn’t have a chance.

She’d never had a chance.

“You’re right,” Cary said.

Shiloh lifted her head—she wasn’t expecting him to be the first to speak.

Cary looked tired, like the fight had gone out of him. “I’m sorry,” he said, meeting her eyes. Then he looked down. “I should

have been more clear, when I came to see you—even if I still don’t believe that you wanted to hear it.”

Shiloh sat very still.

“I should have said...” His words sounded carefully measured. He was staring at his lap. “‘Shiloh, I think that we’re meant

to be together. I know you don’t want me to join the Navy and that this isn’t the life you want for yourself. But I’m still

yours, if you’ll have me.’”

It was a terrible thing to hear...

Fourteen years after it was true.

Tears streamed down Shiloh’s cheeks.

“What would you have said,” Cary asked, before she’d gathered her senses, “if you had been being honest that weekend?”

He hung his head while he waited for her to answer.

It took a while.

Shiloh’s voice was hollow when she finally found it. She looked at the ceiling.

“I would have said—‘Cary, I’m in love with you, and I’m so scared to lose you. I don’t know where I fit in your life. I’m

yours for the taking, but... I don’t think you’ll ever take me.’”

Cary exhaled hard. Like he hadn’t really wanted to hear that.

Shiloh could sympathize.

“To be fair...” She still couldn’t face him. “I think it’s taken me this long to put that into words.”

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “Me too.”

Shiloh turned in the chair so she could lean her forehead on one of its arms. She’d gotten very practiced at long, terrible

conversations at the end of her marriage. She had two or three favorite crash positions.

“Hey,” Cary said.

“What.”

“Look at me.”

Shiloh looked up.

He looked utterly defeated. And incredibly handsome.

He held out his hand. “Come here.”

She sucked on her lip for a second. Then she took his hand.

Cary pulled her onto the couch and put his arm around her shoulder, holding her close. He pressed his face into the top of

her head and kissed her there.

After a minute, Shiloh wrapped an arm around his waist, curling against his chest.

Could she have had this? Then?

And since then?

No. Even if she’d gotten it right at nineteen, she would have fucked it up at some other point in the timeline. Shiloh had

no confidence in her ability to hold on to someone else’s heart.

Cary kept squeezing her long after her own arm would have given out. And then he just held her. He rested his head on hers, and put his other arm around her, too.

He kept exhaling long, expressive breaths. Like, “What a mess.” And “Jesus Christ.” And “Here we are, I guess.”

Shiloh felt dozy. Crying always wore her out, and Cary’s arms offered some temporary respite. She wasn’t looking forward to

whatever came next.

When Cary eventually lifted his head and touched her chin, Shiloh almost pretended to be asleep.

She looked up at him.

He looked sad.

He leaned forward an inch and kissed her.

Shiloh wasn’t expecting it, but she kissed him back—and immediately started crying again.

Cary kissed her through it. Long, sad kisses, with his hand cupped around the back of her head. These were kisses without

hopes or ambitions. They were apologies. Eulogies. Shiloh’s tears slid into the corner of her mouth. Cary licked them.

When she realized that he wasn’t stopping, Shiloh sat up a little, making her mouth more available. Cary hummed and squeezed

her neck. She gripped one hand in the front of his shirt. He kissed her and kissed her. If she emptied her head in his lap,

all that would fall out was his name.

They sat on the couch and kissed goodbye for an hour or so. In another context, it would have been wonderful.

Even in this context, kissing Cary was fairly wonderful.

He was gentle and attentive. He rubbed her back and stroked her hair. And he didn’t mind being in charge—she could just let

herself feel it all and respond.

Shiloh pulled back when her mom’s headlights slid across the front picture window. She moved a few inches away from him.

Cary kept his arm around her shoulder. He rubbed his mouth.

Shiloh wiped her eyes. She adjusted her sweater. She tracked her mom’s progress up the steps—the slam of the porch door, her keys in the lock.

Her mom startled when she saw Shiloh and Cary on the couch together. “Oh,” she said. “Cary. What a nice surprise.”

Cary nodded.

“We were just having some cake,” Shiloh said. “Would you like a piece?”

“Thanks”—her mom leaned over to take off her ankle boots—“but I’m going to fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.”

That was a lie. She was going to drink a glass of wine and read half a romance novel.

“Good night,” Shiloh said.

“Good to see you again, Gloria,” Cary said in a gravelly voice.

“You too. You are welcome here anytime, Cary. Whenever you’re in town.”

Shiloh’s stomach clenched painfully.

Her mom walked past the table and then stopped. “Is that hummingbird cake?”

“Junie and I made it.”

“Okay, well...” Her mom leaned over and cut a slice of cake, plopping it onto her palm. “I will take a piece, but I’m still

going to bed. Good night, good night.”

“Good night,” they both said.

She disappeared into her room.

Cary leaned forward to pick up his mug from the table. He kept his hand on Shiloh’s shoulder while he took a drink.

“Do you want me to heat that up for you?” she asked.

“No. Stay here with me.” He poured more cold tea into the mug and handed it to her. Shiloh took it and drank some. Cary picked

up his plate—there was still a lot of cake on it—and sat back, finally letting go of Shiloh but still settling against her.

He held his fork out to her with a bite of cake.

Shiloh met his eyes over his hand. He looked pretty wrung out, honestly. But he still looked like he liked her. She took the bite, covering her mouth. “Do you have to get home?” she asked, even though the last thing she wanted was for him to leave.

“No,” Cary said, “I have to eat this entire cake.”

Shiloh smiled. She watched him eat a few more bites of cake, shaking her head when he offered her more. “So...” She tried

to think of something practical to say. Something conversational. “You’ll be able to manage your mom’s bills now?”

“Most of them.” Cary cleared his throat. He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Will the rest of your family be mad?”

“Not in a way I’ll have to deal with. They count on me to bail Mom out.” He glanced up from the cake, frowning. “My older

sister, Jenny, thinks I’m trying to get the house—I don’t care about that house. Though I am going to sell it the minute Mom needs long-term care. So maybe Jenny’s right about me.”

“I’ve always wanted siblings,” Shiloh said, “but I guess Mom and I at least have clarity. We know it’s just the two of us.”

He eyed her. “You seem like you’re making it work.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “better than I would have expected. We got a lot of our fighting out of the way when I was pregnant with

Junie.”

“Why then?”

Shiloh kept her voice down. “Because I was terrified of becoming just like her!”

Cary shook his head. “That was never going to happen. I knew you were going to be a great mom.”

“ How? You just called me manic and incessant.”

“I said ‘relentless.’ And I knew, because you don’t shirk. You like being in charge of things.”

“You should talk, Cary.”

He shrugged, like he was fine with owning that. “When’d you move back here?”

“Two and a half years ago,” Shiloh said.

“Wow. Gus must have been...”

“Two months old.”

Cary’s eyes were wide with pity. (It had been an ugly, bloody time to get a divorce. That much was obvious.)

Shiloh smiled tightly.

“Is Gus his full name?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Cary looked down, like he was trying not to laugh.

She elbowed him. “Don’t make fun of my child’s name. That’s so rude.”

“I’m not .” He was still smiling with his mouth closed. “It’s just very you of you.”

“‘Gus’ is a good name.”

“So is ‘Juniper.’” Cary grinned. “You picked that one out in high school.”

“This is very rude...”

He shook his head in denial, his eyes sparkling. “I like it. I like that you haven’t changed.”

She was affronted. “I’ve changed a lot!”

“No,” he said, “you’ve grown.”

“Oh, pffft, you don’t know, Cary...”

“I don’t know why you’re arguing with me. It’s a compliment.” He tilted his head. “Have I changed?”

Shiloh looked at him. Her eyes got soft. She shook her head.

Cary smiled wide again.

“But you’re still full of surprises,” she said.

“Sure—because I could have grown in an entirely different direction.”

“Yeah,” Shiloh said. “I guess so.”

Cary finished the slice of cake on his plate and set it down on the table. Then he sat back, holding his arm out. Shiloh leaned

into him again, and he hugged her close. She could get used to this...

She was never going to get a chance to get used to this.

He tipped his head against hers. They were facing forward. Shiloh could see their reflection in the television. She watched them both get sad again.

All of their talking—and kissing—had helped them put their past in context. But it didn’t do anything for their future.

“I’ve got a sea deployment in March,” Cary said, reading her mind. That was in two months.

She turned her head to face him. “What’s that mean to a civilian?”

“It means I’ll literally be on the ocean for six months.”

“Six months? That’s so long .”

“It’s normal.”

“Normal is long.”

“I’m coming home for Christmas,” he said. “Maybe you and Mikey and I... you know, we could get together?”

Shiloh’s eyes flooded with tears. “I would love that.”

Cary was telling her what they could have together. It was much less than Shiloh wanted—but still so much more than she’d

expected a few hours ago.

He gave her one last squeeze, and then he stood up. He held out a hand to Shiloh, and she took it. She stood up with him.

Cary put his hands on his hips. “I’m glad I got to meet your kids.”

“Me too. I’m glad we... ended up here, I guess.”

“Me too.” Cary leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Let me get my keys,” Shiloh said, her voice breaking.

“I’ll just walk.”

“It’s too late, no.”

“Shiloh, I’m a grown man and a Naval officer.”

“Tell that to the kid with a gun who wants your cell phone.”

Cary let her drive him home. She gave him one of her business cards before he got out. “Call me if you ever need a pair of

hands in Omaha.”

He nodded and put the card in his pocket. “Good night, Shiloh.”

“Good night, Cary.”