Slow Dance

Twenty-Seven

Mikey was as good as his threats. A few months after the wedding, Shiloh was invited to his house—Janine’s house?—for dinner.

Shiloh had a hard time finding a parking spot on their block.

Mike and Janine lived in a nicer part of North Omaha than Shiloh, a quiet neighborhood near the river. They had a big old

house set back from the street and surrounded by trees. There was music playing outdoors, even though it was still cold. March.

Shiloh walked up the front steps. She was carrying the wine Cary had left at her house.

A couple was standing on the porch, quietly arguing. Shiloh could see the shadows of other people inside. She almost turned

around—this was supposed to be a small dinner.

The front door was open. Shiloh opened the storm door and edged inside, head first. There were people sitting on the staircase,

just inside the foyer. And people in the living room, eating cheese and bread and drinking wine. They all looked very comfortable

and very interesting. Omaha interesting. Like, people who worked at artisan jewelry stores downtown or taught college poetry.

A couple of Mikey’s paintings dominated the room—black and white, abstract, with photorealistic faces hidden in strange places.

They were huge, propped up against the walls and nearly as tall as the ceiling. These must not be for sale—how would he ever

get them out?

Shiloh was still thinking of turning around when a very pregnant blond woman walked into the room with a tray of more cheese.

“Shiloh?” the woman said.

Shiloh looked at her for a second. “Janine?”

“That’s me. Oh my god—Mike is going to be so happy that you came!”

Shiloh nodded. “It’s great to finally meet you.” Had they met in high school? Hopefully they hadn’t met in high school. “I saw you from afar at the reception...”

Janine looked less glossy than she had at the wedding, but still very pretty. She had long blond hair and big blue eyes. Shiny

pink skin. She was wearing jeans and a clingy black T-shirt with a blue blazer over it—like, Friday-casual pregnancy chic.

It was working for her.

“Yeah, sorry...” Janine said. “I was so preoccupied that night. Then again”—she smiled—“so were you.”

Shiloh laughed uncomfortably.

Janine set down the cheese and took Shiloh’s arm. “Let’s go find Mike.”

They walked through the dining room and the kitchen. Shiloh liked their house. The furniture was simple, the walls were white,

and there was art everywhere.

Janine led her out the back door. This is where the music was playing. There was a big fire pit, and people were gathered

around it, wearing warm coats and stocking caps, and drinking beer.

Mikey was standing by the grill—cooking sausage, it looked like.

“Mike!” Janine called out. “Look who I found.”

His face lit up. “Shiloh!” He reached out to her with the hand that wasn’t holding barbecue tongs.

“Hey,” Shiloh said, hugging him. “You didn’t tell me this was a party.”

He winked. “If I’d told you it was a party, you wouldn’t have come.”

“That is one-hundred-percent correct,” Shiloh said, looking out at the yard and grimacing.

Mikey grinned. “I thought it would be good for you to meet some people. Some cool Omaha people. Artists. Writers. Thinkers.”

“Mike, I work in community theater. My life is lousy with artists, writers and thinkers. Literally lousy. Like, I have to have my office sprayed twice a year.”

“Wow,” Janine said, looking at him. “She really is just like Cary. You weren’t kidding.”

Mikey shook his head, still smiling. “Two peas who won’t leave the fucking pod.”

“I left the pod,” Shiloh said. “I’m here. I brought you wine.”

He took it from her. “Thank you, Shiloh. You want some? You want a beer? Hot cider? You want a sausage? They’re from Stoysich.”

Stoysich was a local meat place. And Mikey was wearing a vintage sweatshirt from a defunct Omaha brewery. He was apparently

getting back to his roots. Maybe Omaha got charming as soon as you left.

She sighed. “Sure. I’ll take a sausage.”

“I got these rolls at Orsi’s,” he said, picking up a bun.

“Stoysich, Orsi’s. Is Warren Buffett here? Is Bright Eyes playing later?”

Mikey rolled his eyes and handed her the sausage. Janine had stepped away from them to talk to someone else.

“Hey...” Shiloh dropped her voice and nodded her head toward Janine. “Congratulations. I didn’t know...”

“Didn’t Cary tell you?” Mikey was grinning again. “Shotgun wedding.”

“I’m happy for you,” Shiloh said sincerely.

“Thanks,” he said, also sincere and a little embarrassed about it. He bumped his hip against hers. “Thanks, Shy.” He went

back to the grill. “It was kind of an accident, if I’m being honest. But then we were like, Fuck yeah. Let’s just do this! Like, probably this is the best thing that’s ever happened, you know?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Good for you. I’ll set you up with free toddler classes at the theater. We’ve got voice, movement, pop-and-lock

dancing...”

Mikey pointed the tongs at her. “I have a feeling that’s probably a great gift. Thank you. You’re like one of the fairy godmothers

who brings the good shit. The blessings.”

“So you’re really back in Omaha...”

“Yeah.” He nodded deeply. “At least part-time. I need to be in New York sometimes, for the business stuff. And the parties. But I can paint here.” He looked like he was sharing an epiphany with her. “I mean, I can really paint here. It’s so quiet. And so far from anyone who wants something from me.”

“That’ll last approximately... when is Janine due? Two months?”

“Ha!” Mikey said. “ Right? Right, right, right.” He turned a row of sausages. “That’s okay. I’m up for it.”

“Yeah, you are,” Shiloh said, encouraging. “You’ll be a great dad.”

He looked up at her, wrinkling his nose a little. “Do you really think so?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? Be specific.”

“Um...” Shiloh clicked her tongue a few times. “Okay. You’re fun.” She looked around—at the still-very-aggravating party

scenario. “And you can lie with a straight face. That’ll come in handy.”

He pointed his tongs at her again. “You are going to have so much fun at this party. I swear to god, Shiloh.”

Shiloh did not have so much fun at the party.

She stood by the fire pit and listened to people talk about whether the city would ever get streetcars and how to get a permit

for backyard chicken coops.

Then she went inside and listened to people talk about a controversial foundation that was bankrolling tacky—but not the good kind of tacky—public art.

Then she went back outside and listened to the chicken coop stuff again. Apparently you had to be careful about raccoons.

These were all perfectly good things to talk about. These were probably good, interesting people.

But Shiloh was done meeting new people. For life.

Her mom was right, you couldn’t make new old friends—but Shiloh wasn’t in the market for new new ones either.

The prospect of meeting someone and small-talking and then fol lowing up with them... building tentative bonds, building trust, developing inside jokes... learning the names of their spouses, their kids, their coworkers...

Shiloh honestly couldn’t imagine getting through all those steps.

She’d never done it before. Shiloh made friends in school and at work, with people she was trapped with all the time anyway. The idea

of making friends in the wild? Inconceivable. And completely unappealing.

If Shiloh wanted friends, she’d rather reach out to all the people she already liked and rarely got a chance to see.

The party moved inside as it got colder. There was talk of charades. Shiloh was, of course, fucking phenomenal at charades. But she would rather swallow a tick than play charades with strangers. For free .

She found a spot by what was left of the fire and drank what was left of her apple cider.

She wanted to go home, but she didn’t want to walk through the house and have to say goodbye to everyone. Maybe she could

squeeze through the bushes on the side of the house.

The back door swung open. Shiloh recognized Mikey’s silhouette.

He headed out toward her. She blew air into her closed lips.

“There you are,” he said, when he got close enough.

“Here I am,” Shiloh agreed.

He sat down next to her—she was sitting on a flattened-out log—holding his hands up to the fire. “You really hate parties,

don’t you?”

“I really do,” she said.

“I thought maybe you’d like it once you were actually here and saw how nice it was...”

“Sorry, Mikey. I didn’t mean to be rude to your friends.”

“You weren’t rude to my friends. Everybody likes you. One of our neighbors really likes you. He thinks you look like a young Cher... which is very generous in my opinion.”

Shiloh smiled.

Mikey picked up a stick to poke at the fire. “You weren’t being rude, but I—as one of your oldest friends—could still perceive that you weren’t having a good time.”

“What gave me away? Was it the sitting alone in the dark?”

He grinned. “It was, yeah. Then I remembered that time that you hid in the bathroom for an hour at Tanya’s New Year’s Eve

party...”

“Her house had two bathrooms.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Next time we’ll do dinner. For real.”

“It’s okay. It’s probably good for me to get out, even if I’m not talking to anyone. And it was great to meet Janine—and to

see you doing so well.”

“Janine’s the best.”

“I can tell.” Shiloh meant it. Janine seemed down-to-earth, laid-back. She laughed at Mikey’s constant jokes without laughing

too much . And he seemed totally besotted with her.

Mikey looked at Shiloh out of the corner of his eye. He was smiling. “So... how are things with you and our friend Cary?”

“Uh...” Shiloh shrugged. “We’re fine? Why, what has Cary told you?”

“Cary hasn’t told me anything—he’s a gentleman. He won’t ever talk about you. But you’re no gentleman, Shiloh. Give me the

goods.”

She shook her head. “There are no goods.”

Mikey tipped his head, squinting one eye. “Uhhh, maybe I’d believe that if I hadn’t seen you filming a romantic comedy at

my own wedding reception. Like, seriously. It was my wedding, but you guys got voted Cutest Couple.”

Shiloh looked at the fire. She was embarrassed. It was probably rude to make a lovey-dovey scene at someone else’s wedding.

“I don’t know what to tell you—nothing happened.”

Mikey made another face. “ Nothing nothing?”

“Nothing-ish,” she said. “We just talked.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Okay, how about this...” She held out her arms. “We dug up our past and laid it all out on clean tarps, trying to figure out what sort of natural disaster had come through and destroyed everything.”

Mikey nodded. He looked disappointed. “Okay, that I believe. That sounds like you. Both of you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you overthink things—and Cary holds a grudge.”

“I’m making it sound worse than it was,” Shiloh said, kicking at a rock next to the fire. “It was good, actually. To clear

things up with him. It was the first real conversation we’ve had in years.”

Mikey shook his head, like that bothered him.

“ What, ” she demanded.

“I thought you guys finally got your act together that night. I was ready to take credit.”

“We kind of did, ” she said. “I think Cary and I are just supposed to be friends.”

“Bull-shit,” Mikey said, stretching out the syllables.

“You don’t get to say that’s bullshit.”

“As the person who chaperoned you for five years, I absolutely do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looked pained. “Oh, come on, Shiloh, you know what it means.”

“Cary and I never dated in high school.”

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t understand why.”

She shrugged. “We were friends.”

“No.” He motioned between them with his fire stick. “ We were friends. You and Cary were caught up in some sexually charged will-they, won’t-they fuckery.”

“Well,” she said, “I guess the answer is—they won’t.” That was the short answer, anyway.

“So you just danced cheek-to-cheek all night and then had a long platonic talk.”

“Basically.”

He poked at some coals. “What a rip-off.”

“I don’t know what you want to hear...” Shiloh leaned forward with an elbow on her knee. “We’re not teenagers anymore. I’ve got kids, Cary lives on a boat—and all of our shared experiences are from adolescence. Just because you married your first love—”

“Janine isn’t my first love,” Mikey said, quick to correct her.

“Cary told me you secretly dated in high school.”

“We did. And it was nice. We were good friends. But no, we weren’t in love—my first love was in college. She was a complete

psychopath who made me sleep in my street clothes. And Janine... Well.” He looked down. “Her first love died of cancer.”

“Oh my god, really?”

“Yeah.” Mikey frowned, breaking his stick off into the fire. “Her first husband. It was tragic.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. If I think too hard about it, I get lost... He should probably be here instead of me. But the thing is— I’m really glad to be here .” Mikey growled, frustrated, shaking his head. “Anyway. Janine and I never would have stayed together in high school. We

were both only half-baked and double stupid back then. She broke up with me after prom because I didn’t believe in Jesus.

Now I paint, like, actual profanity, and she wants to have babies with me.”

Shiloh was biting her bottom lip and laughing softly. “I feel like this proves my point—high school relationships aren’t magical.

They’re not destiny.”

“Pfff,” Mikey said. “Janine and I had nothing on you and Cary back then. You guys were attached at the brain stem.”

“Yeah...”

Shiloh couldn’t disagree. They were attached. They had something. But she didn’t think that it meant... anything now.

She didn’t want to spend her whole life trying to make it mean something.

“I’m really glad that Cary and I finally talked,” she said. “If you want, you can take credit for that. For resuscitating our friendship. He said maybe we could all hang out when he comes back for Christmas.”

Mikey’s high-beam face lit up again. “Heck yeah! That’d be great. We need to do that! We’re never all three in the same place.”

“I mean, I’m always in Omaha...” Shiloh frowned at him. “Did you really tell Janine that we’re alike?”

“You and Cary?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, duh. You’re practically the same person sometimes.”

“Uh,” Shiloh objected, “we couldn’t be more different! He’s in the Navy, and I voted for Ralph Nader.”

Mikey turned on her. “Are you fucking kidding me—did you really vote for Nader?”

She folded her arms. “I don’t want to talk about it. I have some regrets. I have nothing but regrets. Which is another way I’m not like Cary.”

“You guys look different on the outside,” Mikey said. “Different packaging. But you’re a lot alike on the inside.”

“How?” Shiloh asked. “Be specific.”

“You’re both smart. You’re both headstrong and... what’s a nice way to say ‘arrogant’?”

“There is no nice way to say ‘arrogant.’”

Mikey shrugged with his eyebrows, like this wasn’t his problem. “Also, you laugh at the same jokes.”

“We laugh at your jokes.”

“That must be why we all got along so well.”

“Hmmm,” Shiloh said doubtfully.

“You’re not putting me off till Christmas,” Mikey said. “I’m back in town now, and we’re blood brothers.”