Part 37 (1/2)

”Really? Why?”

”Because you're good. Even before your accident I'd heard of you. You're amazing.”

”Thanks, but...I don't...you still compete?” I ask, to get her off the subject of me. Plus, I can't remember if she told me it was something she did now or in the past. She doesn't look too old to still be in compet.i.tion.

”No. I stopped when I started studying for my PhD. Too much. But I'd love to put on my pointe shoes or tap.”

I find myself smiling. I haven't put on a pair of tap shoes in so long.

”You like tap. I can tell by your smile. Dance with me, Rose.”

”I don't have my shoes...or...or my leg.” I say, embarra.s.sed.

”Oh. Well, next time you go home...” She shrugs. ”Maybe you can get them.”

I feel bad, because she looks disappointed. ”Thank you, Professor Sherman, I appreciate it.”

”Please...call me Lindsay. I'm only twenty-six. I hate Professor Sherman. Or worse, Dr. Sherman. In cla.s.s, I guess it's okay, but when we're not in cla.s.s, please, call me Lindsay. And think about my offer. You'd be doing me a favor. I hardly dance anymore. And I'm not one of those dancers who enjoys solos. My adrenaline rushes when I dance with other dancers. Love it.” She smiles, and I see the young girl she probably is when she's not teaching psych courses.

”Thanks, Lindsay. I'll think about it.”

”Great.”

Out in the hall, Ben is standing against the wall. ”Everything okay?”

”Yeah. Fine. Thanks for waiting.”

He holds up the container of chocolate pudding. ”Thanks for this.”

”Yeah, I guess you should eat it soon or...get it in a refrigerator.”

”So...do you wanna go somewhere to sit?”

”Uh. Yeah. The courtyard?”

”Sure. Or I can buy you coffee?”

”Um, no. It'll...it'll be too busy. The courtyard's fine.”

As we walk down the hall, from my peripheral vision, I see his hand reach out a little, but then he pulls it back and sticks it in the pocket of his leather coat.

”Are you sure you accepted my apology the other day?” he asks when we sit down. ”Because it didn't seem like you did.”

He holds up the pudding again. ”Unless...this means you did.”

”I did.”

”Good. 'Cause I am sorry.”

”You don't have to apologize. I'm sorry. You just found out bad news and I made it about me. That's what I do these days. I'm sorry.”

”s.h.i.+t. I get it. I'm always thinking about myself now too. Mostly pity parties.” He shakes his head and turns so that he's fully facing me on the bench. He puts the pudding down in the triangular s.p.a.ce between his legs. ”I think you're great just the way you are. What I said the other day, that was because of my fears, Rose. But I can understand how you'd think if I didn't want this for me, I wouldn't like it for you. Which, well, I wish things were different for you, but it doesn't bother me either way. Geez, Rose, I'm rambling. No matter how I put it, it sounds wrong. I hope you...”

”Ben. It's okay. I understand.”

He sighs. ”So can we start again?”

After a moment's hesitation, I say, ”Let's just deal with what's going on now. You have a lot in front of you. I'm here for you...like you are for me. Can that be enough for now?”

His smile is sad - his usual lately. ”As much as I'd like to return to kissing you, I guess this is gonna have to be enough...you're right. I need the distraction though, Rose. You are the only good thing in my life right now.” He takes me in both his arms and holds me, right here on the bench.

I feel like I should be holding him.

”Are you busy tomorrow?” he asks, still keeping his arms snug around me, the position of his legs making it awkward.

”Tomorrow?”

”Yes. It's Valentine's Day.” He lets go and sits back.

”Oh.”

”Rose Duncan, will you be my Valentine?”

”Uh. Well. Wouldn't that negate the whole let's-put-our-relations.h.i.+p-on-hold thing we just talked about?”

”You talked about?” He lifts his brow and smirks.

”I talked about. Okay. But...”

”Rose. What's really going on? It's not for my benefit that you're holding back. What is it?”

I slide a little away from him and sit back against the bench. ”It's...I can't...it's hard for me to express it...I just...you...your decision not to lose your leg.” I look at him. I want to see his reaction to what I'm saying. ”It made me realize that you...may find me...needy or pathetic or...unattractive...less than normal, I guess.”

”Oh, Rose. Rose.” He reaches for my hands and turns toward me. ”You are not less than anything. You are more everything than anyone I know. You gotta believe me.” Ben runs his thumb up my wrist then slides his whole hand up and down my lower arm. ”I told you...you missing a portion of your leg has no bearing on how I feel about you. The decision whether or not to have mine cut off in no way reflects how I feel about you.” He nods and closes his eyes. ”But it is a terribly difficult decision to make.”

”I'm sure it is. I'm sorry. I don't think I could make that decision either...even knowing what was ahead for me if I didn't...have it amputated.”

”Listen...let's forget it. Tomorrow...if you'll let me take you out...no talk of me...and the cancer. 'Kay? I don't want to think about it for a day. I have two weeks to decide. Tomorrow doesn't have to count.” Both my hands are in his again. ”So how 'bout it, Rose? Be my Valentine. Please?”

I smile.

I nod.

”Sure.”

36.