Michelle knocked.

No answer.  He’s in bed.  Oh well, I tried.

She turned away and the bedroom door opened.

“What do you want?” he whispered.  She stood there childlike in pajamas and socks, balling her toes into the carpet in the dark hallway.

“I… I wanted to say…” I will not cry, I will not cry, “can I come in?”

Jake sighed and stepped backwards, pulling the door open.  She entered and sat on his bed.  He stood in front of her, arms crossed, eyes cast to one side.

“What do you want to tell me?” he said.  “I have a busy day tomorrow.”

Michelle coughed a half-hearted laugh.  “Right.”

For a few moments, neither of them spoke, and the silence and the darkness of the bedroom seemed to meld into one thick entity that filled their ears, their eyes, their throats.

“Jake, I’m sorry,” Michelle said.  More silence.

“Sorry for what?”  Jake tilted his head slightly to look at her.

Michelle took a laborious breath.  “I’m sorry for the way I acted,” she began.  “I’m sorry I can’t be happy for you and Rachel.  I am.  I’m sorry I haven’t been any help this past week.  I’m sorry for blowing up at you at the bar, and I’m so sorry for tonight.”  She spoke with her eyes on the carpet, her feet twisting in slow circles.  “I’m sorry for my general attitude.  I’m sorry I’m so selfish and so egocentric.  I’m sorry I can’t let you go.  I’m sorry I’m a failure, and I’m so, so sorry for taking my disappointment with myself out on you.  I’m sorry that I need you so much.  I’m… I’m sorry.”

Jake looked at her with a vague smirk, one eyebrow raised, for second after second after second.  “Thanks,” he finally said, and sat down next to her on the bed.

She felt tears coming, but she fought them back.  I will not cry.  I will not cry. She looked at Jake.  He sat curved like a Greek statue of Ganymede, svelte and beautiful, innocent and pensive.  He rested his forehead on his fist like a different statue.

“You know you almost ruined my life?” he said.

Michelle nodded.

Jake leaned back, stretching his arms overhead.  “I mean, what were you thinking?  At my fucking wedding rehearsal dinner?  What did you think was going to happen?”

“I didn’t—” she wanted to say I didn’t think, but instead she finished the sentence with “think it would go so far.”

“You had too much to drink.”

She nodded.

Jake almost laughed.  “T.D., when did you turn into a drunk?”

At that moment her tears came, streaming thin and hot in parallel lines down her cheeks.  “Oh,” she said.  “A while ago now.”

She started to raise her hand to her face to wipe away the tears, but lowered it shaking to her lap.  Then, she felt his hand touch hers, and they sat connected as he resumed his thinker pose with the other hand.  The silent darkness now wrapped them protectively, a womblike shroud.

Finally, she wiped her face with her free hand.  She sniffed and let herself grip Jake’s hand in hers.  He squeezed back.

“I do love you, Jake.”

Jake breathed.  “I love you too, Michelle.”

“Jake,” she said.  “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

She paused, then her hand felt the slightest gentle squeeze, and she said “Do you remember Maryland?”

Even in the low light, Michelle could see Jake’s face change.  For the first time in ten years, he didn’t seem quite so cool.  “Of course I remember.”

Michelle clutched his cold hand tightly.  “We were, what?  Seven and nine?”

“Eight and ten.  I remember.  I was about to go into fifth grade.”

“In the condo, we had those bunk beds.”

“Yeah, but you’d always get scared sleeping on the top, so you’d come down and we’d lie together…”

“…and they had those white linen sheets…”

“…and I’d hold you in my arms, and we’d talk until we fell asleep.”

Michelle realized she was caressing her brother’s hand with her thumb, and stopped.  “We’ve never talked about that.”

“What do you mean?” Jake said.  “What’s there to talk about?  We were kids.  It was a vacation.”

“I – I just thought maybe…” she began, then hesitated.  “Maybe it meant something.  Like, it was special.”

“Special how?”

“Well…” she wished now she was still drunk so she could say what followed without the sting inside her ribs, “it was just a really happy time for me.  Those two weeks.  I felt.  Safe.”

Jake looked at her and sighed.  He let go of her hand, and for a moment she caught her breath in her throat, then he drew his arm around her and held her close to his chest.

For countless moments, they sat that way.  Finally, Jake leaned back until he was lying down, bringing Michelle with him.  She lay nestled in the crook of his arm with her head resting on his breast like a little sister, like a lover, like they had in Maryland.

“I remember you on the beach,” he said, “in that pink bathing suit with the flowers and that stupid ruffle around the waist.”

“I liked it because it looked like a tutu.”

“Heh.  Yeah.  You looked so happy in that stupid pink bathing suit.  I remember watching you dancing in it on the beach.  You just twirled and twirled.  I couldn’t believe it.  I thought you’d never stop.  You had a smile on your face that was so… just crystal, whatever that means.  It looked like it wouldn’t ever go away.  I’ve never seen anyone dance like that.  The way you danced that day, in the sand, without any music, it was like you were the music.  I knew looking at you, I just knew you were a great dancer.  I still think sometimes, if you could dance like that at eight years old, what can you do now?”

Michelle was enjoying the warmth of being pressed against him, and the scent of his clothes and his chest.  She inhaled deeply.  She said, “I’ve never danced like that since then, have I?”  Jake was quiet.

“I don’t have it anymore, do I?” she said calmly.  “You’ve seen me dance since then, in high school, in college.  You know.  I lost something.  I didn’t do it.  I couldn’t.  I’m… I’m mediocre.”

“You’re not mediocre.”

“But I’m not great.  I’m good, I’m technically correct, but I can’t dance like what you’re saying.  I can’t feel the music.  I can’t – I can’t be the music.”

Jake squeezed her tightly in a way which could be reassuring or conciliatory.  “You know you’ll always be my number-one girl, right?”

“Um, I guess.”

“Come on, T.D., Rachel could never replace you.  You’re my soul-mate.  You’re my best friend.  I keep you with me all the time.  I’ve always kept that image of you dancing in the sand in Maryland.  You do know that, right?”

“I – just, you’ve been acting so…”

He squeezed her again.  “I’m sorry.  Getting married’s so stressful.  Especially when… especially when you’re not sure if it’s what you really want.”

“You shouldn’t do it if you’re not sure.  That’s what everyone says.”

“Huh.  They may say that, but if I walked in tomorrow and said the wedding was off, everyone would freak.  There are certain decisions you can’t take back without a lot of shit to deal with.  That’s what being a grown-up is, I guess, and I guess this is one of them.  Once you start the ball rolling, it just keeps going.”

“You can always change.  You can change your mind.  People do it every day.”

“Irresponsible people.  That’s irresponsible.  You can’t just flake out all the time in the real world.”  He shifted underneath her and coughed.  She held her breath for a moment, then inhaled.  Around them, the silent darkness remained, undisturbed.

“Besides,” he said after a while, “there’s always divorce.”

Michelle could hear Jake’s heart beating, slow and drum-like.  She could feel his chest rise and fall with his breath and the bones in his ribcage expand.  She clutched the fabric of his shirt.  “I’m failing, Jake.”

He raised his head to look at her.  “What do you mean?”

“I’m failing.  I haven’t even had an audition in six months.  I’m never going to be a real ballerina.  I’m going to be at this shitty job for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Don’t tell me not to say it.  It’s true, isn’t it?  Look, I’m going to be twenty-four in a few months, then twenty-five, then thirty.  I should have started trying when I was eighteen.  I should have never gone to college.  It’s too late for me.  I don’t have it, and you know what?  I probably never did.”

“Come on, you had fun at college.”

“No I didn’t.  I didn’t even want to go.  Mom said I should.  I spent four years learning worthless techniques and getting fat while other girls were taking my parts, and everyone else at university was making me feel dumb.”

“You’re not—”

“How did we get here?  What happened to us to make us both fuck up so bad?  What the fuck am I going to do now?”

Jake didn’t answer, and she didn’t expect him to.

No more tears came from Michelle’s eyes.  She just lay, inhaling her brother’s scent, feeling the gentle touch of his fingers on her shoulder.

A few hours later, she realized she had fallen asleep in her brother’s bed.  Manipulating her way from under his arm, she stood up and pulled the covers up around him.  He lay there with his mouth parted, unselfconscious like a boy exhausted from playing.  She gave him a kiss at the corner of his mouth, then another on the forehead.  Then she left the dark, silent room quietly, and returned to her own bed.

The next day during the ceremony under the tent in the drizzling rain, Mrs. Browne affected ostentatious sobs.  As they exchanged vows, Michelle thought she saw a tear crystallize in, if not fall from, the eye of her father.

At the reception, Jake found Michelle and asked for a dance.  As they moved together across the floor, other guests formed an enclosing circle around them.  Before long the others had all stopped to watch the brother and sister, who looked like they had studied their dancing for years, and whose bodies pulsed with every beat, rhythm, and flow of the song.

“Do you see?” Jake whispered to her as the song was about to finish.  “Do you feel it?”

Michelle was flying, barely conscious enough of her surroundings to answer.  “I do,” she said, and kept dancing.

Filed under: Jake, Michelle by Jade