Take Everything

“I have to go,” he said, then remembered he’d come with Willem. There was no way he could stand riding back with him, or even getting in the car with him. The car borrowed from Willem’s landlady because it was a special occasion. He dug in his pocket for his phone. His hands were shaking and he nearly dropped it.

Rory saw all this, abruptly remembered the backstage back-slapping, the ‘bon voyage’ and ‘Anything Goes’ jokes, and said, “Don’t move.”

Richard stopped trying to call up the Uber app. He didn’t say anything in the moment before she walked away, simply stood there, now trying to breathe. Two minutes later Rory was back with her girlfriend Dana, and they were walking him toward the stairs. He didn’t turn his head. Didn’t try to see Willem one more time, maybe the last time. His lover was out there dancing, celebrating, not even thinking about Richard. Why should he? He didn’t know how Richard felt. How could he? They hadn’t ever talked about feelings. You don’t do that when someone’s leaving.

Neither woman asked Richard any questions. It didn’t occur to him that they didn’t know where he lived.

****

About half an hour into the after-party, Willem looked around for his date. There was no sign of him. He did manage to locate some of the other dancers in the show. People Willem only knew because of the show, like Richard. “Hey, Vicky?” He pitched his voice low, trying to be discreet. “Have you seen Richard anywhere?”

Vicky studied him for a second. “I haven’t seen him.” She turned to her wife. “Sharon? Did you notice if Richard went upstairs?” The mezzanine lounge at Chrome was open to the public tonight, and might have been quieter than the private after-party.

Sharon looked up at Willem too. “Oh hey. I think he left with Rory and Dana. I saw them walking out a while ago. Didn’t he say anything?” Everyone at the table could see that he hadn’t, and that Willem didn’t know how to take it. He felt and surely looked annoyed, and upset, and worried. There was an exchange of ‘oops’ glances. Sharon filled in the awkward not-quite-silence, or rather the awkward gap in chatter over the house music that was pumping. “He probably sent you a text. When do you leave for the new job?”

“Tomorrow,” Willem said, making an effort. He didn’t know what had happened. Whatever it was, none of these people had caused it. They made room for him to pull another chair into the group, inviting him to give them the scoop on the cruise-ship contract. “It’s a hell of a gamble,” he admitted. “That’s a lot of weeks to be stuck with a situation if it turns out I hate it.” Before long they were all talking comfortably again.

Willem forgot about checking his phone until he finally left, hauling his tired body up and out to his borrowed car. God that was fun, he thought, glad he’d had this experience before heading off to sea. The show he’d be doing on board was nothing like this one. They’d have four days to rehearse it before their first performance, instead of three months. Everyone in the cruise cast had a list of credits as long as Willem’s. It was a Broadway revue with no story, only familiar songs with accessible dance numbers. Light entertainment. A perfectly legitimate gig, but not as satisfying as the complex original story and challenging choreography of ‘The Great Wave.’

He would have liked to spend the night with Richard. To celebrate, and to say goodbye properly. They’d only had that one night together in their short string of dates. On the thought, with the engine running but still in the parking lot, Willem got his phone and checked for a message. There wasn’t one. “Well, fuck you too,” he told the phone, letting annoyance boil to the top, swamping the hurt. He wouldn’t have thought Richard would be rude this way, dismissing him without a word. They’d clicked so fast and so thoroughly.

The lights on Hollywood Boulevard were all against him. Somehow this made him angrier. So what if they hadn’t talked about commitment. It had only been a few weeks. They hadn’t even talked about ‘when I’m back on land.’ Willem hadn’t wanted to go there, because he didn’t know if he’d like the gig. If he did, it might be years before he came back. It was good Richard did this. Better for both of them.

It wasn’t until he stopped at the signal at La Brea, felt a tickle on his cheek and wiped his face, that he realized he was crying. “What’s wrong with you,” he said out loud. “You thought it’d be a one-night stand, and then you got six dates out of it. No harm, no foul.” His inner voice, the one that constantly tried to tell him he'd done something wrong, was unconvinced.

It was late, but trying to sleep on this wasn’t likely to be a success. The inner voice, always subdued by using his body, was busy telling him he’d feel better if he stopped at one of these ten thousand liquor stores. Willem turned down Fairfax and headed for a midnight meeting.