Chapter 24 - "Dance With Me."
A/N: Completing this chapter – the one you're about to read, the one you'd be reading if you weren't reading this Author's Note, the one you'd already finished if you skipped everything and scrolled all the way down – this chapter just made me HJKSDHFSDKJFSHDJKFSD *lights a bonfire and chants a tribe song*
C'mon, let's go. *falls gracefully backward into story*
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Cassie managed to doze off in the end. Though she woke up with her eyes slightly puffy, and looking into the mirror, wasn't surprised to see shadows underneath them, but at least everything was brighter and better in the morning.
Opening the window a cool gentle breeze smelling of fresh rain filled her senses. She savoured the moment before moving off to the kitchen to prepare fresh food for Queen. Queen showed an improved appetite and was much perkier than the day before – and Cassie thought Queen stopped breathing hours ago! How silly she had been ...
Everything she thought of in the dead of night inflamed her brain, but now in daylight they seemed nothing but mad, dramatic worries. She wasn't thinking straight. Silly, silly. Her stress was reaching breaking point and last night was the limit.
Michael called again later than morning, tentatively asking how she was just as she was chopping up green peppers for an omelette. It wasn't a I'll-butt-in-to-show-that-I-care kind of concern, but a quiet, genuine one. Cassie admitted to lying about the sore throat, clearing up the guilt, and explained that she had felt downright tired after a long day.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Nope, and now I look like crap," she said straightforwardly.
"No kidding? Go eat something – had your breakfast yet?"
"Well, I'd be eating if you weren't talking – no, no, talk. I want to listen."
He then mentioned that he would be coming back a few days after, and wondered if he could drop by and see her. Cassie's spirits instantly lifted. With a smile she agreed and promised that she would cook something nice for both of them and he would spend a couple of hours at her place. It would be a wonderful break from her routine.
When she put down the phone, her chest lightened considerably, the anxious weight replaced with a warm glow, a sweet contentment. There was a skip in her step as she went about her chores.
Got to take care of myself. She shoved down breakfast and felt hungrier than she had been for days. She had to take care of herself to take care of others. No more self-sabotaging.
* * *
"Oh, wow, you still have the old ones. They're growing beautifully," Michael complimented, examining the pot in front of the window.
"I take good care of things," Cassie said, pride in her voice. She rummaged through the kitchen cabinet to find a suitably sized bowl for the new bouquet he had bought; she could open a florist shop soon at this rate.
She was filling the bowl with fresh water when he asked, "What happened?"
She turned to see the expression of shock on Michael's face, his eyes wide at the minor bruises and bite wounds along her arms.
Cassie sighed; of course he didn't know. She told him about the dogs as she placed the flowers in the bowl.
"But you were helping them," he said. She could sense agitation in his voice. "How could they –?"
Cassie shook her head, batting off the irritable feeling that he blamed it on the dogs. That was just stupid. Honestly, how could he?
"Every animal's different. Not all of them can heal as well as others. We don't know their past and what they've been through."
She looked into his eyes, wanting him to understand.
She hoped he had.
Unknowingly, her impatience must have shown on her face, because Michael weighed the issue for a moment, then decided to change the topic, which Cassie happily complied.
"That smells nice. What has Chef Woods whipped up?"
"Spaghetti and salad, and fruit juice," Cassie gestured at the small table next to the kitchen counter, the same two stools on each side. Queen was occupying one of them – the one Michael would be sitting. She began to groom her fur, seemingly oblivious to his presence.
"Hello, your highness." Michael crouched down to tickle the cat's fluffy cheek, but she maintained the same indifferent expression, not having a care for the world and refused to remove herself from the stool until Cassie carried her off.
"The olive oil and cheese is a little heavy on the salad," said Cassie, "I hope you're okay with it because I really like it –"
"You spent time to make all this. I'm okay with anything," said Michael.
Over the meal she told him about Rainee and Andrew. She did not elaborate on her recent problems; they would come to pass. She didn't want to venture into in-depth discussions of depressing topics when they were both eating. Talking. Happy.
Michael shared the progress of his album. He wasn't droning about it like a day job – he talked about it passionately, animatedly. His voice slow and deliberate when describing certain emotions he was feeling when it came to music. Cassie listened to it all. She couldn't quite understand the technical jargon, and he had to explain them to her. That part of him was probably one she could not ever fully visualize and understand, but it was fine. She loved it.
And to his credit, Michael finished everything and by the end of the meal a pale pink coloured Cassie's cheeks under all his gushing compliments. He offered to do the dishes. Cassie did not reject. She passed him her plate gratefully and told him where the sponge and dish soap was. Each time the few wounds on her fingers made contact with water, the sharp, nerve-stinging pain was all but bearable. She thanked the heavens for pointing the way to a pair of rubber gloves stuffed inside the cabinet, otherwise they would have had to settle with cheap takeaways.
As she stood up from her seat, Cassie made another tiny request for Michael to clean the table, making a wiping gesture. He looked over his shoulder and nodded. Cassie beamed at him.
She shuffled passed Queen and slumped onto the couch. Within her hand's reach was the radio, which was placed next to the bookshelf. She switched it on and tuned it. She never had a television, given that she hadn't had the habit of watching soap operas or live sport events.
She tuned to a classical music channel. They played instrumental piano, strings, violin, saxophone, old film scores and the like. It was heavenly, adding to the fact that there was someone finishing all the dishes for her. She lay her head back and let out a long breath. It was nice to have someone else in the house. Another presence. Someone else carrying some other activity in the vicinity.
A little while later the gushing sound of water at the sink ceased, followed by a squeak of the tap being switched off, quiet footsteps, a little coo to Queen, and Cassie felt the other side of the couch sinking down.
She angled her head to the right and opened her eyes. Michael had his head propped up on his elbow next to her. His eyes wandered over her face in thought.
"What?" she gave a light giggle, staring back playfully, deliberately widening her eyes and not blinking.
"You look tired," he said. From his tone Cassie sensed that he wanted to make this remark earlier over their meal, but resisted.
"No, I'm not," she contradicted. "I'm very happy that you washed everything for me. Do I look tired?"
"Your eyes. I know," he said in his soft voice. His hand caressed her cheek, tucking away strands of hair behind her ear. Cassie bit her lip, staring back. Perhaps she did look a little dishevelled from the lack of time she had given herself over the last week. (Had it only been a week? It felt like a long, long, tiring month.)
"A bit stressed out lately," she answered. It was the truth.
"Anything I can help?"
She dropped her gaze. "No, not really."
Then she thought of the lack of funds, but felt queasy asking. He wasn't her ATM machine ... but no harm asking, she reasoned. She was asking it objectively on behalf of others, not begging and whining for a Gucci handbag.
"There's this one thing ..." she began.
And so she explained about the funds. That was a problem they hoped could be solve by appealing to the public. The rest of the chaos within ... they would have to resolve it on their own.
"I'm in no way asking you to supply us with ... Look, I know you have the money, but there is just too much. The expenses are ongoing. We can't rely on you alone."
"I want to help in any way I can."
"It feels like I'm exploiting you, like I'm after what you have ... The monetary value."
He gave a light chuckle. "If you were really after my money, you'd already have my credit card right now. I'm really bad at rejecting people sometimes ... Do you spend much on yourself?"
"NO," Cassie sat up immediately, emphasizing the fact. She could bring out the notebook she used for bookkeeping and break down every little expense if the need be.
"See?" He shoved her back down playfully, "I trust you, Cass. I'll help when you ask, okay?"
She looked up at him, gratefulness welling up inside her. He didn't think it was ridiculous, then. No persuading her to play the selfish individual and worm out of the predicament she was involved in. "Thank you, Michael."
He shook his head, indicating that it was nothing much. He returned a small, warm smile and continued to gaze at her for some moments before asking, "Would you give me something in return?"
She considered. "What?"
Again, he thought for a while. "Hmm ... dance with me," he said.
She gave an instant giggle. "What?"
He wouldn't give her the option of saying no. Taking her hand to get her off the couch, Michael repeated, chuckling, "I said, dance with me."
Between the bookshelf and the coffee table and the couch, Cassie stood up a little rigidly, feeling restricted by the limited space, with Michael barely three inches from her.
"The furniture ..." she mumbled.
"We'll make do."
He brought her closer, his hand on her waist and the other delicately holding her hand.
"Just place your hand on my shoulder ... Come here," he murmured.
Stepping closer to his space, she rested her head on his other shoulder. His scent held her captive, sweet and entrancing of dreams and of everything she had come to love. She closed her eyes, absorbing the warm energy he radiated. His legs guided hers as they danced to the soft, quiet music. Everything else seemed to melt away, leaving a warm, fuzzy feeling.
The slow dancing, the music – Cassie remembered the one party she attended in college. The rare event where she was there, but not Yvonne. The saving grace was Tyler, who stuck with her loyally.
They grew together, in a way – made it out of college, got their first full-time jobs, pondering and hesitating on where to have dinner but going to the same place each time, finding their place in the world.
It was so strange sometimes, to no longer be in love with him. To no longer hold his hand. To see that the hand now holding hers belonged to another person.
Michael's head moved a little as he came to rest his cheek against her forehead. He exhaled deeply. His eyes were half-closed and on his lips wore the tiniest of smiles.
She wouldn't change what happened.
Her hands slipped under his arms to lean in closer to his body. She missed this kind of connection. So much. She wanted to hold him, to caress him – she realized that he was doing them for her, so that she was now embalmed in a cocoon of warmth and comfort and his cologne.
"We'll go out next time. Can we do that?" she asked.
He stroked her hair and she felt the heavy tension within her chest lightened. She was infinitely grateful to have him here, right now, with her.
"Yes, we can," he answered softly. Absent-mindedly, her eyes followed the trace of neat stitches on the collar of his button-up shirt.
"Let's planned it out. No 3 am though, I need sleep."
"All right, no 3 am." His response was just as gentle and calming as the first.
"Where should we go?"
"Anywhere. Anywhere you want," he whispered.
- - -
A/N: I had "The Lady In My Life" in mind when this little dancing scene decided to hop into my head. "Girl, you're every wonder in this world to me." Besides the verses, the song's intro is absolutely perfect.
Oh, I also love listening to film scores and a bit of jazz on the radio. Ah ... relaxing, isn't it? ❤
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