“I’m good. Sorry to trouble you. All of you.”
“Well, you got to see Lucky naked. Night’s not a total loss.”
James chuckled. And with a wave he loped down the porch steps and out through the hedge.
Erik shut off the burner, locked the kitchen door, killed the porch light and went upstairs. He brushed his teeth and got into Daisy’s bed. She rolled up against his back, curling an arm around him, pressing her palm flat to his heart.
“All right?” she whispered drowsily.
“All right,” he said. “Go to sleep.”
“You’re so good. I love you.”
“I love you.”
And I am good.
He reached in his pocket and closed his fingers around the penny. He almost drew it out to put on the bedside table. But then he left it where it was and soon fell asleep.
The next morning, April 9, James was found unconscious on the bathroom floor of his dorm. In his hand was an empty bottle of prescription codeine belonging to his roommate. He was rushed to University Medical Center and survived the overdose. Then he was taken home to Greensburg.
It was ten days before Erik saw him again.
The Man I Love
The conservatory was reeling in the wake of James’s suicide attempt. Rumors layered on top of nervous intrigue, piling up in Mallory Hall like poor scaffolding. Erik kept his ear peeled to the whispers, but in all the talk of James, he did not hear anyone mentioning Will’s name. Not romantically anyway. People guessed James had snapped after losing his spot in the concert and losing his role to Will. A few went a little deeper and pointed out it was no secret James was crushy on Will and it had made the atmosphere of Powaqqatsi rehearsals tense. But nowhere was there even a whiff of innuendo the attraction was mutual. Nobody hinted anything had happened.
Between Erik and Daisy, Will and Lucky, and even David, a single look was exchanged. A complicit agreement.
“Entre fucking nous,” David said through his teeth.
The days passed in quiet productively. The atmosphere around Mallory was subdued, but serene. No one admitted James’s absence, although shocking and tragic, was a relief. Erik kept the penny in his pocket, meaning a dozen times to track down James’s address and mail it, but then forgetting. He and David put in long hours at the shop. Daisy and Will worked hard polishing “The Man I Love” and came home exhausted. Lucky fussed around making healthy dinners and icing sore joints. The air at Jay Street was comfortable and sweet. One night Erik and Daisy lifted their heads out of sleep at the sound of Lucky moaning Will’s name. They smiled at each other, biting back laughter, and laid down again.
Then it was Sunday of tech week, and the stage crew met in the shops at nine in the morning, ready to bring the Who Cares? set up to the stage.
“You’re going to be two heads short,” Leo said, his voice a rasp. ”Hell of a bug is going around.”
“You feel all right?” David said.
“I feel like crap, children.”
“Go home,” Erik said. “We can handle it.”
“You’re short two heads. I’ll get the sets up with you and wire the booms. Then I’ll go home.”
It took three hours to get the New York City skyline arranged to David’s satisfaction. Then they had to hustle to hang the boom stands before the dancers arrived at one o’clock.
Neil Martinez, one of the sick stagehands, dragged himself in around one-thirty. Leo went home. Kees arrived, saying Michael Kantz was sick as well.
“So I’m in charge,” Kees said, looking around at the company. “Are we clear?”
“Of course, darling,” Marie said. “You can be in charge of coffee.”
During the focus session, Erik sat with David in the house, taking notes and making cue sheets, as David discussed the lighting design with Marie. When they were ready for a first run of the ballet, Erik went into the booth to test a few of the cues.
“Hey.”