I didn’t really mean to, but she was standing over me, with that damned slit halfway up her thigh. From my floor perspective I could see way beyond thigh level. So I looked. And she caught me looking.

“Black lace. Is that the real you?” I commented, trying to discommode her. “Pull me up,” I said, extending my hand.

“Someone give me a hand with this body,” Joanne said, not at all discommoded.

Cordelia came around to my other side and reached out her hand. I had no choice but to take it. Now I was the discomfited one.

She and Joanne, each holding a hand, pulled me up. I let go of her hand too quickly, disconcerted by her touch. The three of us stood together, confused and awkward for a moment. At least I was; I don’t know what they were feeling.

“Well, I hope we’re all having a good time here tonight. I know I am,” I said sarcastically, trying not to look back at Cordelia. “Now, I really am thirsty. And I really have to get a drink of water.” With that I stalked off, more in search of quietude than water. Cordelia had badly thrown me off kilter. How could she just reappear with a cute little blonde in tow and pretend that nothing had happened between us? What did she expect me to do? Smile blandly and congratulate her?

I walked quickly past the partying clumps until I was out in a dim corner of the back porch.

What does she think…? Then I knew what she thought, or had a pretty good guess. Micky Tomcat, as Danny had said. What could I do? Tell her, “I know Danny’s told you a lot of things about me, and yes, they’re all true, but I’ve changed, really, I have.” Right. Why would Cordelia have an affair with a Cajun bastard who had, and there was no other word for it, a slutty reputation? Particularly when cute little good girl blondes are available?

I left the porch, walking out onto the starlit lawn. I thought about being supremely childish and climbing the magnolia tree to spend the rest of the evening there. But a couple was entwined at the bottom of it and they didn’t sound like they would appreciate being disturbed.

Cordelia has found a new blond twerp. You will survive, Micky, I told myself. And I would. I just didn’t want to stand around tonight watching her and her runt.

I roamed among the trees and shadows of the yard. I sighted Rosie and Melanie sneaking off to their cabin. Don’t worry, I thought indulgently, I’ll cover for you. Hello, young lovers, wherever you are.

I wandered over to the gazebo, wondering who I would find entwined there. Maybe Torbin and Andy, I maliciously hoped. But it was deserted, no deserving couples to intrude on. I entered, walking to the far side, then sat down on the railing, leaning my back against a supporting column. I looked over the lawn to the deepening darkness that led into the forest.

I heard a board creek behind me, someone coming up the steps. I turned to look. A tall woman in white. I almost fell off the railing.

“Are you all right?” Cordelia said, seeing me off balance, trying not to fall into the azalea bushes below.

“Yeah, fine,” I answered, grabbing at the column to stop my slide bush-ward. “Not my night for balance,” I said, as I fumbled to get my rear end safely reseated on the railing. “So, how are you?” I winced at the falsely bright tone in my voice, but at least I was sitting upright again.

“Pretty good. How’s your leg holding out?”

“It’s fine.”

She was carrying a bottle of champagne, which she set down. I was desperately trying to think of something to say, or better, some way to leave.

“Is it just coincidence that you always seem to be leaving a room whenever I enter it?”

“Has to be,” I mumbled, abashed at having been so clumsy.

“Of course,” she said, looking at me, her eyes clear and direct. We both knew I was lying. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” I replied automatically.

“No, really,” she countered.

I didn’t know what to say, her directness caught me off guard. I sat, holding on to the railing tightly, wanting to go to her and put my arms around her.

“Uh…I’m…” I didn’t know. The silence hung. “I did leave the room. I didn’t know what to say to you,” I admitted.

“Well, I guess I can understand that,” she replied, turning away from me, slumping slightly from the sting my admission had to give.

I stood up, took a step to her, then faltered, unsure of what I wanted, afraid of what she wanted.

“It’s okay,” she said, her back still to me. “You have every right to avoid me.”

“I don’t…I’m not avoiding…Things get complicated, don’t they?” I finished lamely.

“I had hoped we could be friends.”

“We can. If you want.”

“I do want.” And she turned back to me, the half-smile again on her face.

“Good,” I responded.

“Champagne? I brought a bottle out here with me,” she offered.

“No, thanks.”

“Mind if I do?”

“Of course not. I’ve heard via Elly that you’ve had a long week.”

“Sometimes they all seem long,” she answered, then took a swig straight out of the bottle. “Not the best way to drink champagne.”

Another pause. She spoke first.

“I enjoyed watching you dance with Emma.”

“Thanks,” I replied, then to avoid another silence, “How do you know her? Emma, I mean.”

“All the grand old families know one another. Some social requirement or the other. I believe Grandfather Holloway was in the same fraternity as Emma’s father. I came out here when I was eighteen and sort of beginning to figure things out. I had always been fascinated by Miss Auerbach. Then Grandfather told me not to be seen with her anymore. No explanation. But I knew.”

“And you haven’t been out here since then,” I said, a statement, not a question.

“How did you know?”

“I’ve been here every year since I turned eighteen. I would have noticed you.”

“You’re very kind.”

“Not kind. Observant.”

“Thank you,” she said, flustered by my compliment. She took another drink of champagne.

God, you’re beautiful, I thought, the soft lights reflecting off the white she was wearing, making her eyes a deep and mysterious blue. But we were only friends and I was afraid to say it.

“What was Danny talking about?” she abruptly asked. “In college.”

“Oh, that,” I replied, embarrassed. “Youthful indiscretions.”

“Why didn’t I have a youth like that?” she said, the slight smile playing on her lips. “Good old Cordelia. Always discreet. Doomed to discretion.”

“Don’t say that,” I replied to the disparaging tone in her voice.

“Dance with me,” she said suddenly. Then, “Will you?” as if afraid of refusal. “I’ve always wanted to whirl across the ballroom floor like I saw you doing earlier.”

I took a tentative step toward her.

“Didn’t you dance with Alex?” I asked to cover the silence.

“Oh, Alex. I’ve known Alex forever. I think we were born in the same hospital. No, that’s probably apocryphal. But definitely grade school. Besides that, Alex isn’t…” and she stopped.

“Isn’t?”

“Tall, dark, and…handsome,” she said, looking at me, then quickly away.

I took another step toward her.

“You’re very kind,” I said.

“Not kind. Observant,” she answered.

She stepped in to me, putting one hand tentatively on my shoulder.

I put my hand on her waist.

“Wait,” she said, pulling away. “Let me get rid of this.” She put the champagne bottle down a few feet away. Then she came back, putting her hand on my shoulder with the same tentativeness, as if I might break or back away at any moment.

I took her left hand in mine.

“I’ll have to hum,” I said. “Can you stand it?”

“If you can stand my dancing.”

“Fair enough.”

I started softly singing the only waltz that came to mind. I wasn’t even sure what it was.

“I know why I’ve never spun around a ballroom,” she said after our first few awkward steps. “I’m not a very good dancer.” She stumbled, as if to prove her point. “Particularly when I’ve had too much champagne,” she added. “I don’t think I’m sober.” She stopped. “It’s okay. I need a few more lessons. Or something.” She started to pull away.

No, don’t, I wanted to yell. Don’t move away from me, don’t shatter this slight embrace.

“Don’t give up yet,” I said, not releasing her, keeping her in our tentative waltz, pulling her a little off balance so she couldn’t let go of me. She faltered again, but this time held on to me. We had stopped dancing, but she didn’t move away.

“I know I’m clumsy, but I’m not usually this bad,” she said, leaning her head against my shoulder. “The champagne.”