Last Dance

 

“I’m ready, babe,” Cal mumbled into his beer bottle.

 

He was slouched in the loveseat in the living room of their apartment. It was riddled with cigarette burn marks but it was all he could afford when they first moved in.

 

He drained the rest of his beer and belched. He held his breath for a beat and listened for any sign of her from the bedroom. He would’ve held it longer. He heard no movement other than the faint sounds from her speakers, but he gasped for air and reached for his smokes reflexively.

 

He pulled out another bottle from the pack. He’d been drinking so heavily that the beers he brought home never even made it to the fridge, let alone saw the next day. He missed his mouth at first, then found his way and gulped down half of the bottle.

 

The bedroom door opened and the music suddenly got louder. He sprang to attention. Lena came around the corner with a droopy smile across her face. He licked his lips, happy that she looked only as high as he was drunk. The two of them were looking to balance their respective levels of intoxication once again. It was a constant struggle, as if they were trying to calculate a complex math equation in their heads.

 

She dragged her feet as she sauntered into the living room. Her arms were tucked away out of sight. She was wearing a summer dress that he’d never seen before. He wanted to focus on her strides as she came closer but he couldn’t help but notice the tags still on the side of the dress. He groaned and took another nip. She flicked off her shoulder strap suggestively, as if to apologize for buying another dress they couldn’t afford.

 

 “How much?” he asked her in between hiccups.

 

“Excuse me, mister?”

 

“You heard me.”

 

“Isn’t it worth it?” She batted her eyes.

 

“Depends on the price.”

 

“Why do you have to ruin my little show?” She stopped and put her hands on her hips.

 

“Because we can’t afford it!”

 

“But I worked on this all afternoon for you!” She was visibly pouting.

 

“So you went on a shopping spree? Finish up and then return it tomorrow.”

 

She did a full spin for him and then bowed at her knees, giving him one last look at her in this outfit. As she began to walk away, Cal got up and caught up to her.

 

“What’s this?” He pointed at a bloody smear on the side of the dress.

 

“Whoopsie.” She licked her thumb and rubbed her arm, the source of the blood.

 

She went in for a kiss and he obliged. He staggered back to his seat in the corner of the room.

 

“I think you’re gonna enjoy this next one.”

 

Cal rolled his eyes and cracked open another beer as he waited for her.

 

She came out of the room to a slower moving song. She was wearing a pleated mini-skirt and a tight, half-buttoned blouse. Her movements were a bit more steady. He was feeling good and drunk and she was finding her sea legs. They were both whizzing by one another on their respective pendulums. It was a very fragile experiment.

 

“You can’t wear that outside!”

 

“Says who, silly?”

 

“The outfit barely fits you!”

 

“It was on sale so don’t worry.”

 

“That’s hardly the point.”

 

“You like what you see?”

 

“Of course, but that’s not important.”

 

“Then what is?” she asked.

 

“You could entice me by wearing pajamas. Why do you gotta spend all our money on this crap?”

 

“I didn’t spend it all, and besides my ma gave me some money so I figured why not?”

 

“Because we’ve got bills to pay!”

 

“And beer to drink.”

 

“And smack to shoot, too!”

 

“I’m not going to waste this on an argument.”

 

He wasn’t sure whether she was talking about her clothing shopping spree or her drug purchase.

 

“Did you ever think this whole thing, our little routine, was our reward?”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“We deserve nice things once in a while! So sit back and relax and don’t nitpick everything, babe. I’ll be out in a few.”

 

Truth was their lives were so ruined that he wondered who needed these little shows more.

 

She stumbled out of the bedroom in a short robe with nothing more than high heels and underwear beneath. She was unsure of her movements, deliberate in her actions. Her legs were long and seemed to go on forever, but he focused on her eyes. They looked heavy, like it took all her strength just to keep them open. She staggered slowly toward him. He was no longer mad at her. He just hoped she could make it through her show. He had more planned for her if they could both just stay conscious.

 

He was drunk and she was high and they were bound to zoom past one another once again. Her arm was still red from before. He zeroed in on her hips which swiveled with more grace than she usually had at this time of night. Her feet stopped his wandering eyes. They were darkened with old bruises and track marks that had been calloused over. She’d been shooting more often than she promised.

 

She noticed him looking and lost her confidence and tripped as she sauntered across the living room. She rolled her ankle and took a header into the window mantle. He jumped up and helped her to her feet. The music was still playing in the background. She was silently crying and he was holding tears in himself, trying to be the strong silent type. He rushed over to the couch and grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her. They stood in the middle of the room and began to dance. He held her up, scared of what would happen if he let go.