“No.”
There’s silence between us, and I realize that we’re both moving almost imperceptibly to the thud-thud-thud. My body is shifting this way and that, by the tiniest fraction of a degree, and he’s doing the same. We’re almost-dancing, if that’s a thing, and if it’s not, we’re making it a thing. We’re deliberate. We’re in sync. Our bodies always were in sync. We walked in time, we fit each other perfectly in bed, we yawned simultaneously.
The music increases in volume and I feel my body responding. Joe’s wordless gaze seems more intense, almost hypnotic. I suddenly remember dancing with him at that school event, as teenagers, before we were even an item. It was the first time I felt his hands on me like that. The first time we ever looked at each other in that way.
And now we’re looking at each other in that way again. My spine is tingling. I’m in a kind of trance, lost in the connection between us. An outsider would probably see two people sitting in motionless silence. But if this isn’t dancing, nothing is. All my cells are swaying in time with his. All my cells are yearning for his. The feel of his skin, his hands, his mouth…I feel intoxicated. I want him. Desperately. Even as I simultaneously know that a lot of things I might want in life are not good choices.
People give up smoking by associating cigarettes with some horrible food, don’t they? Therefore, I can give up Joe by associating with him with heartbreak. Which should be easy, because I already do.
Somehow I wrench my eyes away from his, break the spell, and find a normal voice.
“Well, that was a weird evening.”
“Agreed.” Joe nods.
“A commitment ceremony.” I wrinkle my nose. “What is that even?”
Joe shrugs. “I guess it’s where you promise to, you know, be with each other. Stay with each other—”
He breaks off, and I feel a warmth travel through me, all the way to my cheeks. Because that’s what we wanted, once upon a time.
“Anyway.” I try to move the conversation on. “What they say is true. You don’t hear anything good about yourself if you eavesdrop.” I make a wry, comical face and Joe laughs.
“What did you expect if you were a fly on the wall?”
“Well, obviously I was hoping they might all say, Isn’t Effie brilliant? Isn’t she fabulous? Isn’t she the best member of this family? Joke,” I add quickly. “I’m joking.”
“You are the best member of this family,” says Joe, straight-faced.
I know he’s joking, too, but I still feel a kind of longing inside me. I used to be his best. And he was my best.
Anyway. Whatever.
“I once made the mistake of looking at some online comments about me,” Joe adds, more lightly. “I guess that’s the equivalent of hiding under the table and eavesdropping. I don’t recommend it.”
“Oh God!” I clap a hand to my mouth. “But surely everyone loves you.”
“Not the guy who wanted me to stuff my arrogant cock…” He pauses. “Don’t remember exactly where. Nowhere edifying. At least your family didn’t come out with anything like that.”
I can’t help snorting with laughter. “That puts it in perspective.”
I sip my champagne and look at Joe’s face, and suddenly I miss his wisdom. We used to talk everything through. He’s not like Bean—he doesn’t get anxious or overprotective. He just listens and gives his view. I’m still feeling raw after hearing myself discussed, and I want his take on it.
“Joe, do you think I’m still the baby of the family?” I say in an embarrassed rush, and he lifts his eyes in surprise.
“Maybe,” he says, after a few moments’ thought. “Although…quite hard not to be.”
“Bean does far too much for me,” I say, stricken. “I just let her. She organizes everything and sorts out all the family arrangements and worries about me. She’s like a mother hen. She even orders me vitamins.”
“Well, order her some vitamins, then.”
This is such a Joe response, I can’t help laughing. Direct. Practical. To the point.
“You have a solution to everything, don’t you?”
“Not always.” A strange flicker passes over Joe’s face. “Not always.”
There’s a weird little silence. Joe’s eyes meet mine directly and my throat tightens. Does he mean…？ What does he mean? But then he looks away and the moment’s gone.
“My sister sometimes comes to meet me for lunch at the hospital,” he continues casually. “And whenever she arrives, she says the same thing. ‘Little Joe! A doctor!’ And then she pinches my cheek. So I get it. Once the youngest, always the youngest.”