Read Online The Dance by Alison G. Bailey - Free Book Online

have time? I’d like to be put on your busy schedule.”
    Will ripped off his shirt and pants, standing in the middle of our room in only his boxers.
    “I’ve racked my brain trying to figure out what I did wrong. Was it something I ate, did I twist my body a certain way, or am I being punished for something I did in the past?”
    “Nothing I can do or say will erase what happened,” he said, sounding defeated.
    “I know that. I don’t expect you to perform some miracle. But I need you. I don’t know how to move on from this without you.”
    “I . . . um . . . I . . .”
    I stepped toward him and took his hand in mine. “We can go see a counselor to help us.”
    He shook his head. “No. I’ll do better.”
    I wanted to believe Will but I had a feeling he was only saying the words he thought I wanted to hear. He caught my gaze for a brief moment and let go of my hand before retreating into the bathroom.

 
    During the months that followed, my relationship with Will ebbed and flowed. We had hopeful moments, though they were fleeting, replaced by long periods of disconnect. I understood people handled grief in many different ways. And you can’t dictate to another person the right way to move through their sorrow. I needed the one person in my life who could understand what I was feeling. But he apparently didn’t need me. At least not at the moment. I turned to my parents and Sophie, of course, but it wasn’t the same. The constant gnawing pain in my heart couldn’t be consoled by hugs and a sympathetic gaze.
    Will continued to immerse himself in work. Instead of being jealous and angry, I decided that if this was his way of dealing with the loss of our child I had to give him the time and space. Work made him happy and that was important to me. I eventually eased back into some semblance of a routine as I waited for my old self to reappear. A big part of me doubted I’d ever see that girl again. Losing your child changes the atmosphere forever.
    We pulled up to the three-story colonial house right across the street from Charleston Harbor in the area of downtown known as The Battery. The beautiful white home was the epitome of old southern charm. Wraparound porches hugged each story complete with quaint rocking chairs welcoming visitors. The house had been in Will’s family for four generations. His parents were the current occupants. Alex, being the eldest son, was entitled to be the fifth generation to live there but that would never happen. Alex gave up his birthright the minute he walked out of rehab the first time. Mr. Forsyth made sure to notate in his will that the tradition would skip to his second son instead. One day Will and I would be holding Sunday dinners here with our children.
    Before we reached the first step the front door swung open and we were greeted by the open arms of Will’s mom. Every time we came over she greeted us as if we hadn’t seen one another in years. Will worked side-by-side with his dad every day and we had Sunday dinner with his parents every other week. Whispers had swirled in the local society circle for years about Alex. I assumed Will’s mom’s grand gesture was more a show for the neighbors. Making sure that those who were within view could see the good son coming home. Thus proving that the majority of her family was indeed perfect despite the one bad apple.
    As Mrs. Forsyth waited for her hug, I swear I saw her gaze shift from side-to-side checking for an audience. “There’s my handsome boy.”
    “Hey, Mom.” Will kissed his mother on the cheek like any dutiful southern son would do.
    “Hey, darling.” A pitiful expression crossed her face.
    I was well aware of how devastated both sets of parents were when they got the news. Whereas my parents gave me love and support, Will’s mom continued to send out subtle signals of hurt and disappointment.
    As I climbed the steps, Will walked past his mother and into the house.
    With her head tilted in sympathy, a