Dancing in Circles (Circles Trilogy) (12 page)

As she neared home the elation of the news returned. "Mom." She slammed the back door. "You'll never guess what!"

"Actually, it's me." Her father placed his briefcase and car keys on the counter.

Julie hugged him. "Oh, Dad. Guess what? You'll never believe it. I don't believe it. It's so great."

Her father waited.

"Madame wants me to audition for the Civic Dance Company." Julie spun around.

"That's great." He hugged his daughter and twirled her around.

Jangles raced in adding her jumps and barks to the excitement.

Mrs. Anderson and her two youngest daughters entered from the living room. "What's all the commotion?"

Julie danced her mother around the kitchen. "You won't guess. Dad didn't. Nobody could." She explained her news.

Her sister, Sheila, made a "so what" noise and left the kitchen. Ashley upon hearing that it didn't involve her, raided the cookie jar.

"Oh, honey, that's wonderful. Do you want to join?" Mrs. Anderson caught Ashley's arm and pointed to the jar.

"Yes. But I didn't think I was good enough." Julie bounced from foot to foot.

"My little girl is growing up." Her father squeezed her shoulders. "I'm so proud of you. This calls for a celebration."

"Pizza Place. Pizza Place." If Ashley was going to be denied a meal consisting solely of chocolate chip cookies, she'd insist on pizza.

***

After a fun evening of pizza and a family Whack-A-Mole tournament, Mr. Anderson suggested it was time to go home. Tired but happy, Julie settled into her bed, secure and warm within the love of her family. Tomorrow would be the dawn of the realization of her childhood fantasy.
Can't wait to tell Robert. Wonder where he is?

As Julie drove to dance class, she wondered where Robert disappeared to. He hadn't been to class since his argument with Francine last week. She pulled off the off-ramp and turned onto Tenth Street when she spotted a person entering a fast food restaurant wearing a Shoresmen jacket. Pulling a quick u-turn, she parked and entered the restaurant. From his short, slim build and light hair, Julie guessed it was Robert's best friend, Paul. He sat at a booth, munching on a hamburger and french fries.

She slipped into a seat across from him. "Hi. Remember me? I'm Robert's friend, Julie. Do you know where he is? He hasn't been to—"

Paul nodded and swallowed. "Let me finish. I'll take ya." He wolfed the last two bites of his meal, grabbed his drink and directed her to his car. It was an older model, customized in a deep royal blue interior with a bride's garter hung on the rear-view mirror. He unlocked the door. "Follow me."

Julie hesitated.

"It's ok." Paul held the door. "I may be Bob's best friend, but he'd still cut me down in a second if I hurt ya."

Julie followed as he drove to North Shore and parked next to him near an old tenement. He led her up a flight of dark, worn, wooden stairs. Her nose wrinkled at the obnoxious odours in the hall. Her fight or flight reflex kicked in – flight taking charge. She fought her fears and held her ground. He opened an apartment door and motioned to her to enter. Julie looked into Paul's face for any sign this was a trap. Seeing nothing to scare her into leaving, she entered the room.

It was lack-luster and furnished with cheap imitations of good quality furniture. Robert slept on a worn couch. His Shoresmen jacket lay in a heap onto the floor. A bruise covered part of his left cheek. Both the cut on his swollen lower lip and above his right eyebrow were raw.

Paul tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter. "I think his ribs are bruised."

"What happened?"

"Mike."

"His brother did this to him?" Julie looked back at Robert and shuddered.

"Yea, Lauren spit out some trash talk crap about him. Bob's great in a fight. He's tough, cunning and unbeatable. 'Cept for Mike. When they was kids, Mike beat on him all the time. Bob, he won't fight back when Mike hits him, so he loses every time." Paul shook him. "Bob, wake up. Ya got company."

Robert opened his eyes. They weren't the same sensual ones, which melted her heart the first time he looked at her. Instead, these eyes reflected pain.

She knelt beside him. "Hi."

He said nothing. She read in his eyes, she was the last person he wanted to see. She gave him a soft kiss on an undamaged part of his lips. "Don't talk. Let's go. I'll take you to my place."

Robert tried to argue, but a wave of pain stopped him.

"You're sick and injured. Let me take you home."

"No." His voice was hoarse and breathless.

She stood. "Either you come willingly, or I'll drag you down those stairs myself."

"I don't want your pity, and I don't need your sympathy." His eyes darkened with anger.

Too infuriated to listen to his words, Julie stammered, "My pity…my symp—" She fought to control her temper. "Is that what you think this is? Then you're stupider than I thought. This is simply concern from one friend to another. At least that's what I thought we were. If any of your brains are still unscrambled, use them. Let's go."

Robert gave in. Her voice hurt his head. It'd be easier to comply than fight. He tried to stand, but a sharp pain stopped him. Hissing, he didn't move.

Julie reached out. He brushed her aside. Gritting his teeth, he stood, took a step and stumbled. Paul reached forward, grabbed Robert's arm and hooked it over his shoulder. Julie crossed the room and opened the door. With every step, Julie saw a mask of pain cover Robert's face.

As Paul closed the back passenger door, she started the ignition, gave a brief wave and drove away. She glanced over the seat at Robert.
How am I going to explain you? You're not quite the same as bringing home a stray kitten.

Julie shut off the engine.
Dad'll be okay with this. Robert's hurt and needs help. What was I supposed to do? He's my friend. I had to help.
Looking at the house, she made a silent wish.
To make up for every selfish thing I ever did, please let this be okay
.

She crossed her fingers for luck, hopped out of the car, opened the passenger door and tapped Robert on the arm. He opened his eyes and pushed himself to upright.

"Come on. Let's get you inside. Can you make it okay?" She held out her hand to offer help.

He closed his eyes, heaved a big sigh and stood. The walk was slow. Julie directed him through the front door, into the living room and onto the couch. He sat, head hung, shoulders slouched.

Julie heard her mother in the dining room. "Mom? Dad? There's this guy who's a friend of mine and he's been missing for a few days." She dug her toes into the carpet. "And I've been really worried about him, and on my way to dance class…." She heaved a big breath.

Her mother placed her cup of tea on the table while her father folded his newspaper. Julie scratched her head and pointed behind her. "He's on the couch and he's pretty beaten up."

"What?" Julie's mother heaved herself out of her chair and hurried to the living room. She placed her hand under his chin and lifted his face. He tried to look away but she held him.

"Paul, that's a friend of his, says he's got bruised ribs too." Julie stood next to her mother.

"Bill, get the first aid kit, please." She brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. "What happened?"

"Got in a fight." His tone was sullen. He didn't make eye contact.

"His brother beat him up," Julie said. "Then threw him out of the apartment."

Her father returned and handed the kit to his wife. Trying to be careful, she cleaned the cuts and dabbed some ointment on his injuries. Leaning close to her husband, she whispered, "I think the one over his eye could use a couple of stitches.

"Let me see your ribs."

Robert understood Mr. Anderson's words were a command. He stood and winced as he pulled off his shirt. His right side was blotched with large dark bruises.

Julie's father made a fist and compared the size of it to Robert's bruises. "I think we should get you to a hospital."

"No." A look of mild panic crossed Robert's face.

"I'll come too." Julie touched his arm.

He turned to reach for his shirt, grunted then coughed. Julie reached around him, picked it up and helped him put it on. Her father left the room and returned with his keys in hand. Julie led the way to the car.

Mrs. Anderson called from the door, "I'll get the guest room ready."

As her father drove to the hospital, Julie looked out the window at the Halloween decorations on the neighbourhood houses. The pretend horrors of Halloween melted into oblivion next to what she was beginning to understand Robert had experienced.

Her father cleared his throat. "Is this the North Shore student you were telling us about?"

Julie nodded.

"The one who saved you from Christopher?"

Again she nodded.

"The one I said you were to have nothing to do with?"

For the third time, Julie nodded. She had to. She couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Explanation, please."

"Thursday when I got home from work." Robert's voice floated from the back seat. "Mike was at the apartment. His temper's short and mean when he's sober. Worse when he's drunk."

Julie turned to face him. Robert's eyelids were shut and his head rested on the back ledge. "I came to on the sidewalk. Don't remember ending up at Paul's. Not even sure what day it is." He lifted his head and his gaze met Julie's. "Ya know Francine's right. You're Westland. I'm Shore."

"Francine? What's she got to do with this?"

"She said I was no good for ya, 'cause I'm Shore." He dropped his head back on the ledge. "She said…if I didn't stay 'way…from ya she'd…she'd…." He yawned then stifled a groan.

"One more question. Paul says you won't fight Mike. You won't hit him. Why take the beating?"

For a moment, Robert said nothing. Thinking he'd fallen asleep, Julie shifted to face the front.

"Mike's the only blood I got." His voice was low. "He hates me 'cause I'm smarter than he is. Mike's a loser and he knows it. I'll never be rich, but I ain't gonna end up dead in some alley."

"Ssh now." Julie gazed out the front window.

They arrived at Midtown Urgent Care and helped Robert to a chair at the Admittance desk. "Name?" asked the receptionist.

"Holiday – Robert James Holiday. There's a file. Gunshot wound about two years ago." His pulled a card out of his wallet and handed it to the receptionist.

"You have medical insurance?" Julie whispered.

"Yea, kinda need it."

"Current address, 36B Davis Street, North Shore?" The receptionist waited for a reply. Robert rubbed his forehead while trying to remember Paul's address.

"1206 Crestview Avenue, Westland." Both Robert and Julie snapped their heads in the direction of Mr. Anderson. Julie smiled. Robert scratched his head and glanced at the floor.

A few questions later, they moved to the waiting area. Looking at Robert, Julie fought the urge to offer compassion and pity. The suffering she read in his eyes wasn't only from this beating, but from a lifetime of troubles. She knew any pity offered now would cause more pain than Mike's fists. Instead, she sat and waited.

Two hours later, a nurse escorted Robert to an examination room. He exited with an intern who briefed Julie's father on Robert's condition.

In the car, Mr. Anderson explained what the doctor told him. "He has several bruised ribs and a couple of cracked ones. The doctor said we should let him sleep, and if possible, get one of these pills into him." He shook a little brown bottle. "You did the right thing, but I don't know if I like you two being friends. I heard the whispered comment about gang members, and if I've got the right name, he's been through my department and many others."

Julie stared out the side window. She guessed silence was the best response. When they arrived home, she led Robert to the guest room then dragged herself to her room, changed and crawled into bed.

***

The ballerina clock on her night table read 11:05. Julie was still asleep. In her dream, she floated across the stage in a crisp white tutu and pink satin pointe shoes. The music swelled and she spun until her final dramatic pose froze her in time. The audience rose in a tumultuous ovation. Roses rained down upon her. One bumped her shoulder, then another – no? She opened her eyes. Robert, dressed in his blue jeans, stood beside her bed. His eyes were dull and his chin darkened with several days' growth of stubble.

He knelt next to her and winced as he leaned on the bed. "What am I doing here?"

"Don't you remember?" Suddenly aware of how flimsy her nightgown was, Julie covered herself with her blanket.

"I don't remember much." He moved to stand, but a spasm shot through him. When the pain subsided, he straightened up. "I'm hungry."

Julie got out of bed, put on her robe and led him downstairs. "I'm not a great cook." She looked around the kitchen, hoping for meal suggestions. "Eggs? Toast? Soup and a sandwich?"