"Ezra!" I yell as I stumble through the side door, tryin' to keep three overloaded bags
of groceries an' my keys from hittin' the floor. "Standish, get your butt out here an' help
me!"
Then I hear an ominous tearin' sound, an' I don't have time ta wait fer Ezra.
Staggerin' into our semi-dark kitchen, I just make it ta the table 'fore one of the bags rips
wide open. Thank God it ain't the one with the eggs in it. Everythin' tumbles across the
table in a scattered heap, an' I'm pretty sure that jangling noise was the keys hittin' the
linoleum.
"Ezra, come on!" I call out again. Fumblin' fer the light switch, I turn it on. Light
floods the small room, an' I blink a few times 'fore lookin' around fer my partner. He's
nowhere ta be found.
Cussin' under my breath, I take my frustration out on the mess on the table an' soon
have most of it put away. As I cool off, I start ta get a bit worried. Ezra shoulda
answered me by now. I know he's home because his car is parked outside, an' he would
have left me a note if he was going out for a walk or something. Leavin' the rest of the
groceries where they are, I leave the kitchen ta find out what's goin' on.
Ez ain't in the living room so I head back to our bedroom. A low thumpin' sound is
comin' from that part of the house, an' as I get closer, I recognize it as music. Trippin'
over an extension cord, I realize he musta pulled the stereo inta the bedroom again. Why
we don't just get one fer both rooms is beyond me, but at least now I know why he didn't
hear me. I don't know whether ta be relieved or go back ta being annoyed.
While I'm still decidin', I push the door open, an' I'm immediately hit with the loud
strains of . . . the BeeGees?! I shake my head as if ta clear it, but nothing can rid my ears
of "Stayin' Alive" played at top volume. But what really gets me is the sound of slightly
off-key singing coming from the bathroom. Oh, this is just too good . . .
Tip-toein' across the bedroom, I move ta a spot where I have a clear view of the
entire bathroom, but I'm not so easily seen. 'Fore I even look in, I'm stiflin' the nearly
hysterical urge ta laugh, especially when Ezra hits a really off note. Usually his singin' is
wonderful but that definitely ain't the case tonight. I get control of myself an' peek
inside. The sight nearly takes my breath away.
At first, it's 'cause I'm once again tryin' my damndest not fall ta the floor laughing.
I'd find Ezra singin' in the shower. Instead, I find him singin' and dancin'. I
don't care if yer that Barynshnikov guy Ez went on an on about the other day, yer goin'
ta look like an idiot dancin' 'round naked. An' Ezra – well, John Travolta he ain't, but
that ain't stoppin' him. He's happily disco-in' his way 'round the clawfoot tub situated
squarely in the middle of the room. Since our bathroom is easily one of the largest rooms
in the house – it's one of the reasons we took the place – he's got plenty of room ta
maneuver.
An' maneuver he does. Singin' enthusiastically inta the shower attachment, Ezra
goes through his entire repertoire of disco moves then starts all over again. He adds a
few steps that I'm positive never occurred ta anyone in the '70s, but when a particularly
energetic twirl spins him 'round in my direction, there's a wide, happy grin on his face.
Oxygen deserts me again, but fer a very different reason this time. I can count the
number of times I've seen Ezra dance so freely on one hand an' still have fingers left
over. When we're out with the guys, he tends to leave the dance floor to me, Buck an'
JD. I've never gotten why outta him, though I suspect it has somethin' ta do with him not
seein' himself as I see him. I did learn quickly not ta press him 'bout it. He gets
withdrawn an' moody when pushed. I prefer him smiling.
Watchin' him dance now, oblivious ta my presence, I am struck by how graceful he
actually is. Sure, I'd never seen those steps in any club I'd been in, but Ezra seemed
ta . . . I don't know, feel the music, I guess, an' he just lets his body move with
that feelin'. How could I have thought he looked ridiculous before? Now all I can see is
how beautiful he is, in a way entirely new ta me. Grace personified. Joy uninhibited. I
stand there, gaping, in awe an' in love, all over again.
Ezra's beauty an' his freedom with, nah, within, the music makes me want
ta join in his wild, sensuous dance. Actin' without thinkin' on that desire, I step outta the
shadows on his next pass an' catch him around the waist. As my arms close around him,
he lets out a yelp an' jumps about a foot inta the air. I tighten my hold on him in helpless
reaction, which only panics him more. The shower attachment hits the floor with a loud
thud as Ezra instinctively begins ta struggle against me.
I didn't mean ta scare him, an' with all his martial arts training, I know I better do
something quick 'fore one of us gets hurt. The solution hits me almost immediately.
Careful ta avoid those flailin' arms, I lean close enough ta whisper "Ezra" directly inta
his ear.
His reaction is even better than I hoped for. With a soft exclamation of my name, all
fighting ceases, an' with an instinct very different from the one before, Ezra arches back
inta me. I quickly adjust my embrace so that my hands settle on his waist an' let my
thumbs trace small, idle circles on his hipbones. He responds with a low, throaty sound,
almost a purr, an' brings his own hands up ta lazily stroke my forearms.
We stand there like that for some time, content ta simply be with each other.
Eventually, though, I want more an' I tilt my head forward just enough ta scatter a few
gentle, butterfly kisses on the curve of his right shoulder. On one of his down strokes,
Ezra laces our fingers together an' tugs lightly until my hands are pressed flat against his
chest. He holds them there over the steady thrum of his heart an' snuggles closer inta me,
sighin' quiet-like, but I can almost hear him smilin'.
The song's changed, the boogie-beat of "Stayin' Alive" changin' inta the quieter
melody of "How Deep Is Your Love?" I couldn't answer that question now if it was
handed ta me. Ezra is swaying happily again, takin' me with him, an' my love knows no
depth. God, I knew - I knew he loved me, but this . . . now I know he trusts me, too.
Trusts me with this hidden, untamed side of himself, an' that's an even greater gift than
his love.
Full ta bursting with emotions that I just don't have the words ta express, I try ta say
them with Ezra's method instead. I twist my hands gently outta his grip an' close them
'round his. He lets me turn him 'round, an' I see that I was right – he is smiling. I feel an
answering grin stretch my mouth, an' I laugh, pullin' him close an' spinnin' him 'round.
Ezra starts ta laugh, too, an' together, we dance our way 'round the bathtub in a pattern
fer two we make up as we go along.
The End
Continues in Dancin' in the Dark
