Year 18

-Chapter 10-

Men waltz by with champagne on platters, and I grab a glass, not intending to drink it. Charlie grabs one too, but doesn't hesitate before taking a sip or two.

I elbow him in the side, gently, but with enough force that he flinches, looking over at me. "Let's stay sober for this one," I mock, not wanting to be hurtful, but already too on edge to care about my tone.

"I'd think you'd want me to get a little tipsy," Charlie counters, "that way maybe I'd spill a few secrets."

"Charlie, you and I both know I don't need the champagne's help. Somewhere deep down you still trust me. Even if you don't trust Kane, I know you trust me."

"What makes you so sure?" Charlie asks, inconspicuously dumping his champagne into a potted fern as we pass by.

"Because we trust the people we love, Charlie. It's why we give people so many chances, even if they hurt us. We still trust them deep down, and we love them for who they are and who they've been. It's why I still trust you despite what you did to Kane."

"Are you saying you love me, Felisha Martins?"

I smile, but there's no joy in it. "You know I do, but that doesn't change anything. We're friends, Charlie. Family even. I hope you still believe that."

Instead of answering, Charlie grabs my hand and pulls me out toward the dance floor which is already alive with men and women waltzing their way around the room. I feel queasy as we join in, not feeling confident this time, not that I felt very confident last time I danced here either. But with Kane, he made me feel as though I could dance, and that even if I missed a step, or fumbled a bit, he'd be there to make sure it was all okay. Tonight, he's not here, and while I do- despite my better judgement- still trust Charlie, my confidence is faltering.

"Let's dance," Charlie smiles, and we start to move with the music, our postures rigid and less relaxed than the couples around us. I watch the other party-goers as they cling to their dance partners, as they whisper assurances to each other, breathing the same air, sharing their space. For Charlie and I it is less natural. We probably look a little awkward, our movements not as in sync as those around us, our faces and touches not as idyllic as everyone else's. But I'm sure if they were in our shoes, their smiles would be a little less amiable, their dancing a little less lucid.

"I wanted to do this last time," Charlie whispers, his lips touching the tip of my ear, "but I'm pretty sure that Lady Paula and Sir Whigham might have raised more than a few eyebrows."

I can't help but laugh.

I laugh despite everything. Despite that fact that this glimpse of Charlie is a Charlie that is no longer truly here. Despite the fact that Kane spent weeks locked in a Cell, and despite the fact that I am now doing the same. I garner a few looks from those around us, but I don't care. I latch onto the joy, the pure bliss of laughing and truly meaning it. The pure euphoria of just being able to be in the moment.

The smile on Charlie's face is worth the embarrassment of everyone stopping to look our way. Charlie starts to laugh too, a low rumble at first. Everyone looks on with weary gazes, unsure of what we're doing. Charlie's teeth gleam white, his eyes crinkling on the edges. For one moment we are allowed to truly enjoy ourselves. If I could pause this moment right here, I would. I don't care that everyone thinks we're crazy, and maybe we are, but right here right now none of what has happened recently matters. We aren't fighting. We aren't against each other. We're sharing this moment, and that's enough.

"Come on," Charlie says, still laughing, pulling me off the dance floor. He pulls me through many hallways and back to a little alcove not much different than the one Kane and I drew the Year Movement symbol on. He sinks to the floor, short of breath from laughing so hard. I follow suit, not worried about my skirt or how it may wrinkle.