Rachel Alexander 04 - Lady Vanishes by Carol Lea Benjamin Page B

motion, waiting for a signal to hype up his schmooze. Apparently it came, because he suddenly leaned in, giving David just enough of his weight that had David moved, Dash would have, too.
    But David didn’t move. I watched his hands, to see if they’d relax the way they had earlier, but this time I saw something else. Now it appeared that David was moving his fingers in time to the singing.
    I felt something like a cool breeze on my skin, a fluttering in my chest. Some things did seem to get inside and touch this inscrutable man. If that were so, wasn’t it possible that something could get out, too?
    I walked up slowly, and not wanting to startle David, I sighed so that he would know I was behind him. If Eli Kagan wanted workers to knock on doors before entering residents’ rooms, this was the equivalent, as best as I could figure out.
    I stood, as last time, so that Dashiell was in the middle, never greeting David, nor looking directly at him. For a moment, I watched the singers. Only about half the people gathered were actually singing or humming, the rest sitting, staring at the remains of dessert or at nothing much at all.
    Samuel Kagan was leading the group. Dance therapy on Monday, singing on Tuesday, a man of many talents and endless dedication, I thought, watching him work. He appeared to be in his early forties. The zealous look on his face was not unlike the spaced-out look of the Moonies, the incandescent lights from above making his nude bean shine, all the more so since it was slick with sweat. He had a round face, a roundish nose, full lips, and a great broom of a mustache. He bounced on the balls of his feet, singing as loud and as clear as a human being could without shouting, his short-fingered hands chopping the air forcefully as he conducted his little choir with such fervor, you’d think there was going to be a performance tomorrow.
    For a while I became so enthralled watching him, his short, chunky body, shirt soaked with sweat despite the air conditioning, energetically tapping his feet and moving around, that I forgot all about David. Then I remembered what had happened earlier; one way or another, I’d passed by him without seeing him. Some people do that, I thought; the opposite of the vibrant, little man leading the singing, energy swirling about him, they pull their energy in, so far that they become almost invisible, like prey animals who change their color to blend in with the environment, their only protection against the predators. I wondered if this was just the way David was, if he had been born like this, or if something had damaged him so severely that he needed to hide this way, thinking of what Venus said, how he tugged at her, how even as closed as he was, he’d taken her heart.
    I sat then, cross-legged on the floor. After a moment, David sat, leaving only Dashiell standing, but not for long. This time, based on their earlier communion, Dashiell slipped artfully down David’s leg, but not into a sit. Instead, he moved his body forward, so that when he finished sliding, he lay across David’s lap, gazing up at him with adoration.
    The song ended, and Samuel began to clap, those residents who could joining in. When that was that, he turned, noticed me, and came over.
    “Samuel Kagan,” he said, bending down to shake my hand, his eyebrows rising, asking my name.
    “Rachel Alexander,” I said, my eyebrows staying right where they were, “and Dashiell,” since he was too occupied to introduce himself.
    At the sound of his name, Dashiell lifted his head, sneezed, took a sniff, then sighed and laid his head back on David’s lap. Samuel squatted so that we’d be face to face, reaching out for my hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’m so glad you’ve joined the team,” he said, leaving my hand warm and damp.
    A thin stream of saliva glistened at the comer of David’s mouth, stringing its way down to Dashiell’s side. I was finally going to have a use for those paper towels