Page 31 of Codename: Dustoff
“Oh golly no. You’d be amazed what they’ve achieved in neuro-biotics. They can actually attach arms to nerves and tissue. You’d have basic functionality in some ways as if you never lost your arm.”
I ran my hand against the back of my head, considering what she said.
“Truth is the rail yard gave me some money for injury. Said it was to help get me settled with a new arm and cover expenses and whatnot. But it barely covered the hospital bills. By the time we paid off the emergency room and the surgeon, I had just enough to go to community college and buy into Finn’s bar. And now it’s been so long, I don’t think it would ever be a possibility even if I wanted to.”
“Well, if you ever decide you want to at least talk to a doctor…I can put you in touch with mine.”
There was a local band playing songs quietly in the corner of the room. As people finished their main courses and waited for dessert to be plated, a few meandered up to where the band circled around the Christmas tree and started dancing.
“Will you do me a big favor?” I asked, just as the band switched into “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”
“What?” She looked at me, then blushed and lowered her eyelids, so I could only see the metallic swipe of eyeshadow on her lids and her lush eyelashes.
I stood, taking a deep breath, steeling myself for her rejection. Silently I begged she be open to my suggestion. I extended my hand to her with a smile before asking, “Dance with me?”
The rejection formed on her lips, furrowing her brow, milliseconds after I asked her.
“We don’t have to go up there.” I nodded towards the stage. “You’ve shared so much with me today, and I just really want to feel you close while I still have to finish up the party. Just one song?”
I watched her bite her lip while she considered it. She turned and stole a glance at the makeshift stage before turning back towards me. With a resigned sigh, she put her napkin on the table and begun scooting, accepting my hand to help her up.
“When I was a little kid,” I whisper, her cheek resting against mine while we slowly danced right in front of the booth we’d occupied, “I used to wonder if my mom and dad ever danced like they did on TV shows. They obviously had to have feelings for one another to get married and make me.”
Amelia pulled her head away from my cheek to look me in the eyes, and chuckled when I wiggled my eyebrows at me.
“But I never saw my dad with anyone. My whole life he spent it alone. I like to think it was because he was so in love with my mom that losing her hurt as much as losing a piece of himself.”
“He never talked about her?” Amelia asked, running her hand along my jaw. I just shook my head. I couldn’t explain the complexity that was my pa without ruining the magic bubble that surrounded us.
“My parents can’t keep their hands off each other.” She laughed. “If the nine kids weren’t evident enough, they take every opportunity to kiss, canoodle, make out—however you want to frame it. Even now. At nearly seventy. There has never been a day in my life that I ever doubted how much they loved one another and all of us.”
“I guess you could say despite being hill poor you were rich with love.”
She looked up at me, and the emotion I saw in her eyes made me nearly lose my step and trip us both. I must have had way too much wine, because the look in her eyes felt too tender to be a passing interest in me. That maybe she actually did want to date me, potentially even love me someday.