Of A Certain Age

Couples dance to the light music in the reception hall. Allan tries to cheer me up with his horrible dancing but even that can't shake me from Wilson's news and it's hard to dance with a hurt leg and stockings rubbing my scraped knees. 

"Did you know?" I ask Allan.

"Did I know what?" He sees the look on my face and decides not to play dumb. "Dad didn't want you to be nervous. He told us not to say anything."

"I was going to find out somehow."

Allan nods. He spins me around and brings me close to him again. "He was hoping you wouldn't find out until later."

"Why does Dad have to treat me like a baby?"

"You are a baby. You can't drive, you can't vote, you haven't graduated-"

"You're only four years older than me," I remind him.

"Those four years make a difference. We'll have months to talk about it, fight about it, and hear all the leftist language about us on T.V. Today isn't the day to worry."

"Does Dad want it to pass?"

Allan misses a step. "It would be better if it did. But you can't say that. You can't tell people you think they should have to die to make your life better."

"What do you want?"

Allan shrugs. "I live either way. Everyone I love lives. Don't forget that." Allan doesn't say anything else. Bits and pieces of other people's conversations float on top of the music. People talk about their recent vacations, golf plans, business deals, things of the like. No one mentions The Bill although they must know about it. Perhaps they think like Allan. They won't be the ones dying, so why worry?

Thom and Victoria dance a few couples away. He grins in amusement at her lighthearted dancing. Thom whispers something to her and she tilts her head back and laughs. I stop staring.

"Think she could teach me a move or two?" Allan asks.

"You have two left feet. I doubt anyone could help you."

"I didn't get the fancy ballet classes you did." Allan lets go of my hand and weaves through the crowd. He shakes hands with Thom and exchanges a few  laughs with him. Thom's eyebrows are knitted in confusion. Next thing I know, Victoria is holding Allan's hand, kindly guiding him in a few of her own dance steps and Thom is making his way over to me. The room suddenly feels too small. 

"I didn't ask Allan to do that." I give Thom a friendly smile as I take his hand. He rests his other hand far up on my back and takes care not to stand too close.  "Were you enjoying yourself?"

"I was." Thom glances back at Victoria. She's too amused by Allan's poor dancing to notice.

"You think what I did was stupid, don't you?"

"Of course, I don't," Thom says gently.

"It worked out for the better, I think. One less person who'll be euthanized." 

Thom's mouth drops open. "Who told you?"

"Wilson. You could have told me."

"It wasn't my place," Thom explains. "Gabrielle said not to talk about it in front of you." He looks  around as if he fears she'll hear him. 

I frown. "We said we wouldn't keep secrets. What Gabrielle says doesn't matter."

"It does for me." Thom sighs again. "I don't want to talk about this right now. It'll blow over in a few weeks." Maybe he's right. Every time the news is on it always seems like people are angry about something new. Maybe if people can get over higher taxes and food prices they can eventually get over this too.