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He was lying on the bed, absolutely grey. I ran to him, dropping the tinfoil. It fell to the ground with an odd thunk noise. I tilted his head back, put my mouth to his and breathed out, started chest compressions, administering CPR before realizing that my lips had touched only cold. My knees buckled, and I landed on the floor by the side of the bed. Didn’t he have a do not resuscitate, anyway? By how cold he was, he might have been dead for hours. Still I felt I should feel for a pulse, because even though I could sense he was long gone, what if I were wrong? There was no pulse. I put my forehead down on the bed near his hip. ‘No,’ I said. He was doing so well. ‘Why couldn’t you just get asparagus?’ It was a ridiculous thing to say, as if, if he had been able to go to the store to get a vegetable everything would have been fine. I took out my phone and dialed 911. ‘What’s the nature of your emergency?’ a female operator said. It took me a few tries to speak. I guess it wasn’t an. Kayla wearing a bikini. What the hell …? The intro stopped and Kayla’s arms went up as she threw her hips into the four rapid crescendos. She started walking again as the song resumed with a slow guitar riff. His poor old sopping wet T-shirt fell forgotten from his fingers into the dust. She danced and strutted nearer with a smile that faded and was replaced with a wanton sort of look, stopping once to grind her hips downward as though she was doing a pole dance. At the bottom of the move, she recognized a line that she’d liked and mouthed the words that she could remember to herself as she danced. ‘Quit my job, I’m a lazy slob Never lift a finger ‘cept for my heartthrob. I’m a sinpusher, hangin’ on the DL…’ The four crescendos came again and she threw herself deeper into the tune by hitting every one. When she’d tossed her long mane in the middle of standing up again, she smiled just a little at him and her hands reached up behind her. She maintained her connection to the rhythm.
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