SPOTLIGHT by Dora Dresden Page B

she’d always been privy to William’s never-ending series of personal concerts.
     
                “I think I’ve got a few more square inches on you, yea. But don’t worry, Len more than makes up for it in the rent. Perks of being in a corner apartment.” William said. He scrunched up his face into a grumpy scowl, a perfect impersonation of their money-grubbing landlord that had Abby giggling for a full minute.
     
                William gestured to the futon and Abby took a seat gingerly, worrying the whole thing would slip from its metal frame or unfold under her weight.  Boys , she thought fondly.
     
    William had wandered into the kitchen. “I’d offer you refreshments but the choices are only water and water.”
     
Abby laughed again. “I guess I’ll have water then, please.”
     
    He came back carrying two bottles of water. He kept one for himself and tossed the other one to Abby which she caught deftly. He grinned at her like he was proud and surprised at her ability to catch.
     
                “So what did you want to ask me?” Abby asked when he had taken a seat in his desk chair.
     
                Okay so I’m stalling, I’m allowed to stall,  she thought to herself wryly.
     
                William nodded. He paused to open and take a long sip from his water bottle before speaking.  Maybe he’s stalling too,  Abby thought, suddenly a little nervous.
     
                “It’s about what I asked you the other day,” William finally began. “About coming to a service with me. I get that you’re not into that and no pressure, but maybe something else? There’s a Fourth of July barbecue coming up. Just for a few people from the church that are our age. Think of it as an opportunity to meet new people. My friends would love to meet you. I think they’re starting to believe I’m making you up.”
     
                Abby felt a new surge of regret at her lack of openness. Here William was trying to open himself up, to share every aspect of himself with her so that they one day might start a relationship, but Abby was holding back as she always did.  No more,  she said to herself.
     
    Abby stood from the futon and walked to where William was sitting. He looked up at her so earnest and hopeful that she wanted to take him into her arms, to embrace him as they had yet to embrace, but she resisted. It would only be another stalling tactic and the time for that had passed.
     
                Instead she picked up the wrinkled tie that hung behind him from the back of his chair. The tie was a pale, steely blue, the exact same color as his eyes, and she held it in her hands folding it and refolding it, trying to smooth out the wrinkles as she finally started to speak.
     
                “I used to have a sister,” Abby heard herself say at last. “I used to be a twin.”
     
                Abby dared to look up as she spoke that last part. William face didn't change from its solemn consideration as she explained and the only indication that he had even heard was the slight squinting of his eyes. Abby found she couldn't watch his stony face lest she be overtaken by emotion. She looked down at the tie again.
     
                “I used to be a twin, but my sister died,” she took a deep shuddering breath. She knew she was repeating herself but nothing that her mouth was saying was going as she planned. The emotion was flooding her and she spoke straight from her heavy heart. “I've never had to say that to anyone before. You see back home in South Meadow everyone knew everyone. It was just that sort of town. So of course when Angelica passed away everyone knew.”
     
                “Everyone,” William echoed dully and Abby took it as a question.
     
                “Really, everyone. My sister was sort of a local celebrity. She used to sing, in church at first and