Chapter 12
**
"… happy birrrrthday to youuuuuu…"
That’s the fifth time I’ve heard it tonight, I think, smiling despite myself.
The lawns and fields to the rear of my manor look like a… yes, a travelling circus, I think, pulling an image from some of the old films that Erin likes. Lanterns on poles, and colorfully striped canvas pavillions, and whole pigs and oxen roasting over fires. The sounds of music touch the air like scents; somewhere a mandolin is being plaid, something old and plaintive and sweet. I look down at the bridle Bret has given me and smile; the leather is dark-shining and supple, worked with rosettes… beautiful and pure utility at the same time.
"Wonderful," I say sincerely, testing the tight-sewn flexible strength of it once more, and pass it back to Mahwel, my new kawtuh – he’s Tamar’s gift, and a sleek black-furred golden-eyed beauty. Qualified as a pilot and bodyguard, and literally bushy-tailed with excitement, right now. "It’s always a pleasure to see really good work."
He ducks his head and vanishes into the crowd below the terrace; mostly humans down there. There are a dozen or so Draka here behind the building with me, and all of them seem to be enjoying themselves. The Rockettes were quite impressive.
I walk down the steps myself, nodding right and left as more congratulations go by me; Mahwel gets more looks that I do. I sample a rack of pork ribs rich with some tangy sauce, crunching the bones for the texture and sweet marrow; Mahwel joins me. A little further along are two big hundred-gallon oak casks of Gwendolyn Hall’s wine, the new vintage – not subtle yet, but fruity and rich, with a slightly buttery tang like a Merlot. A smaller keg holds bourbon, a local brand – Maker’s Mark, very smooth. I toss back a glass and then sip another; my kawtuh is lapping his, purring with pleasure.
"Better than brandy, muhmis!" he says.
"As good," I say, stroking his back. It arches under my hand, the fur soft and velvet-dark.
"Another," I say to the attendant at the barrel. She draws it, the firelight ruddy on her bronze-brown hair.
"You’re… Jenny McQueen," I say. Just turned sixteen, I remember, which is why she’s here and not back in the village. A… what do they call it? Cheerleader, that’s it. I bend and hoist, and she’s sitting in the crook of my arm.
"Eeek!" she says, halfway between fright and delight. She subvocalizes: muhmis herself oh my oh lord the big furry cat-thing will he…
"I’m a kawtuh," Mahwel says, mock-reproving. "And yes I will, all sorts of ways, pretty little human wench. Nobody’s complained yet, overlord or servus or kawtuhs or your kind either."
The new stables are dark and mostly quiet; there’s a rustling from one of the other loose-boxes though… Yes, Gunnar and Dianne and one of the Rockettes, I think. Not to mention Alexa, Patrick and yet another Rockette in another… well, they are dancers, I think indulgently.
Jenny is a little nervous as she undresses; more than a little at Mahwel’s rampant interest when he unbuckles his short kilt. "You wait a little," I say to the transgene; he gives a whimper of frustration and sinks down gracefully on the blanket-covered straw, tongue dangling as he pants and watches bright-eyed.
"Don’t worry," I go on to the human as I set her down, skinning her tunic over her head. "By the time you feel fur on skin, you’ll want to." I kiss her long and hard, then grin at her flushed face, clear to me in the dimness, and at the scent of her response. My hands rove, stripping and caressing her, and she gasps; I bear her to the blankets, hands and lips busy. "The night is young and it’s a surprise party."
An hour and a half later I rise, stretching and reaching for my robe. Jenny-the-cheerleader is still occupied with Mahwel, in a grappling, heaving tangle of white and pink and black fur-clad suppleness. I hear her squeal and his throbbing growl as the fabric falls around my head. When I shrug it into place she’s lying back sighing, and he crouches over her and playfully licks her face.
"Enough," I say, chuckling.
**
"Well, how’d it go?" asks Ariadne, tugging at my sleeve.
"How’d what go?" I look into her eyes, level with my own, even though she’s half my age.
"Oh, you know… springing the surprise on Ma!" She laughs delightedly. "Her face must’ve been priceless to see. Sorry I missed it!"
"Well, if you and a certain someone," I nod at my daugher, May, standing behind the young Draka, "hadn’t been riding hell for leather over hill and dale, at such an early hour…"
"Aw, Ma…" they say in unison.
"Okay, okay…" I hold up my hands, first wiping them on a linen napkin. "It was kinda funny. We met her for breakfast, as usual, and Alice said something about ‘Isn’t it your birthday, Muhmis?’. She just grinned a little and nodded, and we all went on eating. Then," I continue after a sip of wine, "then… things started happening."
"What?" Both girls sit down, one on either side of me.
"Well, Muhmis asked me what was on my schedule for the day, if I wanted to go riding with her," I start.
Ariadne cuts me off. "Oh, yeah… heard that one before!"
"No, no… really, on a horse, and everything. I’ve been taking all those damn riding lessons for…"
We all start laughing then, my face turning beet red. Jennifer walks over, champagne glass in hand. "Into the funny juice all ready? Girls, girls…"
That sets off a new gale of hilarity, until the three of us sitting down are wiping tears away. Jennifer looks rather peeved, so I reach back and grab her hand as she starts to walk away. "Hey, don’t go, Jenny, we’re just goofing. I was telling the kids here how this morning went…"
"Oh, yeah? I was wondering, myself. I had to schedule that gorky vidconference with Greenspan and his group. The world currency… ach, what a headache. So, tell."
"Okay, where was I? Oh, yeah…she wanted to know if I wanted to go on a horse ride with her. I said I thought I might have something on my schedule. Then uhmas De Lange almost ruined everything by snorting into his orange juice. Gwen’s eyes got big, and she just stared at him, then me…"
The women laugh, imagining what Muhmis must have thought was going on between her head of security and her Prime Counselor saafn. I nibble on some more corn bread—can’t drink like I usually would, with the baby and all—and wait for relative calm. "Then…"
"Yeah?"
"Then she just winked at me, really slowly, and said, ‘Well, don’t get too extreme, dears,’ and got up from the table. Just then, the first aircars started coming in, and she saw the tents being set up. Her mouth sort of dropped open for a minute, especially when Tamarindus buzzed the patio, and about knocked all of us and breakfast too, off into the bushes…"
The wind from the passing aircar had buffeted us around, and we all tried to hang on to whatever we could; I clearly remember seeing Shawonda holding on to the bread basket for dear life. My hair got whipped all over the place, and Diane was squeaking about hers, holding both hands to her head. Not that that helped much. Gwen just stood there, looking down onto the grounds, and occasionally up into the air, identifying aircars as they came in for landing.
"Muhmis walked over to me, and picked me up out of my chair, holding me up to meet her eyes. I was a little worried, then, because she wasn’t smiling. Well, to be honest, I was scared half-senseless. Then I looked into her eyes, and saw that she was amused. I don’t know how I knew… she asked me who was behind all this mess. All I could do was grin like a possum. Then she swatted my behind, and kissed me. Tamarindus was coming up onto the walkway by then, and she yelled out something like, ‘Wait, let me help interrogate the wench!’ Muhmis put me down, swatting me lightly again, and put her arm around me and then around Tamarindus."
"So she didn’t like, sneep out or anything?" Ariadne says, somewhat disappointedly.
"No, if sneeping means losing it, or freaking out. The closest she came was her mouth dropping open about an inch. That’s all."
"For Muhmis, that’s like one of us falling on the floor in a fit," laughs Jennifer. "Wish I had seen it!"
"So did they, um, well, interrogate you?" Ariadne says. May gives her a kick under the table.
"Ari!!"
"No," I chuckle, "but Muhmis Gwen did promise I’d have an interesting evening later on…"
"Ma!!" May yells, crimson. I shrug, miming innocence, and tousle her hair. "Mama! My hair! Quit!"
"Ach, kids, these days…" I say to Jennifer, who’s smiling at us from her perch on the edge of the table. She rolls her eyes expressively and nods.
"Not a thing like we were, huh?"
**
I munch an Altoids as I walk back to the house; of all the pregnancies I’ve had, this is the first one where I really crave something, and the British mints are just the thing. Besides having to find a bathroom every fifteen minutes, it seems like, this pregnancy’s not so bad. No more morning sickness; didn’t even get sick once, I grin to myself. The worst part about that part of carrying a baby is that you never have any warning. I’ve had to dash out of meetings, duck behind bushes, even stuck my head in a bucket once down here, when I was carrying Ariadne.
The party’s getting a little wild, even for Draka standards. No bloodshed or anything like that, but lots of, well, energetic friskiness. More and different combinations that I’ve ever seen… I watch four going at it near the kitchen pavilion; two Draka, two humans, everyone all hot and bothered. The pheromones in the air are affecting me somewhat, as well as the visual and auditory stimuli, I say analytically to myself, and blushing, go inside the House.
There’s more quiet here; not as many party-goers inside as out. For some reason, the Draka seem to prefer things, well, al fresco, I think, as I walk up the broad marble steps. They sweep down into the entrance way from the second floor. It makes a damn impressive sight to see folks coming down this thing, I muse, running my hands along the cool stone of the handrail, when they’re all gussied up. Last Christmas was a good example of that. I never saw Alice look more beautiful than she did when she slowly came down these stairs, hair in an extravagant pile on her head, long black gown draped over her shoulders. It highlighted the pearly silkiness of her complection, and even Gwen took a second look. After that look, I knew that unless Gwen took us both that night, I wouldn’t be hearing Ally snore…
Inside, too, the scents of the evening are muted. The tangy, smoky smell of the barbeque is not very strong at all, nor is the wood smoke. The bouquet of magnolias in a huge glass vase at the head of the stairs lets out its own perfume, and it takes me back, as it always does, to moonlight, Spanish moss, and Savannah. I close my eyes for a moment, inhaling, and remembering. Funny how such strong memories get associated with smell, I think. This one’s always tinged with nostalgia, a haunting feeling like nothing else I’ve ever felt.
I walk on past the flowers, down the panelled hallway, going down one wing of the huge House until I reach Ally’s and my quarters. It’s a spacious wing, off the main corridor, and away enough from the bustle and hustle of the main House to be private. The door recognizes me and I walk through into the living room. It’s tastefully decorated, if I may say so myself, I think, pausing a moment to look around. Patrick’s been here, I know, since there’s a box of taco chips on the coffee table. His current snack favorite. To me, they taste like cardboard with some paprika on them. I pick up the box and take it into the kitchen, putting it on the round oak table in the center of the room.
I can catch a whiff of Alice’s perfume; she must have doused herself liberally before the party. I didn’t have a chance to talk with her before the party itself began, but we managed to dress in fairly complementary colors by chance. I brush a few remaining crumbs off my dark blue silk blouse and smile. She’s such a shopper, I think, as I look into her room. Bags and boxes from the latest jaunt, this one to London, are still scattered all over the place, like a room after a Christmas morning.
Walking further back through the apartment, I reach my room; I sit down at the computer desk and tell it to come fully online. The holographic screen is projected in front of me, and the computer greets me with Tina Turner’s sexy voice. "Hello, Erin! How may I help you tonight?"
"Recall the file ‘Carpenter’, bring it up on screen, and then print it for me. Thanks, Tina. Any messages?"
"I’m recalling the file and printing it as you asked. Yes, you have a personal message from Alice. Would you like to read it, or have me read it to you?"
"Read it to me, why don’t you?"
" ‘Erin, this is your lover, Ally—as if you didn’t know—I’ll probably be spending tonight with Jennifer, unless Gwen or Schalk have different plans. Any probs with that? You’re more than welcome to come along, too, love… just let us know. We’ll probably be over at her place, later tonight. Give me a call. I sure do love you, Erin.’ That’s the end of the message, Erin. No others currently."
"Thanks, Tina."
"You’re welcome!"
There’s a soft hiss as the paper emerges from the printer, and I critically look over the calligraphy font, looking for any errors. Not finding any, I roll it up into a tube, and hunt around for a ribbon. I find some in Alice’s room, and snitch one. She’ll never miss it, I think smugly to myself. Not with all her mess laying around… I go back into my room, and tell "Tina" goodnight. The computer wishes me a nice evening, and then goes back to standby mode, the screen vanishing in a blink of white light. The room’s lights come up so I can see, but not too brightly. There’s a small package on my desk, wrapped in a ribbon of black silk; I heft it, admiring the job Ally did on wrapping it. I’ve always been such a klutz when it comes to wrapping things up, I think, thank God Alice’s better…
The ribbon-tied tube and the package go in one hand; I wave the lights down with the other and leave the room in darkness. Navigating my way through the home, I tell the rooms goodnight. It always feels funny to talk out loud to a room, but the embedded compinsets regulate light and temperature that way. It’s quite economical as well as convenient. I’m getting used to it, but slowly, even though it’s been a few years since almost all the houses on the planet have been built for the programs.
So much has changed, I think, as I walk back down the echoing, cool corridor, my boot heels making a scuffy sort of tapping noise along the inlaid wooden floors. Houses, education, health benefits… a few years ago, you would have been crazy to think that everyone on the planet could have those basic benefits, or life amenities, but now, after the Draka, we’ve pretty much made it global. There may be a few places which haven’t finished modernizing, but on the whole, the entire planet now is healthier.
The Alfen-wave drives and the emphasis the Draka have on convervation and ecology have made a huge difference in global pollution and now, fifteen years after the Arrival, petrochemicals are being phased out, slowly but surely. More and more cars are being replaced by mass-transit floaters, and houses are built to be intelligent, or they’re not built at all. The education system received a massive boost from the national defense funds, and the health benefits have been one of the saving graces of the Draka Arrival, for most people, I muse, as I walk down the broad marble steps in the front of the house.
I wish Mamaw and Papaw had lived to see the health benefits, especially. I miss them more and more, I realize, the older I grow. I don’t know what they’d have thought of the Arrival, but they would have enjoyed better health. Their last few years were painful ones. I wish I had been there when they were both so ill, but instead of being there, I was off on the wide blue sea, playing sailor. I sigh, remembering how gentle the big chief petty officer had been when he told me they had died within hours of each other, and how he had arranged leave for me. Chief Wannamaker, that’s who it was. He was a big Cherokee Indian from Oklahoma, I remember. Died when the Nimitz went down, like so many other good people…
The party’s going full steam ahead; I hear laughter and the whistle-pop-bang of fireworks. Children are running around, playing some sort of tag game, and their giggles seem to hang in the air like the multicolored lights from the rockets. There’s the occasional thrashing in the bushes to walk by, and sometimes couples walking hand in hand. I pass by Alexandra’s centaur, and he bows a greeting to me, and hoists two young boys to his back, grinning and trotting off, careful not to drop them. Their parents wave and clap, and I watch for a few moments, enjoying the sight.
"Say, where’ve you been, girl?" Tom says, an arm sliding around my waist.
"Oh, here and there… enjoying yourself?" I grin up into his face. He nods, blue eyes sparkling, and raises a wine glass. Torchlight shines through the blood-red wine, and he returns my grin.
"Oh, yes… muchly… Andri and I have been having a great deal of fun. How about you? Have you seen Alice?"
"No, not since dinner. I’ve been having a good time, though not as much as I usually would be, due to this" I nod downwards, at the bulge in my tummy, where Gwen and Schalk’s son waits and grows, "but it’s been festive. What’s our favorite Aussie up to?"
"Oh, she did a great rendition of Marilyn Monroe’s ‘Happy Birthday, Dear Archon’… you missed it. I think Diane’s boys and girls got it on vidcam, though, so you can see it later. Gwen actually turned a bit red near the end, and the cheers were pretty big."
"That girl!" I laugh, and hug him. I’m glad to see he’s chased away some of the demons that were haunting him, I think. We all have them; it’s a sign of the times, and something we each find different ways to cope with. "Seen Gwen around any time recently?"
Tom looks down at the two objects in my hand, the package and the tube of parchment paper tied with ribbon, and smiles. "No, the last time I saw her before Andri and I got… well, busy… was, let’s see… oh, yeah, she was going down to the stables with a wench in one arm and her new kawtuh in the other. He’s quite the pretty, isn’t he?"
"Yeah, he’s actually handsome, for a big cat-raccoon-humanoid furry guy." I wink at Tom. "But I’m sure you’d like to get to know him better, wouldn’t you?"
"Since you asked… yes, I would. But I think that’ll be sort of integrated into the routine, if you know what I mean. He’s not bad at all. Ducky, as Alice would say."
"Hey, listen, I wanted to give these little doodads to Gwen, so I’m heading down to the stables. Maybe the wild wenching is about done… although given Draka stamina, it may not be…" I giggle, and Tom winks back.
"You wouldn’t mind joining in…"
"Well… I’ll have to get used to the kawtuh, first, before I really enjoyed it. It’s different enough with a regular furry old guy," I chuckle, patting his fanny lightly. "But I’m sure I can adapt. I’m actually a little tired tonight, though; my back’s aching again. I thought I’d just track Gwen down and give these to her, and then beat a hasty retreat…"
"You heard what she said this morning… that you were going to have an interesting evening. But maybe she’ll let you postpone it till the sun comes up, since you are her brooder. Back bad? Can I help?"
I roll my eyes, and he blushes. "No, no, Erin, really. Would a massage help? I’ve gotten pretty darn good at those things, with all the coaching I get from Andri. If you want one, I’ll be glad to give one to you. On a platonic basis, if you prefer…"
"Oh, honey, you’re sweet. But no, I think I’ll take a raincheck, and turn in early tonight, if possible. I’m just tired, I think. Getting old, you know?" I reach up on my tiptoes and give him a peck on the cheek. "Thanks for being so nice last night. It was comforting to me, too, to spend it with you. On a platonic basis…"
"Sometimes it’s nice being a guy around you, you know?"
"What?"
"Well…" There’s a burst of cheering and then the strident beat of a Draka sword-dance song begins, and Tom waits until the yelling and clapping have died down somewhat. He goes on: "Well, like last night. I could have been frisky if you wanted to be, but you didn’t, and truthfully, I was really tired, and worn out, and stressed… and it’s nice to be able to say, ‘Let’s just sleep’ and not have hurt feelings, or crossed wires or anything. I appreciate that about you, Erin. I don’t have to act all macho around you all the time. That’s a relief."
"Oh, okay… I understand. Yeah, Peter felt that way, too, and a lot of my friends who are guys have sort of said that, but not in so many words. You’re the first to come right out and say it. Thanks. I really do appreciate it. You can relax around me, and I can relax around you—that’s important, amidst all this wildness, Tom. Thanks, honey…"
He kisses me gently and I walk through the small groups, past the Draka dancers, swords flashing crimson and gold in the fire- and torchlight, and on until I reach the stables.
**
"Ah, Erin!" I say. She pauses a little; Mahwel is combing straw out of the Jenny’s hair. The young human girl is blushing and giggling again, well over her nervousness. "You two run along. Why don’t you introduce Mahwel to some of your friends, Jenny?"
"Sure!" she says, and takes his hand. "C’mon, studly thing!"
"Enjoy yourself?" Erin grins when they’ve gone.
"Quite a bit," I say, embracing her. It’s a little awkward now, and I stroke her belly. "Mahwel’s wonderful, and the little wench was charming – actually a virgin, or was until twenty minutes ago." Not that that means exactly what it did; a simple painless operation shortly after puberty is now standard practice here. "A hot mount once I got her going, though; she had a thoroughly good time too."
I study the way Erin’s moving. "Sore back?" I say.
She nods. "Well, let’s take care of that," I go on, feeling a rush of tenderness. "Lie down here."
She sinks facedown on the blanket with a rustling of straw, and I begin to knead the muscles in her lower back. They are tense; the whole balance of her body is being thrown off a bit. Erin groans as I ease them, then sighs and relaxes as I run my palms from the base of her spine up to her neck.
"Thanks for the party, sweetlin’," I say, kissing the nape of her neck. "I enjoyed myself. The singers and those… Rockettes? They were wonderful."
She sighs and turns to me, picking up a scroll and small parcel she’d brought with her.
**
I sigh and roll over, handing her the scroll and the package with a small smile. "Happy Birthday, Gwen."
"Ah… I wondered what those were." She sits astride me, carefully not pressing against my tummy. Her weight is solid, and I’m pressed solidly into the hay. It smells good, fresh, with a little hint of hot summer days. Gwen opens the scroll first, and reads it by the light of the glowglobes strung outside. It’s too dim for me to read, but her eyes are better than mine, I think.
**
This Is Love
Mary Chapin Carpenter
If you ever need to hear a voice in the middle of the night
When it seems so black outside that you can’t remember light
Ever shone on you or the ones you love in this or another lifetime
And the voice you need to hear is the true and the trusted kind
With a soft, familiar rhythm in these swirling, unsure times
When the waves are lapping in and you’re not sure you can swim
Well, here’s a lifeline
If you ever need to feel a hand take up your own
When you least expect but want it more than you’ve ever known
Baby, here’s that hand and baby, here’s my voice that’s calling,
This is love, all it ever was and will be
This is love
And if you ever need some proof that time can heal your wounds
Just step inside my heart and walk around these rooms
Where the shadows used to be,
You can feel as well as see how peace can hover
Now time’s been here to fix what’s broken with its power
The love that smashed us both to bits spent its last few hours
Calling out your name, I thought: this is the kind of pain
From which we don’t recover
But I’m standing here now with my heart held out to you
You would’ve thought a miracle was all that got us through
Well baby, all I know, all I know is I’m still standing
And this is love, all it ever was and will be
This is love
And I see you still and there’s this catch in my throat and
I just swallow hard till it leaves me
There’s nothing in this world that can change what we know
Still I know I am here if you ever need me
And this is love
And if you ever think of me let it be round twilight
When the world has settled down and the last round of sunlight
Is waning in the sky, as you sit and watch the night descending
A car will pass out front with lovers at the wheel
A dog will bark out back and children’s voices peal
Over and under the air, you’ve been there lost in the remembering
And if you ever wish for things that are only in the past
Just remember that the wrong things aren’t supposed to last
Babe, it’s over and done and the rest is gonna come when you let it
And this is love, all it ever was and will be
This is love, when you let it, if you let it now
This is love, all it ever was and will be
This is love…
**
"Erin… this is lovely. You did it? The calligraphy?"
"Yes, Muhmis. On the computer… I designed the font myself, over the last couple of months. I hoped you’d like it, and the message of the song, too."
"I certainly do, my sweetlin’," Gwen says, leaning down and kissing me firmly on the mouth, her tongue tracing my lips and then thrusting in deeply. I shudder with pleasure, my sore back forgotten in the magic of the moment. I respond with a kiss of my own, and Gwen chuckles. "Ready to play, little pony?"
I remember the other packet. "If you’ll open the other present, maybe we won’t squish it or lose it in the hay…"
Still chuckling, Gwen rolls off me and opens the second present, placing the scroll and the ribbon of the first on my chest. She unwraps the packet carefully, and holds up the slim leather volume, looking it over. She makes a small noise—a gasp, I realize with great surprise—and begins paging through, slowly. When she’s done, she lies still for a minute, and then turns to me, eyes glittering in the darkness.
"How long did this take you? This is hand-done…"
I grin in the twilight. "Only about a year. Nothing much for someone who’s 485. You like it?" It had taken me almost exactly a year to hand-calligraph one of her mother’s volumes of poetry into the slim volume that’s in her hands; I remember the evenings after everyone had gone to bed, and the times in the mornings, too. The volume I chose was one of Yolande’s last collections, written just before her death. Lives Like Stars; the title gleams dully in gold on the hand-tooled leather cover. Bret’d taught me how to do that over the last year, too, I think.
Her kiss answers that question, and her hands stroke across my chest, cupping, pinching ever so lightly. I groan, deeply, as she slides a leg between mine. Carefully, slowly, teasingly, Muhmis undresses me, tossing the clothes behind her as she takes each piece off. Soon I lay naked before her, conscious of my swollen tummy and the prickles of soft hay beneath me. Conscious, too, of an overwhelming arousal, deeper than usual at this point in the ancient dance. Gwen’s lips caress mine as she moves her hands across my body, and I gasp in pleasure.
"And this is my third birthday present from you, hmmm?" Muhmis whispers, her fingers slipping between my legs, which spread apart of their own accord; my body arches to her touch.
"Uhhhnnnn… yes, Muhmis, yes…"
**
The music brings me back to my senses somewhat; Gwen’s fingers trace the line of my lips as she sighs deeply and moves to sit next to me in the hay.
"Such a pretty pony you are, my Erin…" She strokes some hay out of my hair, grinning down at me.
"Hmmm…" I arch my back again, slowly, enjoying the overwhelming feeling of relaxation that’s flooded through me. "Happy Birthday…"
"I think I’ll have a party like this one every year …" she kisses my tummy loudly, and I giggle.
I sit up and hug her. She returns it, with interest. We sit like that for a few minutes, her body so warm and muscles hard against mine, until Gwen raises her head to listen to the sounds outside.
"What in the world is that noise?"
I grin. "Chumbawumba."
"What in all the seven hells is that? Sounds like an illness…" Gwen laughs.
"It’s the name of a band… they’re sort of old hat now, but they were pretty hip when I was in my early thirties. I got Jennifer to book them so we oldsters would have something to dance to, Muhmis…"
"Let’s get dressed, then, and I’ll try to dance to this… what was it?"
"Chumbawumba. They’re playing songs from their ‘Tubthumper’ album…" I listen for a moment. "This is ‘Mary, Mary’. Got a good beat, don’t you think?"
"Hmph." Gwen turns up her nose, watching me out of the corners of her eyes, and breaks into a wide grin when my face falls. "Oh, they’re not so bad… come on, let’s dance…"
We dress quickly, brushing hay from each other’s bodies and clothes, and Gwen, holding her presents in one hand, and my hand in the other, walks us towards the music and the lights. Before we reach them, she pauses, and I wait by her side.
"Erin?"
"Yes, Muhmis?"
"Thank you… this, these… mean so much. Thank you, darlin’… you made this a very special night, indeed." She says it softly, but I hear her. She leans into me and our lips meet for a long moment.
Alice spots us and calls out a greeting: "Hey, come on, Muhmis, Erin… let’s dance while they’re playing music we can move to!" Her merry face is flushed and Jennifer grins from behind her, an arm around Alice’s waist.
Gwen kisses me again, hard, and then leads me into the dancing crowd, next to my wife and my best friend, and the night whirls on in a circle of music and light…
**