Long Night; Part 8

YAY!  

Since I was in too much of a cleaning-whirlwind yestreday to post, I've decided to make it up to you by double-dipping today!

Here's the next installment in the LONG NIGHT business.

I've been wanting to post this one for, um, months.  Not that it;s great, just... I like it and have liked it since the day I wrote it.  It was one of the first LONG NIGHT vignettes that I wrote.

Did you catch that the last one didn't end with  'long night' line?  Whoops.  A few of them don't, but I liked the common thread and tried to keep it going through most of them.

This is CALEB, who we don't see too often, but I heart him.  Of course, I also know secrets about him, shhhhh!

But he's a sweetie!

So enjoy part 8!!

***********************

Caleb hadn’t told Jonah and Velvet about Gideon yet.  The invite to this family dinner had come addressed to both of them.  As had the marriage announcement. 

When Velvet had called to gossip with Caleb about Grey’s sudden marriage he hadn’t the heart to tell her about Gideon.  Why ruin her soaring high spirits with his own tale of woe?

He’d cried his eyes out to his best friend, then he’d finally sat down with Nolan and cried on his shoulder too.  Now it was just fact.  He was single.  Again.  For the first time in years.  Alone.

And he was going to show up at Jonah and Velvet’s sans partner, and he wasn’t going to lie about it anymore.  Nolan had made him promise as much.

“But, Nole, I don’t want to be a drama queen at this party for Grey and the new bride!”  He’d argued reasonably.

Nolan had shaken his head firmly.  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.  You did the right thing.  You’ll be among family.  No more pretending.”

Ugh.  But he really didn’t want to have to explain to another person why he and the man he’d been about to propose to were finished.  And he knew his adorable sister-in-law would be tenacious.  Wouldn’t rest until she knew everything.

The worst part of it was the family had all been crazy about Gideon.  He’d fit right in.  Like it was meant to be.  Because Caleb had dated some real jerks, guys that made both his brothers’ respective hackles rise, guys that Velvet and Zahra had slammed and roundly dismissed as ‘not good enough’ for him.  Losers.  Always losers with killer bodies, but still, not marriage material.  Hell, not always even live-together material.

But with Gideon it had been different. 

Why the fuck had he cheated?  Caleb had racked his brain up and down, over and over, and tried to figure out what in hell he’d done wrong, what he lacked that had made the love of his life turn to another man.  A younger man.  Christ, that kid was closer to Grey’s age than to his own.

Whatever.

Caleb strode purposefully up to Jonah’s door and took a deep breath before ringing the bell.  He would live through this.  He’d survive it, and endure it, and he’d put on a smile and meet the newest addition to the Delaney clan. 

He forced himself to remain calm at the fact that his 24 year old nephew had just up and married someone, who, if gossip and rumor were to be believed, he hardly knew at all, when he, Caleb, couldn’t seem to pin down a marriageable man after more than a decade of serious effort.  Whatever.  Maybe he’d up and elope with the next guy he fucked.  Maybe that was the secret.

He was being hasty.  He’d see how Grey and this girl behaved together tonight and reserve his judgment till then.

“Uncle Caleb!”  His eldest niece opened the door with a false smile, which he hoped wasn’t because of him, and gave him a perfunctory hug and kiss on the cheeks.

“Hey gorgeous—you helping play hostess this evening?”  Avalon had moved to the campus but was still home often enough to still be considered ‘in residence’ at the Delaney mansion. 

“Guess so.”  She said as he moved into the foyer.  “Where’s Gideon?”

“He’s not coming.”  Caleb answered resolutely.  It was beginning.  “Where’s that dashing fiancé of yours?”  He dodged preemptively.

Caleb heard chatter and laughter from the direction of the living room and the kitchen both.  He’d spied Zahra’s van when he pulled up because he’d parked beside it, but hadn’t taken special note of any of the other cars.  He supposed he was running a tad behind.  It was taking him forever to get dressed and ready lately.  Everything he owned felt old and frumpy and unflattering.  And his hair was just plain rebellious since the break up.  He imagined it was sulking about Gideon’s absence. 

“He’s driving Aunt Grace over, so he should be here soon.”

“Oh good.”  Caleb loved Grace like an older sister.  “Holden?”

Avalon shook her head.  Holden Sinclair was a real sonofabitch.  Caleb doubted the man had ever gone more than a month without some form of infidelity to his gorgeous, brilliant, queen of a wife.  Everyone in Cedar Falls wondered why such an intelligent, self-assured woman stayed with a husband like that. 

Caleb was beginning to empathize with her.  There had been too many nights since he’d found Gideon in their bed with that young man, too many nights when he had considered accepting the convincing apology, considered calling him, considered relenting and finding a way to ‘work through it’.  He was beginning to understand how Grace could have stayed with Holden all these years.  Love does funny things to the best of us, he supposed.

And of course people close enough to the situation knew that while Grace Sinclair’s husband wasn’t exactly unwelcome at Jonah and Velvet Delaney’s, he wasn’t precisely welcomed with open arms either.  They were her friends first, his only by default.  Hell, Jonah had been somewhat leery when Avalon and Ben had started getting close. Even though they all knew and loved Ben like their own, Jonah was terribly worried that his father’s tendencies might have rubbed off of the boy.  It had taken him a while to finally relax and trust that the kid was perfectly decent and upright and definitely worthy of his daughter.

Caleb smiled thinking about it.  Everybody else had seen immediately that the old adage about girls and their fathers had come true with Avalon; she’d gone out and chosen herself a boy that was so much like Jonah it was almost hilarious.  He might look like Grace and Holden Sinclair, but Ben may as well have been raised by Jonah Delaney, so alike was he in demeanor and temperament.  He was kind and gentle and considerate and polite, he was helpful and affable and on the quiet side, he was smart and even-tempered and mature beyond his years. 

All growing up the boy had followed ‘Uncle’ Jonah around whenever the families got together for vacations or outings, while Grey was always sneaking off and causing mischief.  Ben had stuck with boyscouts years after Grey had quit, and Jonah had stayed on as a troop leader.  Ben volunteered at the hospital, just like Jonah had done at that age, he was an after-school tutor like Jonah had been, and he was, from all accounts, a bit of a romantic sap too.  His proposal to Avalon was something right out of a romance novel, or a girl’s diary it was so damned perfect.

And his rigid sense of decency, of gentlemanly conduct and honor, seemed to be taken right from the Jonah Delaney handbook.  There was no way that young man would ever fool around behind Ava’s back.   And Jonah was gaining one hell of a great son-in-law.

“You pick your colors yet?”  Caleb asked, slipping out of his winter coat and moving to the hall closet.  “At poker night Ben said something about lavender and lilac?”

Avalon made a ferocious growl and Caleb jumped a bit at the vehemence of it.  “Hey, straight boys don’t know colors, I assumed he was talking out of his ass.”  He soothed.

“Lavender and lilac are Mum’s fantasy.  Because of my eyes. If I hear her utter those colors again I’m going to lose it.” 

Caleb chuckled at her truculent tone of voice.  “Next time she tries to force purple on you—“  He lowered his voice conspiratorially as he hung his coat, “You just ask her how she felt about her mother always forcing her to wear velvet all the time.”

His niece’s eyes got wide.  “Whaaaat?”

Caleb laughed.  “Oh god yes.  That crazy old bat insisted that girl wear velvet at every event and special occasion—haven’t you noticed that your mother doesn’t own a single piece of velvet clothing?  Or drapes?  Or anything?”

Avalon’s face broke out into a wide grin.  “You’re kidding.”

“Swear to God.  She told me all about it one time when my dad was trying to get me to try out for football.”

“Leave it to Mum to talk about clothes when you’re having an identity crisis.”  Avalon commented wryly.

“Honey, there is almost never an inappropriate time to make fashion analogies with me.”

She laughed appreciatively.  “The old bat is here, by the way, so watch your tongue.” Avalon cautioned and began to move toward the living room.  “And she’s in rare form tonight too.”

Aw shit.  Velvet’s mother was a frigid old c-bag, and she made her distaste for his open lifestyle known every single time he was in her presence.  Caleb tried not to take her animosity personally.  Rumor was her husband had died in the arms of a whore, but the seedier truth of it, he’d learned from this ancient fag who ran the hair salon downtown, was that he’d died in the arms of a male lover—and he’d been deep into some pretty kinky shit too, from what he’d heard.

Caleb was about to comment on the delightful news of her wretched grandmother’s presence, when his youngest niece hopped into the foyer, looking mischievous and adorable.  “Uncle Caleb!”  She shrieked on sight, and ran full force into him with her arms spread wide. 

Caleb laughed with delight and lifted her high above his head.  She was light as a feather.  She’d be a peanut like Viola, he predicted.  “Princess Lola the all-magical!”  He declared with grandeur, spinning her as he lowered her back to her feet.

She bounced with delight, her exotic little face stretched in an over-wide grin, her eyes scrunched and giddy.  Nolan’s kids were absolutely gorgeous.  With that buttery-chocolaty skin, the rich, jet-black hair and the striking Indian aesthetic?  His girls were going to be knock-outs like their mother, only more mainstream friendly because of their white father, and Ajay was going to absolutely break hearts.  He’d probably be as handsome as his father, only he’d be more mysterious and alluring because he was bi-racial.  The younger two had Zahra’s hypnotizing midnight-black eyes, but Keer had somehow managed to get her dad’s blue-gray stormclouds, which stood out in her face in such a captivating way the girl almost took your breath away.

“Guess what?  I’m getting a baby unicorn for my birthday!”  Lola asked and answered before he’d so much as drawn a breath to respond.

“Oh my goodness, for real?”

The little munchkin nodded regally.  “Because I’m a princess and princesses need unicorns.”  She explained reasonably.

Caleb caught Avalon’s eyes and they shared a smile.  Lola was the cutest little thing alive.  “Well, yeah, obviously.  I figured it was only a matter of time.”  He responded seriously.

“Show Uncle Caleb your shoes.”  Prompted Avalon with an indulgent smile.

Lola was wearing a long peasant-style skirt in Bollywood colors, probably because it made her feel like a princess to have long skirts on.  He doubted very much that Zahra had had any say in the choosing of this crazy outfit.  The girl’s top was some kid-show graphic tee with sparkly stylized cartoon horses on it, with a long sleeved shirt underneath that had stars and hearts and rainbows all over it.  In her thick raven hair she wore a headband with rhinestones, which, he imagined, was close enough to a tiara to pass.  The peasant skirt looked like a pride parade had gotten hold of a band of gypsies—it was richly colored in Bollywood yellows and magentas and fuchsias and lime greens and turquoise and was threaded through with silver and even had little bells and reflective thingies sewn onto it.  Who the hell had bought her this skirt?  ‘Loud’ was putting it mildly.

She did her best elegant twirl as she spun, and Caleb saw Jonah arrive in the archway just in time to witness her display.  His older brother paused, an amused little smile on his lips, politely waiting for Lola to do her thing before he’d come greet his little brother.

Lola lifted her skirt to her knees and held one foot out to Caleb, saying ‘ta-da!’ as she revealed a pair of glittering ruby-red slippers.

Caleb made an exaggerated gasp and put his hand to his heart.  “Those are spectacular!” he enthused.  “Every princess needs a pair of those.” 

“Wonderful.”  Said a dry, sarcastic voice from the other side of the Foyer.  “Rainbows and ruby slippers.  I guess she’s well on her way to joining your community.”

Caleb clenched his teeth and stretched his lips into the best smile he could manage.  In the center of the foyer little Lola put her foot back down, and though she didn’t understand the comment she reacted to the obviously disparaging tone of it by frowning and furrowing her precious little brow.

“Oh hello again Celia, It’s been far too long.”  Caleb said pleasantly, turning toward his brother’s frosty mother in law.

She laughed shortly.  “I heard from Adele Ward that your roommate left you for a younger model.  I guess men are all the same, no matter which side their bread is buttered on.”

Caleb’s false smile became one of open-mouthed astonishment.  Wow.  There was so much offensive about that greeting that he couldn’t even begin to process it just then. 

There was a moment of awkward silence in the foyer.  Even Lola was quiet for once in her little life.  Then several voices overlapped one another.  Jonah began to say something curt to his mother in law while Lola wondered aloud about why it mattered which side of the bread butter had to go on, and Avalon moved quickly and with an easy grace that comes from years of practice, to steer her grandmother back toward the kitchen.

“Lola, sweetie, can you run and tell mummy Uncle Caleb needs to know where she bought you that skirt?”

Lola nodded, though she still looked puzzled and maybe a little unhappy—who could blame her when there was a scary old crone in the house?

Lola wandered off with a lot less bounce in her step and Caleb turned to Jonah.

“Yeah.”  He said to the question in his brother’s face.  He put his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting.

“No.”

Caleb nodded.  “Yup.  Few weeks ago.  Just before New Year’s.  Walked in on him in bed with someone else.”

Jonah took a sharp breath in and looked miserable.  “I’m so sorry.”  He said quietly, folding one arm across his chest and reaching up with the other to adjust his glasses.  “God.”

Caleb swallowed and looked at the beautiful stone floor between them.  “Kicked him out of the townhouse.”

“Good for you.”

“Yeah.”

“God.”

“Mm.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before now?”

Caleb shrugged.  How do you explain to your big brother that everytime a relationship doesn’t work out it feels like a failure next to Jonah’s incredible marriage to Velvet, or Nolan and Zahra’s?  How do you call your family and explain that the life you thought you were living, the life you believed you were building, was nothing more than a lie?  A mistake?  A waste of years of your life.

“I’m glad you ended it—if he was doing that, then you know he doesn’t deserve you—“  Jonah seemed to choke up.

Caleb nodded and pulled his mouth to the side.  He loved his brothers more than anything in the world.  “Still hurts like a bitch.”

Jonah grunted and finally moved forward to embrace him.  They clasped in a firm hug, Jonah patted him solidly on the back, and then kissed his cheek almost forcefully.  “You’ll find the right one.  I promise.”

Caleb had told Jonah that he wanted to settle down with Gideon, get married, start a family.  He felt like he’d lost more than a lover.  He felt like he’d been robbed of an entire future.  And he could tell Jonah guessed as much.

“Sorry about Celia.”  Jonah added sourly as they pulled apart.

“Yeah.  Wonderful.”  Caleb responded sardonically.  “This is going to a long goddamn night, huh?”

Fish and Visitors?

Okay!

Spent yesterday morning miserable with a sinus cold and cleaning the house in anticipation of our houseguest. I liked Danielle's suggestion that maybe said houseguest's boyfriend should be the one to scour the house from top to bottom, but alas, boys are gross and would be content with a brief tidying rather than get on their hands and knees and really clean the place.

So that's how I spent my morning.

And whilst I was on hands and knees and employing mine elbow grease, all I kept thinking was: the more times you break up with this girl the less I want to put myself out for her arrival!

However, once everything was sparkling clean, smelling good and looking like a kitchy model home, I sure felt better about life. Funny how that happens, eh?

And then work. Where I get paid a silly amount of money to help kids with homework and then color with markers.

And then... time to come home and meet the girlfriend! Oh man, was I ever nervous!

But guess what? I super like her alot!! She is clean (sorry to lead with that descriptor, but Eric's last girlfriend was a nasty, yucky, gross, ugly, icky blob of a creature-- so clean matters!), friendly, smart, articulate, comfortable to be around, sweet, kinda funny (not as funny as the rest of us, but funny for a normal person, lol.), respectful, tidy (she did all the dishes they'd used for lunch-- I had no ide they'd cooked in my kitchen whilst I was gone!!!!), and she gave me a REAL hug, not a wimpy bitch hug. It was a hearty, firm, enthusiastic hug!!

We ordered pizza (I felt too much pressure about what I should make because she is italian and apparently a good cook, so there was all this, like, angst on my part about whipping up some stellar vegetarian meal!), and we made cookies! We all chatted and then watched a tv show and then it was off to bed since Eric has to work at six and I'm the driver :)

Today is important because I have a job interview at BHS for an assistant teaching position. Wish me all the luck in the world because I really don't know how we can live much longer unless I have a real income. I have never really done a job interview. Funny, I left the theatre because I didn't like auditioning, but now that I'm facing the prospect of walking into an interview I'm almost wishing that I could have prepared 16 bars and 2 contrasting monologues and call it a day! I'm a little out of my depth here.

So fingers crossed, because apparently everywhere else where they SAY they have a job posting, they're just kidding and "that position has already been filled." Oh. Okay. Thank you, have a nice day...

Terrible, Horrible No-Good, Very Bad Mood :{

Birthdays?

Pretty nice.

i like them low-key, despite my penchant for sweeping drama and extravagant gestures. In the history of my birthdays, yesterday's was pretty sweet. I got the chance to hang with friends, visit a farm, choose pumpkins, drink Mary Lou's and ponder life.

Had a rum drink.

Had great conversation.

Held the cutest bean.

Searched the soul.


Still no answers. A day on a calendar doesn't bring epiphany. The passage of a year doesn't automatically summarize itself and draw conclusions.

It's as if I need the cliff's notes of my life here. Or a more user-friendly translation of the text with annotated footnotes.

I think i'd like to lay out some goals for the coming year and see about really sticking to them. How's that sound? Ok, sounds like trite hogwash and new-age hokum, but i'mma prolly do it anyway.


I'll think on it and post soon.

On today's agenda? After waking up in a BEAR of a nasty mood (wrong side of the bed? Wrong side of the fucking universe!), I now need to skip a day of subbing in order to clean this house from tip top to bottom in order to prepare for a houseguest's arrival tomorrow.

this houseguest is allergic to cats.

yup.

So when I'm talking cleaning, i'm talking cleaning!! All by my lonesome. Which might be for the best, since Aaron and i tend to get into cataclysmic, soul-rending, relationship shattering arguments when we have to clean in tandem (most times). But there's a ton to do, not a ton of time in which to tackle it, and not alot of enthusiasm bubbling up inside me to get me through it.

I have to work aftercare this afternoon, so there's only a limited amount of time to do all this, which means no pleasure reading (D just let me borrow the next few Sookie books!!), no pleasure editing (i bet Andrea is thinking- 'pleasure editing?!?!?!?', but yeah, I like re-reading my yet-to-be-published shit and tweaking!), and no pleasure writing. Grrr.

And to think. Danielle almost had me convinced yesterday that being tired and grumpy wasn't so bad, and that I'd be able to manage a baby... She's a convincing debater, but good fucking god, I am such a raging cunt this morning! My cat came up to give me love and I practically screamed at him to get the fuck off me. Nic, beth, good work. Now imagine a toddler, who might actually need something from you other than cuddles and a lap to purr on.

yikes-a-roni.


Who knows what the future holds? But promise me, if I do have children, that you will all be extra kind to him\her\them? Just know that while in front of company I may be sweet-as-pie, but at home i am likely an open-face bitch sandwich on rye.

Now i kinda want a sandwich.

Pray to the domestic gods for me today, will ya?

hearts.

What's that surly boy in the book say? i wish i could just move to Australia!

Long Night; Part 7

Hey folks.  

Back from my visit to beautiful North Carolina.

happy to have two more days of vaca before slogging back to work.

Will likely have some follow up thoughts on the visit, but would rather post some writing at last.

I missed my laptop and my stories SO FUCKING MUCH while I was away.  They were on my mind so much of the time.  Ideas, scenes, characters, plot devices, tangents, origin stories, histories, motivations, psychology, secrets-- you name it! 

I misssed them.

I even wrote a little on the plane, longhand, in anticipation of getting back here and caressing these grubby keys with my fingers once again.

OMG!  This morning Aaron and I went to pick up coffee and breakfast sandwiches for the fam and stopped in at an adorable little wine shoppe at my eager insistance.  And guess the fuck what?  The shop owner (I'm pretty certain he was the owner), was handsome and charming and kind and friendly, and the shop was adorable a sweet and, since I'm insane, all I could think about was a fictional character from MY own fiction.  How ridiculous is that?

But I honestly couldn't stop grinning while we were in there, and I was inordinately friendly with the man, all because I was attributing characteristics to him that he likely does not possess!  I was totes projecting the whole time!  And I had extraneous conversation with him because I was kinda crushing on him because I was pretending he was Nolan Delaney.  How bananas is that shit?

He told me all about the upcoming wine tasting that afternoon, with a representative from a Chilean winery coming to speak about the chilen wine selections and all that.  impressive!  And when we were wrapping up the discussion--get this-- he WINKED at me and smiled and bid us have a nice day.  HE ACTUALLY WINKED!!  and not in a creepy way, I mean Aaron was right there beside me, it was just a wholesome, charming, charismatic wink.

Plus he was honestly good looking-- tall, lean, brown hair, clean cut, kinda sexy, dark blue-greyish eyes... weird wacky stuff folks.  I was a giddy mess about it!!!

ANYWAY, back to the falls...

The scene below is the next installment in the LONG NIGHT dinner scene, which I LIKE but don't LOVE, but want to be fair and finish it.

I want to share SOOOOOO MUCH!!! with you all.  I've been a writing fool lately (before NC anyway!) and can't wait to share some of the developments.  But.  All in good time I guess.  We're going in order, so read long night 1-6 if you haven't already.  (last one was lenghthy, huh?  sorry.  Just had alot to say i guess!)

For now, let's delve back into the little WASPy evening that could, shall we?

Enjoy!

**********************

Viola still couldn’t believe her brother was married.  So fucking bizarre.  It would be like finding out the Pope had converted to Buddhism or something.  Just so out of the realm of what she thought was probable.

But she well knew that when it came to sex and romance, anything could happen, no matter how unlikely.

And Grey’d been avoiding her calls and texts all week too, so she still had no idea why he’d done it, what the story was, or anything.  She decided she’d better try and get some of the answers she was seeking from his pretty little bride.

“Shouldn’t we—“   Grey’s bride was only very reluctantly allowing Viola to pull her up the stairs.  She was looking behind them at the living room arch way, and she seemed very conflicted.  “Should we, go? Help?”

“Nah.  My Dad will handle it.  He always does.”  Viola said.  Damn, she liked it when he took charge like that.  Half of her actually wanted to drop Maggie’s elbow and bounce down there to catch the fireworks.  But she knew Grey would be glad she’d had the presence of mind to escort his wife away from the conflict, so she pushed the tantalizing thought of her father being super authoritative out of her mind for the moment.  “C’mon, Grey’ll come up here and get us when my Gran’s been put in her place.” 

Viola watched Maggie furrow her brow and wondered what the girl was thinking of her family so far.

They reached the top landing and Viola finally let go of Maggie’s elbow, feeling pretty certain the girl wouldn’t bolt back down.  “So how d’you like the cottage?”  She asked pleasantly, crossing down the hall a bit and opening the door to Grey’s old bedroom.  She flicked on the light and stepped inside.

Maggie hesitated on the threshold and stared.  Viola watched with interest as the girl stood there, looking for all the world as though she wanted to soak it all in, but looking also like she wasn’t sure she was allowed inside.

“C’mon in.”  Viola prompted.  “It’s ok.  He hasn’t lived here really since he started college.”

Maggie swallowed and stepped over the threshold carefully, reminding Viola of Dorothy and her tentative first steps into the Technicolor Oz.  The room was pretty much as Grey had left it years ago.  They already had a spare bedroom since the twins preferred to share, so Velvet had been able to leave this little shrine just the way it was.

Viola waited patiently while Maggie wandered the room slowly, soaking in every poster and trophy and novelty item and souvenir.  Grey had always been a pretty stream-line kinda guy, plus, he’d lived away at the boarding school most of the time, so there wasn’t a ton to see, but Viola supposed if it was all new it must seem like a lot to take in.  She crossed to the bed, plopped onto her stomach, crossed her feet at the ankles and propped her chin in her hands.

Maggie Delaney, nee Ramirez, was a cute little piece of ass.  Viola could see how Grey’d be smitten; in so far as Grey ever got smitten.  She had great proportions, sort of in miniature, which Viola understood a lot of men found very, very hot.  She smiled to herself, thinking about how petite her own body felt in a certain someone’s strong hands.

Anyway.  Maggie.  Viola liked the curls, liked the curves, liked the creamy caramel skintone.  The eyes were just plain arresting, and her lips said ‘fuck me please’ all over. 

But the kicker, thought Viola shrewdly, was that Maggie Ramirez Delaney had no idea how adorable she was.  Had no idea that she was grade-A spank-bank material.  And.  And Viola would bet good money that Maggie had been a virgin when Grey’d met her.

She certainly got why he’d dated the little Latina beauty.  Understood why he’d want to fuck her.  But what Viola couldn’t wrap her head around was why he’d gone and married her.  Married.  Yikes.  Because fucking a girl and making the big commitment were worlds apart.

And this girl, good as she may be for some fun, some fucking, a fling; this girl didn’t seem to have a lick in common with her brother.  Weren’t people supposed to be compatible in a marriage?  Because Viola certainly couldn’t see what this couple would have to talk about at the dinner table.

It all seemed very, very peculiar.

“He told me he was a swimmer—“  The young woman commented, a note of awe in her voice as she examined medal after medal and trophy after trophy.  “He didn’t say he was so competitive in it.”

Viola shrugged.  Who gave a shit?  “Yeah.  Dad thought he could maybe make a go at the national level, maybe even Olympic trials, but Grey wasn’t going for it.”

Maggie turned, wide-eyed.  “Why not?”

Viola smiled and lifted her shoulders a fraction.  “Dunno.  Too much work maybe.  Take the fun out of it?  He’s never wanted to be known as like, a professional athlete.”

Maggie looked intrigued as she mulled that one over.  “He’s got some other sports awards here too.”  She said after a moment.

“Yeah.”  Viola agreed, already bored of this topic.  “He’s played almost all of them, and as you can see he’s pretty awesome.”  She splayed her crimson fingernails out in front of her and checked them idly for imperfections.  She’d gone with her mom for a mani/pedi today.  And a wax.  She smiled at her fingernails as she remembered the look on the little Korean woman’s face when she’d asked for a Brazilian.  Maybe there weren’t too many fifteen year olds in there asking for Brazilians. 

All afternoon she’d been unable to stop her mind from wandering to her denuded sex.  It felt naughty and fresh.  It felt provocative and powerful.  She wanted to show it off.  She wondered if she’d get the chance.  No, more precisely, she wondered how she’d arrange the opportunity to show it off.

She smiled and returned her wandering focus to her brother’s esposita.

“He’s got a bunch of more academic awards, like, scholastic stuff, but Dad’s got that sort of thing displayed downstairs.”

Maggie smiled wistfully at that, but didn’t comment.  Viola could tell the girl really liked Jonah.  They had a lot in common.  Viola narrowed her eyes a little.  She’d be keeping her eyes on that budding friendship alright.

“Is there any sport he doesn’t play?”  Maggie asked, finally coming to sit by Viola on the full sized bed.  She sat down carefully, as if it were the altar at some shrine, but she tried her best to appear casual about it.  Viola had to turn her head to hide her amusement with the girl.

“Sure.  Golf.”  She said wryly.

Maggie was quiet.  “Just golf?”  She asked hesitantly.  “Why Golf?”

Viola’s lips pulled to the side and she peered at Maggie skeptically.  This woman, this bride of her brother’s, didn’t know why Grey refused to play golf?  Refused to even so much as pick up a club, despite the fact that every other guy in his social set was raised on the sport?  Despite the fact that being a wealthy, prep school educated, Cedar Falls socialite pretty much required you to be a member of the country club and an enthusiast for the links?

“You two know eachother long before you got hitched?”  Viola asked curiously, deciding she’d go ahead and let Grey field the golf questions himself.  Far be it for Viola to open that whole can of festering worms.  If Maggie didn’t know about Vaughan Grey by now, maybe there was some reason Grey had for keeping her in the dark.

Maggie blushed like a little kid who’d been caught peeking on another student’s test answers or something.  “I guess not too long.”  She admitted.  “It was a pretty whirlwind courtship.”

“Mmmhmm.”  Viola agreed half-heartedly. 

“You two seem close.”  Maggie commented, abruptly steering the conversation away from their marriage.  Interesting.

“I guess.”  Viola conceded marginally.

“But you’re the farthest apart in age.”  She continued, trying to draw Viola out gently.

“He’s always been a really good big brother to me.”  Viola stated levelly.  “We look out for eachother.”  She added meaningfully.  She wasn’t threatening Maggie, precisely, just, sort of, giving her fair warning.

Maggie nodded slowly.  “He’s lucky to have you on his side.”  She said quietly.

Viola raised a skeptical eyebrow.  This chick didn’t know anything about her.  Coming from anyone else that last comment would have come off as complete ass-kissing bullshit.  Weirdly, though, it had sounded pretty fucking genuine when Maggie said it.

She didn’t seem like the kind of girl that would be a gold digger.  Of course, Grey wasn’t the kind of guy to marry a golddigger, either.  What the fuck was this all about?

“So you wanna be an elementary school teacher?”  Viola asked her brightly. 

An elementary school teacher--Like Jonah.

Maggie smiled a genuine smile.  “Yeah.  I’ve wanted to ever since I can remember.”

Viola did her best to mirror the smile.  “I hear you’re great at the Wine Shoppe—no interest in doing that?”

Maggie crinkled her eyebrows.  “Doing, what?  Owning a shop?”

Viola laughed.  “Is that so crazy?”  Maggie wore an expression that clearly said that such a notion was out of her imaginings.  “But, something wine related, though; ‘sommelier’ or whatever.  Uncle Nolan went to school for it.”

Maggie looked impressed and then embarrassed.  “Wow. Oh, um, no, no.  I like it a lot but I don’t think I have any particular talent for it or anything like that.”

Viola nodded.  She wanted to come right out and ask the girl about the ridiculous marriage.  She wanted the dirt, but she didn’t know how to get at it.  And Viola Delaney fucking hated stupid ass small talk.  She always had to pretend she was playing the part of her mom in order to get through it.  Smile, be perky, be pert, be pretty, be precious.  Vomit in mouth, but smile and nod and ‘mmhmm’ a lot.

“Do you have any plans?  For the future?”  Maggie asked hesitantly.

Viola resisted the immediate impulse to roll her eyes.  She didn’t give a flying fuck about plans for the future.  She didn’t appreciate the ‘what do you wanna be when you grow up, little girl?’ question, however it was couched in professionalism.

“Nah.  Nothing’s really calling me yet.  Keeping an open mind.  So hey, does it ever get to you that Grey’s dated like a hundred girls?”

Maggie’s wide brown eyes got wider for a sec, then her face was still.  “I try not to think about it too much.”  She responded quietly.

Wow.  Did this girl have a dishonest bone in her adorable Latina body?  Now Viola kinda felt like a bitch.

“I mean, he married you, so no worries or anything, right?”  Viola grinned and laughed a little, to try to ease Maggie’s anxiety.  But the girl didn’t seem eased.  She seemed to get stiffer.  Eeek.  “He’s never lived with a girl.  How’s that going?”

Viola thought there might have been a spark of amusement flicker behind Maggie’s determined neutrality.  “I’ve never lived with anyone before either.  It’s quite an adjustment.”

Wild.  Catholics.  Making them get hitched before letting them see how living together went?  Viola thought that was pretty whacked.

“He, like, a total slob or something?  He snore?”

Maggie cleared her throat and picked a string off her dress—it was an awful dress, by the way.  It did nothing for her.  It looked like something you’d wear to a funeral or something.

“Well it’s only been a week.” Maggie said tentatively.  “I think so far we’ve both been on our best behavior as far as dirty dishes and laundry go.”

Viola sighed.  Bo-ring.  Maggie, Viola decided, was way too fucking sweet.  No way Grey chose such a goddamn angel.  Maggie was too sweet to be true.  There was something up.

“So what grade, do you think?”  Viola asked, switching topics abruptly.  This girl wasn’t going to bad-mouth Grey or give her dirt.  She just wasn’t the type.  So Viola needed to figure out a secret way into the real picture of Grey’s new life.

“Oh.”  Maggie took a minute to re-calibrate herself to the shift in discussion.  “The younger ones, I think.  Kindergarten, first, maybe second.”

Hm.  “My dad taught sixth.”

“Yes, he mentioned.  Did he have you?”  Maggie asked.

 Viola blinked.

“As a student, I mean?  Was he your teacher?” the girl clarified.

Viola felt a sly grin spreading over her lips at the innocently on-point phrasing.  She cleared her throat and kept her wicked grin in check.  “Nah, he was principal already by the time I got to sixth grade.”  She wanted to burst into giggles.  Now all she could think about was that night.  About her Dad.  In very un-dad-like ways.  “But you wanna teach the little ones?”  Viola didn’t want to talk about herself, she wanted to know more about miss perfect pie over here.

“I do.  Like Lola’s age.”  She said, her eyes getting far-away as she pondered it.

“So you like kids.”  Viola said, something starting to form into an idea.

“I do.”  Maggie responded warmly.

“You want any?”  Viola asked slyly, giving her new sister-in-law a sidelong glance. 

Aha!  The girl blushed and began twisting her religious medal and swallowing hard.  Holy shit!  He’d knocked her up?!?!?  Maybe.  Viola felt the rising excitement, but she quelled it ruthlessly.  She knew things about her brother that he’d probably rather she didn’t.  But people talked.  Her sisters most of all, and Avalon had had quite a few friends that had found themselves in distinctly awkward and inconvenient circumstances after Grey had decided to give them the time of day.

Long story short, getting a girl pregnant did not equal rings and vows for Grey Delaney.

But, then, why the furious blush and the stammering?

Maggie was saying things, but all Viola could hear was bullshit.  So the girl did have a dishonest bone in her body.  And it had to do with the ole fertility hot-button.  Curiouser and curiouser.

“Does Grey want babies?!”  Viola asked in her best impression of a perky, innocent little sister.   She made her expression all exclamation points and squee!

“Why, you giving some away?”  Grey’s sardonic voice rumbled from the door way.

Maggie practically leapt off the bed.

Viola slipped her eyes from the jumpy little Latina to her newly arrived  brother, whose casual confidence was little more than a brittle veneer.  He was radiating ‘pissed-the-fuck-off’, but not with her, likely with the sitch downstairs.  She flashed him a wicked grin.  “Hey big brother.”  She said.  “I rescued Maggie from the gorgon.  We’re having girl time.”

“Not anymore.”  Grey said.  “You’re a bad influence.”  He winked at her, but he was only half-kidding. 

He turned his pale green gaze onto Maggie.  Viola watched a silent communication going on between them.  Whoa.  Weird.  She felt like she was in the fucking twilight zone. 

Whatever he was looking for, he found confirmation of it in Maggie’s face and relaxed marginally.  She didn’t.  She got more jumpy.  “Is everything ok with, with your grandmother?”

“Looking for my stash?”  Grey asked Viola, ignoring Maggie’s tentative question.

Viola laughed.  “I found that shit like, a year ago.”

Grey raised a skeptical eyebrow and crossed purposefully to a small chest of drawers set atop the desk.  Instead of opening it, he pulled it away from the wall.  Maggie watched this with great curiosity, even craning her neck to see.  He popped off the false back carefully.

“You sneaky little shit.”  He said appreciatively.

“Losers weepers.”  Viola snarked.

“What did you keep in there?”  Maggie breathed, seemingly captivated by the secret hiding place.

Grey turned his head.  “Bible passages.”  He said, dead pan.  Maggie frowned and Viola thought she saw something spark within those wide chocolate depths.  Something feisty and fiery.  Grey turned back to Viola, barely concealing a smirk.  That was the Grey Viola knew and loved.  The one who couldn’t abide goody-two-shoes types, and lived to get a rise out of the wholesome ones among us.  “Is there anything left?”  He asked, sounding a little in awe and maybe a mite concerned.

“I didn’t use everything for Christ’s sake.”  Viola rolled her eyes.  “I sold a bunch.”

“Jesus, Viola, what the fuck?”

“You want a cut?”  She asked flippantly.

“No, moron, I don’t want my sister getting busted as a fucking dealer.”

Wordlessly Grey’s little bride moved to the door.  They both halted their back-and-forth to watch her.  Was this all too much for the little saint?  But Maggie didn’t leave; instead she closed the bedroom door quietly.

“Someone’s coming upstairs.”  She whispered.

Viola gaped a little and checked to see Grey’s reaction. He looked fairly mystified by this little turn of events too.  “Magalita.”  He said, a funny quality to his voice.  “Is tu familia used to hiding things from the narcs?”

She looked deeply wounded. 

“Oh, you’d rather I leave it open for your mother or father to hear this conversation?”  She snapped.

Viola couldn’t resist smiling.  This girl had more to her than kindness and humility.  She had a feisty side.

Grey grunted.

The three of them listened for a minute.

“Who the fuck is it?”  Viola whispered.

Grey moved as silent as a cat burglar over to the door and stood mere inches from Maggie. 

There was a knock, but not on his door.

Oh, fuck.  Viola hopped off the bed.  Was her dad looking for her?  Holy shit.  She needed to get out of here.  She hustled to the door but Grey held out a hand to stop her in her tracks.  Fuh-huh-huck.  He finally comes looking for her and she’s trapped in the twilight-zone with bizarro Lucy and Desi?!

“Vienna, honey?”  Viola’s nerves tingled like live wires at the sound of her dad’s voice.  She sizzled with jealousy at hearing him seeking out her older sister.  Obviously not for sex, but still.  These days any attention he lavished elsewhere pissed her right the fuck off.  “It’d Dad.”  He said unnecessarily.  “Mind if I come in?”  He said to the door.  The sound of indie college folk rock was all he got in the way of an answer.  “Vee, love, I need to have a few words.”  Viola thought he sounded tired and largely disinterested, but she guessed to most people his tone would pass as sympathetic and gentle.  Of course, she alone knew he had more pressing drama on his mind; she hardly thought he could really give two shits about Vienna’s nauseatingly trite break-up with some Bob Dylan wannabe.

They all heard the folk get louder as the twins’ bedroom door opened, a few mumbled words, and then the music got quieter again.  She’d let him in.

Viola watched her brother rake his eyes over his wife in a very carnal way.  Yikes.  The curly-haired chica met his eyes and blushed, biting her lower lip nervously.  These two were married?

Grey seemed to struggle to drag his eyes off her.  “So, what’s left?  Do you have something? Anything?”

Viola giggled.  “Now who’s the bad influence?”  She sassed.

“I’mma kill Gran if I don’t have something soon.”  He said matter-of-factly.

Viola rolled her eyes.  “I’ll see what I’ve got.”  She sighed lazily.  “Scotch won’t do the trick?”

Grey made a disgusted sound.  “I’m not allowed to touch it till after dinner.”  He said sourly.  “You know how Nolan gets, and Mum insists I won’t be able to taste the fucking food.”

“Plus there’s the side-effects.”  Viola said with a cocked eyebrow.

Grey looked momentarily baffled.  Viola pretended to yawn broadly and made a surreptitious hand gesture as she did so, her forefinger and middle finger forming a ‘V’, her tongue dancing between them for the briefest of moments.

Grey let out a bark of laughter.  Maggie looked lost.

“Hurry the fuck up.”  He said with a grin and held the door open for her.

“Be right back you two—don’t get carried away, unless you get off on being watched.”  The last thing Viola saw before sauntering from Grey’s old bedroom was her new sister in law’s jaw drop and her eyes get all round and shocked.

Way too fucking sweet for Grey.

Where was I?

Sorry about yesterday. Lamesauce, right?

Anyway, where was I?.....

Ok.  So here's the dill, in a proverbial nutshell:

The more time Aaron and I spend around children (all children, well behaved or not, cute as hell or not, related to us or not, babies, toddlers, kindergarteners-6th grade)  The more unsure I become that we should try to have some and the more certain Aaron becomes that we definitely should.

Wild right?  Because it seems especially after a child has been screaming and flipping out, like my 2 year old neice on the airplane to NC (jesusfuckingchrist shootmeinthefaceplease!), I turn to him, expect him to finally see the light and go: "Yeah, let's not and say we did" (oooh, how very Edward Albee of us).  But instead I say something to the effect of:  "Are you SURE you want to do this???"  And he looks at me, completely confident and goes:  "Oh, yes, absolutely."

Yikesaroni. 

For those of you who don't know, Aaron and I generally inhabit the same page on most every single thing.  So far the main things that we don't see eye to eye on are as follows:

My level of driving skills\ability. (This includes parking)
Whether or not Ketchup should be stored in the pantry or the refregerator.
Which of the Original Trilogy is the best Star Wars Film.
The idea that I'm a competant human being and an adequate teacher (He votes Yes to both, most days I'm a 'nay' vote!)
Whether or not I am beautiful. (See above parenthetical)
Our liklihood of traveling the world and visiting the exotic locales we dream of seeing ere long.
The possibility of going Vegan

So that's it.  And I had to scrape the barrell on those folks.  We don't disagree alot, at least not on important stuff.  There will be some movies and comedians that he likes that I don't and vice versa, but really?  Nothing big.

And could there be a bigger, more fundamental issue for a married couple than "kids?  Or no Kids?"  (That was meant to sound like Howie Mandel from Deal, or Nor Deal... so re-read it if necessary and insert proper tone and inflection for full comedic effect. thx!)

Also, I've wanted kids with this man since I was, um, thirteen.  Wanted a big ole ragamuffin family of eccentircs and oddballs, bohemians and banana sandwiches.  I've been waiting for our life to begin for so long it hurts to think about it.  Waiting to meet our little girl with Aaron's huge slate gray eyes, waiting to lay a kiss on a freckle-faced little boy's cheek and tell him it's ok to love who you love.  I've been waiting for halloween pumpkin carvings and report cards and gamenights and chocolate milk.  Waiting for english muffin pizza nights and children's museums and dance lessons and impossible questions.  I've been looking forward to hearing him sing nonsense lullabies at three am, to 'i spy' on long road trips, to sprinklers and bandaids, and bikes, and bedtime stories.

What I would rather avoid is all the reality. All the shitty, awful, life-sucking torments of being a parent.  The lack of sleep.  The lack of alone time.  The constant cleaning, the ceaseless needs that demand to be met.  The whining.  The tantrums.  The fights.  The temper.  The money we don't have.  The selflessness.  The rivalry for my husband's affection and attention.  The worry, all the time worrying and stressing and fretting and angsting.  The responsibility--and that's a huge one.

Am I doing this right?  Am I responding the right way?  Am I fucking them up for life?  Which book is right on this?  Should I listen to my mother? (Probably never, ladies, probably never on that one.)

Ugh.

The thing of it is, as much as I've always felt I was put on this world to be a Mom, evidence would lead me to contrary conclusions.  I'm not patient, I'm not especially nice or kind or warm.  I'm less than maternal and am more likely to tell a child "I don't care" than actually give a shit about their little dramas.  When they get tired I get bitchy.  When I get tired?  I'm a monster.  I hate cleaning up after people, I detest bodily functions (oh my GOD! new parents become suddenly very comfortable discussing scatalogical anecdotes and the like, and I still can't even say the word 'fart' out loud!  EEEK!), I am CLUMSY as all get-out, and I'm not super tolerant of people disagreeing with me; especially little assholes who don't know their asses from their elbows and would do well to listen to my advice\instructions.

And I honestly like my life with Aaron.  We've been in this together for 13 years.  That's a long time.  We like eachother, we work well together, we have alot of fun and don't necessarily feel that something is missing.  EXCEPT this kids issue keeps springing up, like a spectre, like a placemarker; COMING SOON...

But I'd kinda like to see what it feels like to make the decision, to say:  No, we don't want kids and we don't plan on having any.  I have this suspicion that it would free me up, take this pressing burden off my shoulders and allow me to breath, relax, and ease into the life of a woman with fewer worries, less panic about time and aging and life-deadlines.  And we could think seriously about travel.  And not stress so much about when we can get a house (I fucking love our apartment, truth be told).  And not care so much about where or if we move away from MA (If we plan on haviing kiddies, we are planting the roots in the best stae there ever was, but if there is no possibility of that, well, hell, we can go ANYWHERE!).

But here's the rub.  Or some of the rub.  Have you met Aaron?  Oh.  Well, he'd pretty much perfect, and moreover, he would be the most incredible dad.  He's a natural.  He's fabulous and wonderful and it seems like he was pretty much born to be a dad and oneday a pretty hilarious granddad.

He's patient (almost infinitely so, almost inhumanly so), he's warm, he's funny, he's intelligent, he's giving and selfless and ready for anything.  He's unendingly creative, inventive, resourceful, resilient and even-tempered.  He can solve any problem, fix any disaster, tackle and mountain, meet every challenge, and all of this he can do with a genui9ne smile and that good-humored laugh and somehow make you feel like it was never as black as it seemed afterall.

He's like the pied piper, too.  At work, he doesn't have to insinuate himself into a group of kids and try to engage them in some activity.  Instead, he just starts doing something and within minutes he has a flock of frickin kids clamboring to be involved, desperate to be part of whatever Mr. Waite is up to.

They love him.  And Like him.  and Look up to him.  As they should.  He's the best.

So imagine my guilt whenever I entertain the notion of not having any!  And this is different from finding out that we CAN'T have any for medical reasons, because he would be an Angel about that, I have no doubts whatsoever.  In that case we'd likely discuss adoption-- which is something we'd like to try to work out whether or not we're biologically able to produce our own.  (See, he's so goddamn good and wonderful!)

But imagine just saying: NAH, when you have a perfect father in the making, a big heart and a willingness to put up with the shit and the hassle and the thanklessness and the mood swings and the sleeplessness and the problems after problems after problems.

I feel like a total asshole.

And infinitely unworthy.

He doesn't make me feel like that, I should make that clear.  He is largely patient with my sudden retreat from parenthood.  And apparently unshakeably confident that in one form or another we will become parents and we'll be good at it.

His confidence has a calming effect on me.  But doesn't convince.

We fly home today.  With alot to think about.

I turn 27 on monday.  Fuck that proverbial clock, and fuck these heartstrings that pull at the sight of a little ginger kid, or at the sound of my neice's gleeful laughter or at the feeling of an infant sleeping in my arms.

And fuck being a libra, which seems to mean a constant state of indecision, back-and-forth, and weighing the hypothetical outcomes.

See you back in massachusetts.

confused.

In North Carolina and feeling all sorts of conflicting emotions.  I wasn't going to blog while down here (limited internet and computer access)  (oh, and privacy-- as I typed this I had to stop for 20 minutes because the room was invaded!)  but here I am click-clacking away.

I am confused.

Being around thes babies simulataneously makes me

gotta run. too crazy to do this right now.  mmaybe more later.

NC or bust...

Going away for a few days.  When I come back I will be turning 27 years old.

I thought I'd have a house and a pair of kids by now.

Funny how life turns out.

Funny isn't the right word.

I'll be out of touch till after North Carolina.

In Memoriam

Today we had the service for Aaron's Nana, his great-grandmother. She was a wonderful, sweet, infinitely kind lady whom I loved to pieces.

Aaron was tasked with writing a eulogy. It was beautiful, he delivered it beautifully, and there wasn't a dry eye in the house.

I thought today I'd share the beautiful writing my husband did for Nana.

************************

Never Again Would Bird's Song Be the Same

By Robert Frost

He would declare and could himself believe

That the birds there in all the garden round

From having heard the daylong voice of Eve

Had added to their own an oversound,

Her tone of meaning but without the words.

Admittedly an eloquence so soft

Could only have had an influence on birds

When call or laughter carried it aloft.

Be that as may be, she was in their song.

Moreover her voice upon their voices crossed

Had now persisted in the woods so long

That probably it never would be lost.

Never again would birds' song be the same.

And to do that to birds was why she came.

I never met Elinor Rabouin. I, like many in this room, knew a woman we called Nana. It's no surprise, since she was Nana longer than she wasn't.

My best memories of Nana are occulted by the fog of years gone by, scattered among the clutter of a disorganized mind, and vague due to the lack of import that a young mind affords fresh memory. There are however a few clear spots, many of which share a common theme, and together are some of my most favorite childhood memories.

In Nana's room she had, among other elegant asian-inspired furniture, a massive red cabinet, or armoire—whatever it was it had lots of doors and drawers—and behind two of the larger doors around about the middle of the thing she had games. All sorts of board games and the like, Scrabble and playing cards, Parcheesi—I think. She had a game called Rummikub which was played with little plastic tiles, and a Yahtzee-esque game called Zilch. We played them all and we played them often.

One of my favorites was Scrabble, and she never let me win—and so I rarely won anything—but her rejection of this often obligatory concession did nothing to diminish the fun I had. I still love scrabble, and nowadays, thanks largely to her, I almost never lose.

Another favorite was Poker—and she was a serious poker player! I remember her saying, if ever I got distracted by the flickering of the TV behind me, she'd say “Do you want to watch Star Trek, or do you want to play cards?” She was good too; we played with pennies as chips, and though all the pennies were hers to begin with, at the end you still felt like you'd been hustled by an old lady.

I guess the point is that Nana never treated me like a kid, in that patronizing way that adults are wont to do. She never tried to talk me out of a Scrabble game because she thought I'd be bored, or because she knew I'd lose. She encouraged and cultivated in me the idea that I could—and should—attempt things at which I might at first fail. She inspired a love for knowledge and an appreciation of patience and strategy, of wisdom and wit.

Today, nearly two decades later, it is no coincidence that I still value those things. I work with kids now, many of whom are jaded drop-out risks with turbulent home lives; and I carry Nana's values with me into work everyday, because I know that if I can do for a handful at-risk kids what she did for me, I will have succeeded.

Her legacy is like a song; it's notes and it's melody are composed of the values—the warmth and the wit, and the strength and wisdom, the generosity and humor, humility and confidence—and the guidance that she offered freely to all who listened.

Her song echoes in my heart and in my voice.
It echoes in the hearts and voices of everyone here.

Never again will our song be the same,
And to do that, was why she came.

Long Night; Part 6

Been awhile.

There's alot of threads that get pulled into this one.  It's a Maggie scene.

enjoy.

************************

The dining room was set for eighteen.  Maggie marveled at how the table had seemed to double in size.  Or maybe it was a separate table altogether?  Would the Delaneys keep an entirely spare dining room table somewhere for larger family functions such as this?  She tried to imagine what their attic must look like, the treasures a mansion’s attic must contain.

And she noted two booster seats at the table and smiled.  So the Delaneys meant to include the children at the table.  For some reason this made her warm all over, and very appreciative of Velvet and Jonah.  While she herself had often been sent to a ‘kid’s table’ growing up, that seemed to be more out of necessity for space than anything else.  Even the adults were usually split up over several large tables, so numerous was her extended family.  Somehow seeing the younger place settings—there was even a pink plastic cup set up at one of them, alongside everyone else’s champagne flutes and crystal wine glasses—made Maggie very grateful for the Delaneys’ bottomless generosity and hospitality. 

She was glad there was no one in the dining room at that moment to see her well-up. 

After roundly cursing her silly hormones and blinking away the sentimentality, Maggie took a deep breath and headed toward the sounds of chatting and laughing.

She was nearly bowled over in the foyer by Velvet, one of the twins, and a beautiful dark skinned girl Maggie guessed must be Lola’s older sister. They’d been headed to the kitchen.

“Oh!  Good!  Maggie!”  Mrs. Delaney exclaimed and grabbed her by the shoulders, deftly dodging the pâté platter and landing two kisses of welcome on her cheeks.

“Hi Maggie!”  The twin said.  Maggie wished she could tell them apart.  She smiled in greeting but didn’t have a chance to speak--

“Did you make something?”  Velvet asked, examining the platter.  “Oh, no, this is my pâté.”  She giggled.  “But what are you doing with it?”  She giggled again.  “Oh, you’re helping?  Aren’t you sweet, thank you honey, but you’re the guest of honor!”

Maggie had barely drawn a breath and Velvet had managed to have a whole conversation by herself.

“Mum, let the girl breathe!”  Teased the tall redheaded girl affectionately.  “Sheesh.”

Velvet giggled again and she was joined in her merriment by the lovely young girl with the startling blue-gray eyes.  Velvet noticed Maggie staring at the girl.  “I’m so sorry Maggie, I’m just so excited.”  She placed a hand on the girl’s back and gently prodded her forward a bit.  “This is Keer, Nolan’s eldest.  Keer, this is your cousin’s new wife, Maggie.”  Velvet’s smile could have lit a small city.

Keer Delaney extended her hand and Maggie balanced the large pâté platter on her left palm in order to facilitate a handshake.  “Nice to meet you Maggie.  You work at the shop, right?”  The girl’s handshake was confident and it reminded Maggie forcibly of Nolan.

Maggie smiled as she shook the girl’s hand.  “Nice to meet you too Keer.  Um, yes, I work for your dad.”

“Are you still gunna, now that you’re rich?”

The twin laughed uproariously and Velvet giggled after gasping.  Maggie blushed all the way down to her toes as she met the girl’s earnest, no-nonsense gaze and searched for some appropriate response.

“Hell, maybe she’ll buy me out and I can retire early.”  Nolan spoke from the archway of the living room.

Maggie smiled at him, but found she was having trouble meeting his eyes.

“Hi Mr. Delaney.”  Maggie said.

“It’s going to get pretty confusing around here if you insist on formality tonight Maggie.”  Nolan teased warmly.  “You can call me Nolan.”  He crossed to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek in greeting.

Maggie smiled, but she didn’t respond. 

“Genny, be a dear and go get the brie things and, Keer honey, would you mind grabbing the fruit tray?  Genny knows where it is.”  Maggie thought her mother-in-law had a much gentler way of getting people to help than her new grandmother-in-law. 

Genny muttered something about needing a treasure map to locate the things her mother hid around that kitchen and Keer laughed as they breezed toward the dining room.

“How is business anyway Nolan?”  Velvet asked pleasantly, absentmindedly re-arranging some of the little appetizers on Maggie’s tray.

“Decent.”  He replied.  “I have this wonderful new sales clerk who seems to make the stock fly off the shelves.”

Velvet looked overjoyed as her gaze lit on Maggie.  “Really?!”

Maggie shook her head.  “He’s only teasing.”

“Am I?”  Nolan’s smile was charming and friendly.  “That week you took off was my slowest week in months.”

Velvet clapped with glee.  “I’ll have to come in and visit you when you’re working!”  She gushed.  “Maybe I’ll buy enough to give you the capital required for that baby unicorn I’ve heard so much about, Nolan.”

Nolan groaned as Velvet and Maggie shared a laugh at the poor father’s plight.

“Dad!”  A little boy raced into the foyer and darted around Nolan in a quick circle before dashing to the hall closet. 

“What’s up?”  Nolan asked with a grin.

“Tell ‘em I went that way!”  The boy whispered excitedly, wrenching open the closet and pulling the door almost all of the way closed behind him.

Maggie couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. 

Just then Grey prowled into the foyer, Lola perched atop his shoulders.  Maggie’s jaw fell open.  She’d never seen him interact with children before tonight and until this moment she couldn’t have pictured such a scenario.  Grey Delaney and kids were not two images that went together, yet here he was.

“There she is!”  Lola announced in her piping, high-pitched little voice, and pointed a triumphant finger at Maggie.

“Good work.”  Said Grey, sounding a bit like a secret agent.  “One down, one to go.”

“Daddy did you see Ajay?  Look how tall I am!”

“I see you.  If he’s hiding in the chandelier you’ll have no trouble at all.”  Nolan commented.

Lola giggled and Grey swung her down from his shoulders with an easy grace that made something flutter beneath Maggie’s ribs.

“You go check the kitchen; I’ll scout around out here.  Divide and conquer.”

Lola nodded, looking conspiratorial.  She probably didn’t really understand either of the words in that phrase, but she seemed to grasp the spirit of it just fine.

“Oh good, I’m headed that way anyhow, let’s go together.”  Velvet said.

“Okay!”  Lola agreed “But hurry!”  And she zipped through the archway into the dining room.

Velvet laughed merrily as she followed, but not before giving her son’s cheek an affectionate caress.

Grey’s eyes followed his mother out of the foyer before they snapped to Maggie.  “What are you doing?”  He asked in a quiet but sharp voice.  His eyes went to the tray she was carrying.

Maggie’s eyes widened at his abrupt mood shift.  She was being interrogated, but she had no idea what for.

“N-nothing.”  She said uncertainly.

He opened his mouth to snap back but Nolan was quicker.  “She’s not harboring a fugitive, if that’s what you mean.”

Grey’s head snapped to where his Uncle had migrated, over near the coat closet.  He seemed torn between his desire to scold Maggie for something and putting on a pleasant face for company.  “Did either of you two citizens see a small, dangerous monster run through here?”  He said after several long moments had ticked by in uncomfortable silence.

A smile spread across Nolan’s face and he nodded.  “There’s a monster on the loose?”  He asked agreeably.

“I’m afraid so.”  Grey answered, casting one last glare at Maggie before stalking toward the closet.  She was bewildered.  What had she done to offend him?  Quickly she did a hasty mental run-through of everything she’d done and said since they’d arrived, but she couldn’t figure out how she could have done something to cause him offense in the ten, maybe fifteen minutes they’d been there.

“Well, please, I have a wife and children Sir, you have to catch that monster!”  Nolan played along somewhat casually.  It sounded to Maggie as if they played this game a lot and it had become old hat to them.

“Never fear,”  Grey responded mildly.  “I happen to have a monster tracking device right here in my watch, and it can sniff out monsters wherever they’re hiding.”

Nolan was laughing silently and pointing surreptitiously to the closet. 

Grey made a beeping sound like a radar picking up an anomaly.  “I think there’s one nearby.”  He said between beeps.  Maggie was enthralled.  Who was this person?

“Don’t worry madam, I’ll protect you.”  Nolan said, scooting away from the closet to give Grey more room for the ambush, and coming to rest by Maggie’s side.

She smiled at him, but could hardly take her eyes off this bizarre version of Grey.  The one playing monster hunter with his little cousin.

“Get ready.”  Nolan muttered under his breath, his eyes on the closet and a half-smile on his lips.

Maggie opened her mouth to ask what she should expect when Grey rattled the closet door handle and a valiant effort at ferocious growling and snarling emanated from within.  Her heart seized up at the grin that spread over her husband’s face.  He was so beautiful.

“This is it, Monster.”  He announced in a stern voice that belied the grin.  “The jig is up.  Come out with your hands in the air!”

More growling followed, but it was peppered with ecstatic giggles.

“He’ll never surrender!”  Nolan called pleasantly.

“Never is not an option.”  Grey responded in a sober voice, and then yanked the closet door open after an exaggerated count of three.

The little boy charged out of the closet in a fit of giggling and growling, his face scrunched from glee and from his play at being ferocious.  Grey caught him up in mid-leap and he seemed to fly for a moment before he was pinned against his older cousin and subjected to a merciless bout of tickling.

The little boy shrieked and hollered and laughed so hard he looked like he might just explode.  Maggie grew concerned that he might not be able to draw breath.

“Mercy!”  The boy cried frantically, high-pitched giggling making it very difficult for him to be understood.

“Mercy?!”  Grey challenged, sounding affronted.

“Pleeeee-hee-hee-hee-zzzzzzz!”  He was turning quite red and the smile on his face looked like it stretched tight from ear to ear.

The uproar was drawing a crowd.  An exuberant little Lola came bouncing back in, shouting triumphantly about the capture.  Keer wasn’t too far behind her younger sister, and she looked breathlessly delighted at the scene.  From the other side Grey’s Dad appeared in the archway with a beautiful, exotic woman in tow.  Maggie recognized her from the photo in Nolan’s office, but thought it hardly did her justice.  This woman was stunning.  It made Maggie inexplicably happy to see that she was curvy.  Full figured, but well proportioned.  She reminded Maggie powerfully of her own mother, though this woman was taller.  Maggie’s Mamma hadn’t been much more than 5’2” or so. 

“I dunno.”  Said Grey, struggling to keep a firm hold on the wriggling mass in his arms, tickling all the while.  He flipped the boy over so that he was dangling upside down.  “Should we have mercy on a monster?”  He called to the foyer at large.

Lola declared loudly that no, he should not receive mercy, but the rest of the foyer outvoted her.

“I guess even monsters have mothers.” Grey reasoned, throwing a grin over at the archway where his aunt stood waiting for the little boy’s inevitable release.

“Please good sir, release him to my custody--before he passes out.”  Maggie had expected an accent, but as exotic as the woman looked she seemed to have been born or at least raised here.  She didn’t have even a trace of an accent, but her voice was surprisingly low in timbre and sort of raspy—an exciting and intriguing sort of voice; deeply female and rooted in the earth, Maggie thought.

Grey flipped the boy once more, so that he was right side up, and placed him on the ground.  He spun the boy around three times before releasing him, muttering something that sounded like a magic spell, but Maggie couldn’t catch it.  Lola was hopping around with a spatula she must have pilfered from the kitchen, waving it like a magic wand and casting her own spells into the foyer.

And then Grey let go, and the little boy, his eyes not quite able to focus, started toward his mother with a grin and a very unsteady step.  The foyer chuckled at his weaving wandering, and the boy laughed too. 

“Get the monster!”  Lola cried, and charged at her brother at full speed. 

Maggie’s eyes widened in alarm, but the little girl’s parents worked as a perfect team; moving in swift unison Mrs. Delaney wrapped her arms around her stumbling little boy as Mr. Delaney grabbed up his youngest and tossed her into the air just a moment before what would have been quite a nasty, full speed collision.  Maggie felt like clapping.  Lola did clap when at last she was nestled onto her father’s hip.  “Again!”  She demanded, drawing appreciative chuckles from the crowd.  She was a bit of a ham!

“That’s the problem with those ones.”  A cold, snide voice declared in a mock-whisper, and Maggie turned to see Mrs. Calder on the stairs behind her, pretending to speak quietly to Avalon.  “All the noise!”

The mood in the foyer immediately shifted and Maggie felt the back of her neck tingle a little at the tension.  Mrs. Calder seemed not to register the shift at all.  She continued down the stairs with a smug, false little smile.  “Come along dear—“  She said to Avalon, “The appetizers are being served.”

Maggie’s eyes flicked to Avalon, who, to her credit, looked thoroughly embarrassed and apologetic.  She trailed after her grandmother and rolled her eyes, indicating that she believed the old woman just as insufferable as everyone else in the foyer did.

Maggie wasn’t sure what the older woman had meant, but it had felt decidedly uncharitable.  The old woman very clearly did not care for children.

As Mrs. Calder sailed by her she scooped up a little crostini of pâté from the tray without so much as acknowledging Maggie with a glance.  Then she went out of the foyer toward the dining room saying something about ‘the good families’ of Cedar Falls and ‘mixed marriages’ and Maggie’s jaw fell open.  It was getting to be the default mode for her jaw this evening.

“Hello again Maggie.”  Avalon said quietly as she passed, pausing for just a moment to place two stiff kisses on her cheeks. 

“Hello—“  Maggie replied vaguely, but Avalon had already disappeared through the archway to the dining room before Maggie managed to move her tongue and vocal chords to action.  Had she misheard the woman? Or maybe misunderstood?

“I’m so sorry.”  She thought she heard Jonah mutter to his brother and sister-in-law.

Nolan lifted his lips into a smile Maggie recognized from working with him as his ‘grin and bear it’ smile.  It was the one he wore when particularly pretentious or obnoxious customers would come in and drop label names to sound impressive, or put down his shop as ‘quaint’, or murmur comments about the selection being lacking.

He shrugged and his wife waved a hand, as if to say ‘don’t worry about it’.  She looked less bothered than did her husband.  Nolan crooked a finger in the direction of his eldest daughter, who had moved out of the archway when the old woman passed by, and she obediently moved to his side.  He ruffled her hair, which she tried to dodge, and then he looked up at Maggie.

“Maggie, I’d like you to meet my family.”  He said, his tight smile slowly melting into a more genuine one, the tension slowly ebbing out of his shoulders and the muscles around his eyes.  “Lola you’ve already met, and this is my daughter Keer,” Keer gave her a little wave—they’d just met a few minutes before—“This little monster is Ajay,”  Ajay looked suddenly sheepish and moved to hide behind his mother’s flowing skirt.  “And this is my wife Zahra.  Zee, this is Maggie.”

“So glad to finally meet you Maggie.”  Zahra Delaney said with a warm, dazzlingly white smile.  “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Maggie felt her cheeks flushing.  “Thank you.”  She said, feeling shy and sheepish as well and suddenly wishing she had a mother’s skirt to hide behind.  “The same goes for you—for all of you.”

Zahra looked pleased and laughed.  “Only good things I hope.”

“Oh, yes, all wonderful things.”  Maggie rushed.

Nolan and his wife laughed.  Maggie thought back to the picture on his desk at the shop.  Something wasn’t quite right.  An older daughter, a baby girl, a younger boy—there was a son missing.

Looking from face to face she opened her mouth to say something, inquire about the boy she had yet to meet, when Grey appeared at her side.  He stared at her meaningfully but she couldn’t guess at his meaning.

“This is my wife, Maggie.”  Grey said, clearly addressing his cousins.  “We got married.”  He added, when the foyer remained quiet.

“Why didn’t we get to go to the wedding?”  Keer asked, her tone slightly accusatory.

“Yeah!”  Exclaimed Lola.  “We’re flower girls!”  Maggie guessed she was making reference to Avalon’s upcoming wedding.

“We didn’t have a wedding.”  Grey explained.

“But you just said you got married.”  Keer countered, trying to catch her cousin in a lie.

“Kiki, not every marriage has a wedding.”  Zahra Delaney said gently. 

“Whaaaat?”  Lola asked, craning around her father to stare at her mother.

“Oh, like, justice of the peace?”  Keer asked.  Maggie was impressed.  How old was the girl?  She looked like maybe she was ten or eleven.

“Exactly.”  Grey said.  “Nobody went, just me and Maggie and the JP.”

“Why?”  Keer demanded.

“Keer Delaney, watch the tone please.”  Her father said quietly.

She pouted.  “Sorry.”

The foyer went quiet again.  Maggie swallowed.  She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.

“Hi Maggie.”  Jonah finally broke the quiet, crossing to her and kissing her cheeks gently.  “You look lovely.”  He said generously.

“Hi.  Oh.  Thank you so much.  Hi.”  He smiled.  She thought he understood how she was feeling and was grateful for his sympathy.

“I’m headed to see if I can be of any use in the kitchen.”  He said affably.  “I think I might be able to locate the cookie jar, if anyone wants to join me…”  He said striding toward the dining room with a small smile.

Lola pumped her legs in a frantic effort to get down, Ajay popped out from behind his mother, and even Keer lit up and spun to follow Uncle Jonah.

“Don’t spoil your dinner!” Zahra called after them.

“One cookie.”  Nolan was cautioning the squiggling little beauty on his hip. 

She nodded and whimpered and pushed against him, her spatula wand nearly smacking him in the face.  “Lola Jane.”  He said sternly, but Maggie thought she spied a twinkle in his eye.

“Yes Daddy.  Just one!”

He landed a swift kiss on her head before setting her loose.

“You have a beautiful family.”  Maggie said to the handsome couple remaining in the foyer.

They smiled in response and met eyes.  Maggie was moved to see how much love and affection and mutual respect could be contained in one small glance.  “Thank you.”  Zahra said at the same time Nolan said “Thanks.”

“Where is—“ She began, thinking of the older boy in the picture, but Grey cut her off.

“Did my mother ask you to do this?”  He asked shortly.  She furrowed her brow.  He looked formidable and grim.

“Do what?”  She asked, embarrassed by the tone he was using to address her.

He gestured to the tray she’d almost forgotten she was balancing on one palm.  She’d been a waitress since she was thirteen; it came as second nature to her to walk around with large trays.  Besides that, she came from a large, fairly traditional Mexican family.  There wasn’t a single family gathering that didn’t involve her walking around with a tray of something or other.

“Oh.  No.  Your grandmother asked me—“

Grey’s expression darkened.  “She ‘asked you’?”  He demanded.  “Or did she tell you?”

Maggie blinked several times and wondered at the difference.  Her own grandmother never exactly ‘asked’ when she wanted something done, she simply directed Maggie to a task.  She thought back to her interaction with Grey’s grandmother.  “Um.  I suppose she ‘told’ me—but—“

“Put it down.”  Grey said coolly.

Maggie stared at him.  He wasn’t looking at her.  It felt as though he was rather disgusted with her.  “It’s alright, I don’t mind helping—“

“Put it down.”  He repeated, this time with steel edging the command.

“I don’t understand—“  Maggie said, her voice hardening to match his.  She didn’t like being ordered around by him.

She felt the tray being lifted from her hand and she startled—being a waitress for so long made her nerves jump at the thought of a spilled platter.  But it was Nolan.

“Let me.”  He said gently.  “Once a cater-waiter, always a cater-waiter.”  He smiled.

“I really don’t mind.”  Maggie protested.

“She told you to carry it because she assumed you’re the goddamned help.”  Grey snapped.

Maggie froze.  She watched Nolan’s smile evaporate and his eyes narrow at Grey.  “You’re the guest of honor.”  He said in a forced neutral tone, speaking to Maggie but not taking his eyes off his nephew.  “Why don’t you go ahead into the living room and relax.”

Suddenly Maggie remembered the comment Mrs. Calder had made about Maggie’s ability to speak English, about the ‘also nanny’ exchange, and then about what she thought she’d heard her say about Nolan’s ‘mixed’ family and she washed over furious. 

“Thank you Mr. Delaney.”  She said stiffly.  “But I think I’d like to go offer Mrs. Calder some Pate.”

Nolan’s eyes flicked back to Maggie and he stared at her.  Then he grinned.  “I understand the impulse.”  He said.

He looked ready to hand the tray back but Grey grabbed her elbow and steered her out of the foyer without another word.  She allowed him to do it only because she wasn’t willing to have a scene in front of his family.  She wanted to pull away and give him a piece of her mind.

When they’d crossed into the living room, which was blessedly vacant at present, he pulled her around and put a finger on her lips.  Her eyes widened and she had the insane impulse to bite it.  Who the hell did he think he was?  What gave him the right to man-handle her and shush her like a naughty child?

“Nolan’s son died three years ago.” He said in an urgent whisper.  “They’re better about it now but whenever it gets mentioned he tends to go off the deep end.”

Her lips parted in shock and he removed his finger somewhat carefully.  She was startled.  Then filled with grief for them.  Then very, very grateful that Grey had so deftly circumvented her near colossal faux-pas.  “Oh my God.”  She breathed.  “I’m so sorry.”

Grey licked his lips, swallowed, and nodded.  “I figured he’d never said anything at work, and that you might be expecting four kids if you’ve seen pictures.”  He said, keeping his voice low.  “He never, ever talks about it.”  She felt his grip on her elbow soften.  “I should have told you before we got here.”

They were standing quite close.  His gentle hold on her elbow felt warm and strong, and very distracting.  Her lips felt flushed and strange where his finger had been.  She gazed into his pale green eyes and could barely draw breath.  She thought she saw a ghost of grief and pain in his eyes and she reached up, without a second thought, and gently placed her hand on his face.  His cousin.  She’d lost a baby cousin when she was maybe twelve, and it had been just awful for the entire family.  She watched him blink several times at the presence of her hand on his cheek, but he didn’t pull away.

“Like father like son.”  Said an icy voice from behind Maggie.  “Keep your paws off the help Calder Grey—I hope you signed a prenuptial agreement; I don’t want half my company in the hands of the young lady you’ve scorned when she catches you playing with the servants.”

Maggie’s jaw fell all the way open and Grey’s grip on her elbow clenched once again as her hand hastily leapt off his cheek.  She watched something cold and dark steal over his expression before he curled his lips into a dangerous smile.  Gently he guided her lower jaw back upward, his index finger curled under her chin, his eyes locked on hers.  Then he placed a hot, electric kiss on her lips.

Maggie felt hot and cold all over.  She heard the woman tisk in disgust behind her.  His tongue flicked over her lips once, then, just as suddenly as it had come, his mouth was off hers and he was pulling himself to his full height and spinning Maggie to face the old crone.

“Granny!  You’re looking radiant as usual.”  He said in a mockery of a warm greeting.  “I’d like to introduce you to my wife.  Magdalena Teresa Ramirez Delaney? My Grandmother, Mrs. Sebastian Calder Esquire.  You can call her Granny.”

Maggie stared wide-eyed at the woman and endured the woman’s pale, ice-blue eyes scanning over her from head to toe several times, each once-over proving apparently more disagreeable to the woman than the last.  “I’m not remotely in the mood for your little jokes tonight Calder.”  She said dismissively and moved into the room.  “Better let her scurry off back to the kitchen, I don’t think your brainless mother thought to hire more than one of them this evening.  Eighteen guests and only one server?  I swear that girl gets more empty-headed every day.”

Maggie heard a small, almost inaudible growl from the man beside her and his grip on her elbow was becoming bruising.

“I’m so pleased to finally meet you Mrs. Calder.”  Maggie ventured, afraid of what Grey would say otherwise. 

The woman sneered at her and looked distinctly put-off at being addressed by ‘the help’.  “What have you done with your tray?”  She demanded coldly.

“Granny, it seems your age is catching up with you.  You must not have heard me well enough. This is my wife.”  Grey repeated, his voice chilly and threatening. 

“Oh there you both are!  Good!”  Velvet Delaney rushed into the room looking flushed with excitement.  Viola trailed after her looking bored and quite beautiful.  “Oh, mother, you’ve met Maggie?”

Mrs. Calder looked faintly furious as she began to comprehend that this young, plain, Mexican girl was indeed now legally related to her.  “This enchanting creature?”  She asked, her tone dripping with poison.

Velvet grinned and nodded enthusiastically.  “Don’t they look gorgeous together?!”  She hurried over to caress Grey’s cheek once more and then squeeze Maggie’s free hand excitedly. 

“Very handsome.”  Mrs. Calder responded, her lip curled into an ungracious sneer.  “But of course we know his blood could be mixed with just about anything, afterall, so it’s likely in his nature to seek out the more, colorful, types.”

“Mother!”  Velvet looked hurt and mortified and very distressed.

“Hey Maggie, wanna see Grey’s old room?”  Viola asked brightly, wresting possession of Maggie’s elbow from Grey as he released it and began striding toward his grandmother.

“Um—“  Was all she managed as Viola steered her from the living room.  She craned her neck to try to watch what was happening behind her.

Velvet had both her hands on Grey’s arm, which seemed to be enough to keep him in check, and Mrs. Calder appeared entirely unruffled.

As she and Viola reached the foot of the stairs Mr. Delaney strode into the foyer and halted.

“You better get in there.”  Viola said with a smirk, dragging Maggie up the first few steps.  “Mum needs you.  Grey’s about to murder Granny.”

Maggie watched with a mixture of alarm and fascination as Mr. Delaney sighed, adjusted his glasses, nodded firmly, and strode toward the living room.

“So.  Having a good evening so far?”  Viola laughed as she pulled Maggie insistently upward.

“Shouldn’t we—“  but Maggie didn’t really know what she should be doing.  She wanted to be down there, with Grey, but at the same time she wanted nothing less.  She was concerned and very confused; what had all that been about?  What had Mrs. Calder meant by some of those things she’d insinuated?  Maggie recognized well enough that they were insulting, but much of what the woman had said made very little sense to her.  “Should we, go? Help?”

“Nah.  My Dad will handle it.  He always does.”  Viola sounded confident.  “C’mon, Grey’ll come up here and get us when my Gran’s been put in her place.” 

Maggie furrowed her brow.  This really was going to be a very long night.

Going for some kind of record!

LOL.  Today's THX THX THX was to her period, which  is humorous, because for the second month in a row I was going to give a shout out to my monthly gift!

Dear Period,

Thanks for holding out until the day AFTER my amazing multi-orgasmic sexcapade!  In the past you've had a reputation for being kind of a cock-blocker.  But, Lady, sometimes you really know how to respect the proverbial sock on the doorknob and wait till morning.  Two months in a row you have been an absolute gem.  

Thanks a million!

Beth

Prolly post more of LONG NIGHT today.  or tomorrow.  I know no one's really following.  I've been having a ton of fun writing about when Nolan and Zahra met.  I'm kind of all gooey and gushy about it, and can't wait to see how it unfolds.  just an amusing side-story for me.  Maybe i'll never even publish it here!  Nah, I prolly will.  It might be necessary to take a break from all the depressing, destructive storylines and focus on a really nice one.

So I've started taking note of which words I consistently misspell-- remember a couple of months back when I gave a list?  I've gotten better at many, but here are the ones that persist!

Eachother

Judgement

Intruiging

Squeek

Attatched

Choclate

Wild.  I feel like I should write a scene around those words or something.

Ok.  Gotta get ready for aftercare!!

Hearts.