and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes
to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him
down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad
and yes I said yes I will Yes.
--James Joyce, Ulysses
Don fingers the pack, already half empty. He's cut down a lot over the years-- sometimes it'll take him two days to get through a pack, at his worst it's about a pack a
day now-- but his imagination keeps coming up with new ways for everything to go wrong, and every one of them seems to require a new cigarette.
He hacked into the Times last night, the book review, found out they're calling Dussendorf's Bride "an impressive debut." They compared it to Terry Prachett, and Scott Masterson, and J. R. R. Tolkien. Favorably.
So even if tonight goes completely wrong, they'll at least have the Times.
Unless of course they cut the review.
Maybe he'll go have another cigarette.
"Whaddya mean the caterers aren't here?" Maureen sounds truly irritated. "Mike was so busy running around today we didn't have time to eat anything, I'm starving..."
Don's about to go over and try to calm her down, but he hears a familiar voice. "Look, I know I don't have an invitation, but we're really, really old friends and they'll be, like, rightously pissed if I don't get in..."
"Ron," he calls over to the guy at the door, "let 'er in."
"You sure?"
"Oh, yeah."
"About time," Renet says, almost falling out of her Marie Antoinette costume as she scrambles toward him.
"We were supposed to know you'd be coming?"
"Waaal...did you really think I'd miss it?"
"Renet," Don says, "I learned long ago that I should never try to predict what you're gonna do."
She smiles at him, pecks him on the cheek. "So has he..."
"No he hasn't, so you better keep yer mouth shut."
She frowns in mock disappointment. "Aw, you never let me have any fun."
He smiles a little at that. "Nice costume."
"Ya like it?"
"The severed head's nice."
"I can get it to talk, too..."
"He hasn't hidden in the corner all night," Mike says. "Look, he's talking to Renet now...when did she get here?"
April says, "He's in a pretty good mood tonight, actually. For him."
"I don't know," Mike says. "I mean, after Angel was born, I figured things would...I mean, not get back to normal really, but...it was so much better, he started talking to you
again, and then when he went back to work....but it's like he got this far and then just stopped."
April puts an arm around Mike's shoulder, squeezes him. "Maybe we just haven't given it enough time."
"It's been three years, almost."
"Yeah, but...that's not that long. Not really..."
"Yeah," Mike says. "I guess not."
Maureen's telling her troubles to her cousin Sheila. "I mean, we're paying them enough, they should be here..."
"Hey, Maureen, can I talk to you for a second?"
She turns to Mike. "Sure."
"Not here..."
"It's about the caterers, isn't it?"
"Well..."
She storms off behind him.
"So you're going in the fall?"
"I guess so," Scott says without much enthusiasm. "I mean, his job's there, it's a great job, and there's nothing really to keep me here...there's a university out there that's offered me
a pretty good deal."
Don nods.
"You'll still do my page for me, won't ya?"
"Yeah. You'll keep paying me, won't ya?" Don looks at him, at the perfect blue eyes he's never really had a chance to see before. "You don't want to go, do you?"
"No," Scott says after a second. "I don't."
He hands her the parchment, holds his breath. "Mike?"
"Yeah?"
"This...this is a ketubah."
"Yeah," Mike says. "It is. And I got the ring, too. With the receipt and everything."
"There's no problem with the damn caterers at all, is there?"
He grins. "They should be here in half an hour. Don and April have the paperwork worked out, and the rabbi's around here somewhere...so?"
"So?"
"Maureen," he says. "I love you. C'mon, we've fasted, we got the chuppa around here somewhere, there's a klezmer band comin' in twenty minutes-- are you gonna marry me or what?"
Mike emerges from the side room grinning, and Don says, "Hey."
"What?"
"He's smiling."
"He's been smiling all night," Scott says.
"Just watch, okay?"
Mike smiles sheepishly at everyone, grabs the microphone. "Uh...everybody?"
Don murmurs "excuse me" to Scott, starts making his way toward the DJ.
"Look, when you were all invited, we told you this party was to celebrate my publishing my first book-- and it is, and you should all go out and buy it tomorrow--"
Everyone laughs, and Mike grins. "--anyway, that wasn't really why I wanted everyone here. I wanted you all around me because...well, I just asked Maureen-- honey?"
She shakes her head no, but a few of her friends grab her and push her up to the stage.
He kisses her cheek. "Um...I just asked Maureen to marry me. And she said yes."
Cheers. A couple of guys whistle. Maureen grabs onto Mike for support.
"So you're all invited to stick around...'cause we're gonna have a wedding tonight."
The crowd goes quiet. "Angel," Mike says, "wanna come up here too?"
Someone passes her up to the stage, and Mike kisses her..."everybody knows our daughter, right? She wants to tell you something..." he leans over, whispers to her.
"Stick around," she says. Mike grins like a maniac and whispers something else. She giggles at him, then turns back to the microphone. "It's gonna be a great party!"
They all smile and Maureen moves to jump off the stage-- then the music starts. "Oh, no," she says. "Not that song..."
Don's grinning up at her. "Oh, you know you love it..."
Maureen got married to a sanitation worker; She's livin' out in Brooklyn with her mother-in-law. And when her old man's sleepin', Maureen comes creepin' down to the local bar...
"C'mon, Don, I've always been nice to you..."
Don just laughs, grabs Angela from Mike and starts dancing with her.
Beat me, whip me, make me write bad checks-- there's nothing that I wouldn't do-- Oh Maureen, don't be so mean-- you know I'll always be in lust with you...
Don spins Angela around, relaxed for the first time tonight, they never see him like this anymore...
Maureen I never stopped thinkin' about you though you kicked me out on the street, sayin' "take your songs and your Stratocaster-- see if they're half as good in bed as me..."
CRASH!
"Oh crap," Renet says, "the Scepter..."
A desert. Wonderful. Thanks, Renet...I really needed adventure...like another friggin' hole in my head...
Angela tugs at his hand. "Look."
There's a house-- if it isn't a mirage-- rising about twenty yards away. Adobe...great. He could be anywhere, a hundred years ago, fifty in the future...
He picks Angela up and starts walking toward the house.
"There," Renet says with that confident, perky tone that's always made Mike nervous. She pours the last of the delicate grains of sand back into the Scepter. Fortunately, no
one was really paying attention when she put the shattered glass back together with a word. At least Mike hopes no one was really paying attention. "All set. That wasn't so bad, now, was it?"
"Where's Angela?" Maureen asks.
"Angela?"
"My daughter," Mike says. "Cute little girl? 'Bout two?"
"Uh..."
"Renet?"
"I think...maybe I missed a little sand?"
"Renet."
Maureen's been surveying the crowd. "Don's not here either."
"Tell me they're together," Mike says, trying to mask his alarm, "and maybe..."
"Hold on!"
The building-- not really a house-- looks empty. There's the tracks of a motorcycle in front of the house; it's more modern than he'd first guessed. Maybe it's just a shelter of
some kind...
"Don," Angela says, and points into the house.
They walk in, enough to get a good look at it. It's a sensor of some kind, something familiar about it--
He looks at the skyline and it hits him. Los Alamos, maybe? Area 51?
Whatever it is, he'd better get them outa there before the explosion hits.
Whenever the hell that's gonna be.
"If you'd give me like ten seconds to concentrate, then maybe--"
Mike barks at her, "What if we don't have ten seconds?"
Maureen, who isn't buying any of this Sacred-Sands-of-Time silliness and is still not completely convinced Don and Angela aren't hiding around the corner, takes Mike by the hand. "Honey, maybe we oughta just let her concentrate?"
"Ya don't understand," Mike says, "we wore fur and ate pterodactyl for a month 'cause she dropped that stupid thing into the mouth of a fish...dammit, what happened to
the older one? The mature one?" He lets him lead her away, though, leaving Renet to concentrate on the hourglass. If she could just find some disturbance in the timeflow, even a ripple...
If there was anything, even a landmark, it would help, but there's nothing out here but a seamless stretch of sand. It's flat and hot and desolate as far as the eye can see.
And he doesn't have the water to do much exploring.
Thankfully, he can trust Angela to stay in the cabin, at least for a little while, and he steps out, lights a cigarette, starts scouting the territory.
Come on, Donatello. You're the smart one. Change something, anything, just give me a sign...
Renet's alone now, in the room Mike used to propose. She's narrowed it down to the nineteen-forties, North America, which is something when you consider the millennia Lord Simultaneous controls...
consider that Lord Simultaneous is gonna have her ass on a plate when he hears about
this...Concentrate, Renet. There are only so many places they could be without already screwing up something...
Maureen rubs Mike's shoulders. "Look, are you really sure they're not just pulling some kinda joke?"
"Maureen, you need brains to pull off a joke like that."
"But that doesn't make any sense. If she's really in charge of the Sands of Space-Time or whatever--"
"The Sacred Sands of Time," Mike snaps.
"Yeah, if she's such a dingbat, how come--"
"Lord Simultaneous doesn't seem to look for brains when he's hiring new recruits."
Nothing twenty yards north, south, east or west. And Renet is nowhere in sight.
Don lights another cigarette, figures he ought to finish it before he heads back to the
shelter.
Casey and Scott practically collide on the way to the bar. "Oh," Scott says, "I'm
sorry--"
"You're the author."
"Excuse me?"
"Scott Masterson?"
"Yeah."
"Recognized ya from the book jackets." Casey sticks his hand out. "Casey Jones. April's husband. We really appreciate everything you've done for Mike..."
April's married? Scott stuffs the surprise in the back of his mind. "Nice to meet you."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah." Machine oil under his fingernails. His hands looks scrubbed, but no enough to get rid of the last of the grime. Scott wonders what he does for work.
"This novel of Mike's..."
Scott nods.
"Is it good? Really?"
"Not bad. For a first novel especially." What he'd told Mike was it's a little on the predictable side, but they won't hold that against you, not the first time. And it's funny,
that's good. Good length. That's not what'll make it sell, though...
"Will people buy it?"
"Yes." It'll sell for your characters. You make us care about them. You make us love them. Everyone will be dying to find out what happens next. Hell, I wanna know.
"He'll probably outsell me one of these days."
"That doesn't bother you?"
Scott shrugs his shoulders. "I pay the bills. All I really care about."
Raven runs up, dragging April and Shadow behind her. "Daddy?"
"Yeah, lovey?"
"Can't find Angie!"
"I bet she's around here somewhere," he says with his usual breezy confidence. "C'mon, we'll go look for her." He nods at Scott. "Nice ta meet ya."
Scott's left facing April. He notices the wedding ring, now. Wonder how long she's been married? "How ya doin'?"
"All right," she says, smiling. "I see you met my husband."
He nods. "Nice guy."
Her smile widens a little. "You met Don, right?"
"Yeah." He grins. "You didn't warn me the costume covered everything."
She shrugs her shoulders. "I told you. I've known 'em-- what, eight years now? And they've shown their faces to maybe ten people? Including Maureen and Casey and the kids?"
He says gently, "He's not gonna do many conventions, huh?"
"Not out of costume, anyway."
Chris shows up suddenly, grabs Scott's arm. "Where've you been?"
"I was just--"
"Look, do we really have to stay around for the wedding?"
"Yes," Scott says, and April can sense an argument coming on. "You know, I haven't seen Don...maybe I should go look for him..." She backs away.
Come to think of it, where is Don?
He gets back and Angela's staring at the sensor. "What does it do?"
"It tells people--"
She asks hopefully, "Tells people we're here?"
"You know, Angela," he says thoughtfully, "it just might--"
The sirens start blaring then, and she claps her hands to her ears. If one of those sensors jumps before the blast hits-- worth a try. He starts kicking at the sensor, taking Angela in
his arms, getting his hands over her ears to give her a little extra protection.
Los Alamos. Five minutes before the blast, ten miles from ground zero. "'Bout time," Renet growls, shakes the hourglass--
When the light hits, Don thinks it's the blast, but then there's that smell, and that familiar sick feeling-- damn he hates this part--
"Ta-daaah!" Renet cries triumphantly. "Took ya long enough to find that sensor..."
"What?"
"The sensor, Uncle Don. Uncle Don?" She turns to Renet. "Loud."
"Deaf as a doorknob, huh?"
"Doorknob?"
"What?"
Renet comes out, makes an A-OK sign to Maureen. Don's standing behind her, wearing the most artificial smile Maureen's ever seen in her life. She grabs Mike by the hand, rushes over. Mike takes Angela up in his arms, just stands there, holding her, stroking her curls with his thick fingers.
Don takes Maureen by the arm, gets his mouth very close to her ear. "She's gonna offer to take us back so the whole thing won't even happen. Tell her no. I'm completely deaf right now, so I'm just gonna nod and smile at everything you say, okay?"
"Okay," she says. Don nods. Don smiles.
"Time for the ceremony, right?" Renet asks glibly.
"Oh, God, we haven't even--"
Mike puts Angela down, somewhat reluctantly. "We better start," he says.
Fortunately, Maureen manages to find a pen to write on the napkin with.
Don, will you give me away?
"Me?"
She nods.
"At the ceremony?"
You give me away and Angela gives Mike away.
"Why...you wanted me?"
Yes.
"Maureen...why?"
'Cause I love you, you shmuck.
"Yes," he laughs, puts his arms around her. "Of course."
Finally they get the wedding party together: Casey and April, Sheila and Scott. Don and Mike get about five seconds together before the ceremony starts.
"You know," Mike says, "I kept hopin'--"
"Me too," Don says, and they embrace.
"The stupid knuckleheads--" Mike says, almost sobbing.
"Did Renet tell you--?"
"Yeah," Mike smiles a little. "That's something, I guess. They'll at least see us."
"And we'll send Maureen's brother pictures."
"Yeah, he's got an excuse."
"So do they," Don says patiently.
"What?"
"They're too dumb to know what they're missing."
All brides are beautiful, April thinks, even Maureen in that cat outfit. She looks good in the cat outfit actually, though a black cat costume's probably not the
wedding dress Maureen would have picked if she'd had the chance...
Married in black, you'll ride in a hack. April pushes the thought out of her mind.
Maureen's so damn thin, even after the baby; reedy rather than boyish. Her face is all right, striking, but too severe to be beautiful. Unless of course you're Mike, in which case it's the most beautiful you've ever seen.
They walk under the chuppa, and the rabbi starts the ceremony.
April's never been to a Jewish wedding before; she didn't know they sang. Thank God she's only supposed to stand here and hold things...
She can't believe how amazing this is.
She can't believe she's standing there, with her husband and her best friends, watching Mike get married. And she remembers the first time she saw him, seven years ago...he was so damn young then, they all were...
She blinks the tears out of her eyes. She always cries at weddings.
No one's head gets smashed into the ceiling during the chair dance, so it's considered a great success. And Mike and Maureen are laughing hysterically when they finally get off the chairs. Maureen scoops up Angela. "Come on, honey, we'll have a dance to
ourselves," she says.
"I love Klezmer," Renet says happily, and drags Casey onto the dance floor when April's not paying attention. It's the first good look Casey's had at her, and once he gets over the shock, he's more than glad to dance, with that slightly dazed, happy look on his face so many men get in Renet's presence. Mike's often wondered if Lord Simultaneous gets that look.
Scott grabs April and they start dancing. Don leans over to Mike. "Is it just me, or do they get...bigger every time we see her?"
"You noticed?"
"How can ya not?..."
Mike starts laughing, and Sheila taps him on the arm. "Can I have this dance?"
"Sure," he says, and they're gone.
Don makes sure he still has some cigarettes left and moves out toward the front door.
"You know," Scott says, pushing his blond hair back from his eyes, "those costumes are great, but they keep reminding me of my childhood trauma."
"Aww man," Chris groans, "not this one again..."
Don asks, "One trauma in particular?"
"Oh yeah," Chris answers sarcastically, "it's like the defining experience of his childhood, it taught him all about loss and letting go..."
Scott ignores him. "I was this little kid, I was like six or seven, and I had bought these turtles at a pet store. There were four of them. Just these little things, they were so cute, and I'd picked 'em out weeks ago, gave 'em all names and everything. I could even tell 'em apart. And that's not easy, with turtles, let alone baby turtles."
He takes another sip of wine. "And so finally my dad and I went to pick up the turtles-- I'd saved and saved and saved for 'em and he finally gave in and let me have 'em-- and I bought a bowl, a nice big glass bowl, and turtle chow and all that stuff. And we're walking down the street with these turtles, and all of I sudden I hear these brakes squealing."
Don looks at Mike. Mike looks at Don.
"And it's this old guy, blind, he'd walked out in front of this truck, and this guy comes outa nowhere and pushes him away, and this canister comes off the truck--"
Mike smiles a little. Don frowns.
"And smashes right into my bowl!"
Don asks, "And you lost the turtles?"
"They dropped right into the storm drain, and I was gonna go after 'em, but my Dad stopped me, and then I saw this big mahonkin' rat go down there..."
Mike starts slugging his beer down to hide the incredibly strange look forming on his face.
Don asks, "Trauma of your childhood, huh?"
Scott nods. "I loved turtles. I mean, Dad said he'd buy me some new ones, but it wasn't gonna be the same, I mean I'd even named the little dudes..."
Chris says, "you know, all the times I've heard this story, I've never once heard what you named them."
"Knowing you," Don says, "it was prob'ly after some obscure authors or Renaissance artists or something..."
"Nope," Scott says brightly. "The Beatles."
Mike almost chokes on the beer.
"The Beatles?" Don and Chris ask the question in unison.
"Yup," Scott says. "John Turtle and George Turtle and Paul Turtle and Ringo Turtle."
"Don't remember what kinda turtles they were, do ya?"
"No," he tells Don. "I do remember they were really, really cute."
"Look," Chris says without even pretending sincerity, "this was a lotta fun, but we gotta go..."
"You sure?" Mike says. "It's been great having you here..."
"You have a good night," Scott says. "Both of you. It was great to finally see you face to face."
"Yeah," Mike says.
"You too," Don tells him. Scott turns around, puts his arm around Chris, and they walk together towards the door. "Mike."
"Yeah?"
"Give me a sip of that beer."
"You stopped drinking three years ago."
"Give me a sip of it anyway."
"You okay?" Casey asks warily, well aware that he's sticking his neck out.
"Yeah," Don says. "I'm okay. I mean, I've been better, but..."
"I'm really glad you didn't...I mean, I'd understand it..."
"They woulda been married years ago if it wasn't for me," Don says softly. He still calls them too much, when he's had the nightmares sometimes he has to, but he tries to let
them have some time together. He's started taking Angela some; Casey and April are gonna take her tonight so he can take care of stuff after everyone leaves. She seems to like it at his place; everybody else is kind of uncomfortable, but she treats it all as a big adventure. He thinks they're gonna be a lot alike. 'Course, at not even two and a half, it is hard to tell...
"Maybe we oughta get the kids to bed, huh?"
"Heck with it...we'll get some sleep in the morning this way."
Casey laughs.
"I'm married," he says.
Don nods.
"I'm married."
"Yeah, Mike." He inhales, holds the smoke in, blows it out.
"Hey, smoke rings, cool."
Don laughs. "Yeah, my new skill. Still can't fight for shit, but damn, those smoke rings..."
"You're doin' fine," Mike says. "You could never fight for shit anyway."
"Thanks a lot."
"Why we work so well together, bro," he says, grinning. "I got the body and you got the brains."
"I don't know..." Don looks at the cigarette, watches the smoke rise.
"Maureen's comin' along good, don'tcha think?"
"Yeah, real good. Better than April, really."
"'Course she's younger." They both feel like Casey's holding April back at this point, but neither of them feel right saying it, even to each other.
"Yeah." Dammit, these things are gone fast. He stubs the butt out, leans against the wall.
"I think...I'm gonna start Angel soon. I mean, I've done a little with her, nothing serious, but...I mean, if anything happens..."
"She's gonna be a target," Don finishes.
"Yeah." Mike watches the traffic pass by, cabbies nudging their way around the other cars, buses roaring, the occasional terrified tourist. "That's what I hate about this...sometimes I wonder if..."
"You love each other," Don tells him. "That's a lot more than a lot of people have. I mean, planes crash, people blow up buildings, there's nothing we can do..."
"I guess you're right."
Don watches a red Camaro pass by. "It's funny, you watch long enough, you start typing people, don't you?"
"Like what?"
"Like the guy in the Caddy over there. Drug dealer, right?"
"Well...yeah," Mike says, getting it. "Could be a stockbroker..."
"But do stockbrokers wear shades at night?"
Mike laughs. "And that neon green car there...gotta be a pimp."
"Even though he may be some innocent artist or something..."
"And that guy there? Ninja. Absolutely."
"Shit," Don says, his voice growing serious, "you might be right about that..."
They watch in silence as the car disappears around the corner. Finally Don speaks.
"C'mon, Ringo," he says, putting his arm around Mike. "You and that wife of yours had better be getting home."
"Renet," Don says, "I don't know how we can thank you..."
Renet puts her arm around him, kisses the top of his head. "No problemo."
"Look, if you wouldn't mind..."
"What?"
Don fingers his lighter, remembers he's out. "When Leo left...Mike and I, we'd gotten really drunk that night...and Mike, Mike just passed out but when Leo came in, I was still
up. And I figured out he was leaving..."
His eyes dart to Renet, back out to the empty room. "I said some things...look, can you just tell him-- tell him I didn't mean it? Any of it? Tell him...you can't tell me if he's with
anyone?"
She shakes her head no.
"Just...tell him I love him. And I hope he's happy. And I hope...I hope he can forgive me."
She pulls him tighter. "I will."
