Page 83 of Exquisite Things
Maud slams me down onto the mattress. Clouds of dust rise up and make us both cough so hard that we can’t help but laugh. I struggle against her, but it’s no use. She’s got me. And I want her to win too. That’s the beauty of being surrounded by people you love. You want them to win, even if it means you lose.
Bram. London. January. 1981.
“Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. HAPPY NEW YEAR.”
We all hug. Lily holds me close. Says she loves me. Maud pulls me and Oliver into a group hug. Archie, Azalea, Poppy, and Blossom gather us into a circle. The first song we dance to this year is Johnny Osbourne. “Truths and Rights.” The whole shebeen sings along. Loudly.
“Children, run, come, the truths and rights. That’s what I’m about. You know the truths and rights. Teach it to the children.”
There’s something so beautiful about this moment. So wholesome. No one is drunk. Pearl stopped serving alcohol since the police raids started getting worse. Thatcher and hermoral values. Mary Whitehouse and hermoral values. Lily’s first show might have led to threats and protests. Thankfully it also led to another show. A new career in theater. Archie and Lily prefer Pearl’s without alcohol. No pushy people asking why they aren’t drinking. No need to explain their sobriety to drunks.
We sing out: “When you think it’s peace and safety, Lord. It could be, could be sudden destruction.”
The song ends. More reggae plays. We order sodas at the makeshift bar that once served Red Stripe and Tennent’s.
We share our favorite memories of 1980.
I say: “Oliver coming to London.”
Oliver says: “Changeling moving into the house.”
Lily says: “This moment. Right now.”
Maud says: “But it’s already 1981!”
Lily says: “Well then, perhaps I like 1981 even more than 1980. A new year. A new start.”
We dance in the cramped and smoky space until Pearl kicks us out. We walk home singing Johnny Osbourne as a police siren interrupts us from a nearby street. They all ignore it. I try to as well. But I’m suddenly filled with another wave of superstitious panic. The siren feels like a bad omen, a warning that sudden destruction could puncture our peace and safety at any moment.
Oliver. London. Valentine’s Day. 1981.
Valentine’s Day. A day that celebrates the saint who dared perform weddings for Christians who were forbidden from marrying each other. A day that should therefore belong not to all lovers, but to forbidden lovers.Ourday. My day to show Bram how much I love him. He’s chased and celebrated me. Today, I want to celebrate him.
“Good morning, my love,” I mutter, still groggy. Changeling meows happily. Paws gently at my cheek. “Yes, good morning to you too, but I was talking to—”
I reach for Bram. He’s not there. I check the time. It’s almost eleven. I’ve slept in. I suppose secretly planning a surprise trip for two in between sessions has exhausted me. I’ve spent months saving enough money from sessions to book what I think and hope will be a surprise worthy of our forbidden love. I haven’t told him a thing about the trip. Simply asked him to clear his calendar from this afternoon until tomorrow night. He almost looked disappointed, like he wanted to be the one to plan our first proper Valentine’s Day together.
Sixty-one years we’ve circled each other. Now, finally, we get to celebrate our love. Our flight leaves in four hours.
I stumble past Lily’s workroom. I imagine she’s in there, working the day away. I expect to find Bram in the living area, reading quietly so he won’t wake me up. Maud should be at the bookshop. But when I enter the kitchen, it’s full. Of people and also of tension. Lily, Maud, Azalea, Poppy, Blossom, and Archie are clustered inside. Bram is missing. Nobody looks happy.
“Ah, Sleeping Beauty has arisen,” Lily says when she sees me. She pulls me close. Her hair is in curlers. Her face isn’t on yet. It’s rare to see Lily without a single stroke of blush, eyeliner, or lipstick. I love the untouched warmth of her face. She is the sun we orbit around. I wonder if all families are like this. One member the sun. Another the moon. Me... which planet would I be?
“It’s ENRAGING,” Maud yells at all of us, and at none of us, and at the walls and the ground. Maud would be Mercury maybe. Hot and mercurial. A bubble of rage boiling just beneath the surface. “I feel sick to my stomach.”
Lily lets go of me and shines her light on Maud now. “We all do, child. But we can’t do anything reckless—”
“Reckless?” Maud spits her words out, barely breathing. “Our kind don’t need to do nothing reckless to get arrested or worse. They can stop us forsuspectingus. And theyalwayssuspect us.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, afraid of the answer. I wanted to start the day with kisses and declarations of love. Dreamed of sweeping Bram off his feet and into a new city. I wanted to orchestrate the day like a conductor. Packing our bags would be the overture. Dancing to an accordion player on the Seine would be the crescendo.
No one answers my question. Lily shakes her head, indicating I shouldn’t interrupt. I should let Maud burn like Mercury.
“And you know what pisses me off the most?” Maud asks.
Lily clutches Maud’s hand both tightly and gently. It’s a rare giftLily has, the ability to be both firm and tender in the same breath. “That human life is not valued equally.”
“But you already knew that, didn’t you?” Poppy asks.
