Departure

Taking Tom to the airport.

New readers will benefit from reading Sharon, Lighthouses, A Quiet Arrival, The Visit, Mr. Mercer, Dinner with Max, Annie Who?, The Parrot Talks, Girlfriends? and Momositas Revelation for background and foundations.

We set off on the two mile run to the airport like a convoy destined for greatness. Tonya was driving, next to me, with Tom and Sharon in the VIP seats. We all were branded and wearing Tiaras. The carts had been decorated for the trip with stick-on black racing stripes down low and pink tinsel boa’s, along the top of the cage.

Gus had done a quick update with spray paint and a ‘Taira Life’ stencil.

Karl, Myrtles therapy flamingo floatie was zip tied to the top of Louisa’s cart, serving as lookout.

Our company pennants were back on the front bumpers, with an extra one flying high in case nobody noticed us. Safety strobes flittered and Louisa had programmed the music to sync between both carts. Born to be Wild rolled out at a satisfactory volume, per Tom’s request. He and Sharon were cutting up in the back as we pulled out, boas ripping out behind us in the moist air like sparkly whips of tawdry garland.

The three hours since Alex had arrived at our home had been like repainting our house with Essence of Approved Glitter Fest. A recap might help catch you up.

Alex had endowed the porch with a social upgrade. She sat in the chair next to me and I started down the road to airborne bliss. Her accent painted singing doves on the railings around us.

She caught me looking at her and didn’t look away.

“That chair suits you,” she said, nodding at my wicker throne.

“It’s a relationship,” I said. “We’ve been through things.”

She smiled, giving just the right amount of space before changing the subject. “I had a lovely evening with Sharon,” she said. The awkward phase fully ignited.

“She seemed to have a good time,” I said. Myrtle cackled, crafting another red cup mystery.

“She is simply wonderful. Such a beautiful mind and personality.”

“We like to think so.” I eased my position and the Russians removed one level of filtering. “She’s a hot mess, but I love her.”

“Not the only one,” Myrtle added. “Best jigglers in the house.”

“That was very apparent.” Alex’s eyebrows popped as she realized she might have made a suggestive comment. “Millie,” she said, recovering, “I mean to say, this group of yours is fascinating. So much talent, personality. You are all so vibrant and real. It’s breathtaking, really.”

“Taking breath is what they do every time they do a stream,” Myrtle injected. “Comments in the chat will singe the hair right off your…”

“Ok! I think Alex has the picture.”

“…if you don’t keep it trimmed already.” Myrtle resumed fruit processing on her cutting board while I restructured my approach.

I was searching for a rock to stand on, but Myrtle’s firehose kept knocking me sideways.

“So, you decided to visit us this morning?” It was a question, but seemed a little obvious.

Alex repositioned herself. Angled slightly toward the street, one leg crossed in a way that suggested she was perfectly comfortable being watched but had no intention of performing. I filed it away for a try myself, sometime when I was alone. And had two operational knees.

“Orange Russian for you,” Myrtle said, offering a red cup.

“Thank you! Salute’.” Even her gestures were high class, somehow. “I did. I wanted to see Mr. Mercer before he departs, and Sharon provided such a delightful review of your home that I simply couldn’t stay away.” She sipped. “I hope that wasn’t too much of an imposition…”

The opening riffs from ABBA’s piano launched The Winner Takes It All, flowing across the yard. Louisa took a breath and joined in the opening lyrics, showing the world why she was classified as ‘the talent’ on the masthead.

“It’s no bother at all. Might be good for you to see us in our natural habitat, so to speak.” I sniffed deeply and the Russians removed another layer of filters. “Sharon and her dad are out for a walk. You’re welcome to stay for brunch. The menu’s probably going to be exotic. Kona usually draws traffic from the street.”

“People need entertainment,” Myrtle wheezed. Out in the yard, the anthem started climbing, Louisa singing and dancing beside Gus and the grill like she was on stage again.

“I do love that song.” Alex took in the floor show before continuing. “Miss Thompson is remarkably talented.” Another pause as Louisa owned her space. “Speaking of Miss Hargrove, I wonder if I might visit with her? If it’s not an imposition.”

“Sure. She’s inside, in the kitchen, probably. Just keep going back, past the stairs.”

“Thank you. I best be about that before things begin to pick up, yes?” She rose and fogged me again with essence of desire as she departed.

Louisa crested with the music. “The winner takes it all….”

Sharon and Tom were laughing to the point of staggering as they turned into the yard. The party at home was just getting organized. The grill had done the shrimp thing. Gus had done the grill thing. And Alex was doing the Kona and Louisa thing.

“Now we’ll see things heat up,” Myrtle cackled, taking in the new arrivals. “Blondie’s off the rails.”

Kona, Alex, and Louisa were forming a girl trio in the sandy yard, belting out Super Trooper through the karaoke machine and doing body waves as they sang.

Tonight, the Super Trouper lights are gonna find me…

Gus added his baritone gravel and hips from where he was plating kabobs.

We were one step short of spectacle and it felt strangely reassuring. Sharon separated from her dad and joined the girl gaggle around the mic.

“We may have peaked,” I said. You remember the last time Sharon had to sing in public…”

“No audience today, ‘cept Karl. He’s always scouting talent.” Myrtle sipped from her third refill of her cup.

Tom settled into the chair beside me. “I don’t know what you all did to her, but keep doing it.” He smiled at me. “She hasn’t been like this since she was six.”

“Good walk?”

“Better than good. We cleared the air. Made some new commitments to each other.” He looked at Sharon, thinking. “It’s like we‘re starting over. In a good place.” Super Trooper died away and girl squeals filled the air in its place.

The conch train crawled down our street, the announcers’s voice indistinct in the distance. The girl gang conspired and the opening of Momma Mia started decorating the iguanas. A rooster crowed and the Conch Train drew to a stop by the gate as the they went full concert with a token bass. Louisa tickled the volume up, Myrtle handed Tom a cup, and I understood I didn’t want to question anything.

A smattering of applause came from the train. Someone shouted “Do another one!”

Sharon shimmied, Kona did a spin move and Alex spread her arms like a superstar accepting accolades. Kids on bikes started materializing on the street.

Seconds later, Chiquita started, Alex leading solo. The others hummed and ooo-ed as they orbited in the background. Alex put her arm around Sharon sharing the mic. Kona eased in on the other side. Louisa did a studio dance routine out front, making “I see you gestures” at the tourists and sending her mane around like an accent as she gyrated. A girl, about ten, was watching, wide eyed by the gate. Louisa pulled her into the yard, dancing with her in the sand as they rode the waves of ABBA emotion.

They did Fernando before breaking up and sending the train on it’s way. “Something never seen before on this tour folks,” the train’s commentator broadcast. “A real Momositas’ concert! Their house, built in 1890 for Captain…” The train turned the corner. Louisa gave her dance partner a last hug and whispers. Kona did a 2 finger whistle.

“Let’s eat!”