New readers may learn about me here.
Jana does things, and I was blaming her regardless of whether she was connected to the invitation I held in my hand as I stood on the porch.
“What’cha got?” the kitten asked as she performed maneuvers on an ice pop that, if observed, would make midsections of her fans stand at attention.
“It’s an invitation. The Island Ladies Auxiliary has invited me to be their keynote speaker at this spring’s fundraiser.” I couldn’t believe the words as I pushed them out.
“Really!? That’s awesome!” Kona took the engraved papers from my numb fingers and started slurping over them.
“Fancy! Black tie. I’ll design outfits for all of us!” She quivered while slurping, which was a skill I briefly cataloged before returning to my present reality.
“I wouldn’t get too excited. It has to be a mistake,” I said. “And besides, doesn’t ‘formal’ mean clothes? You know, like people wear?” That question looks strange on paper, but in the moment, Kona’s total outfit consisted of two mismatched short socks, her ankle hooks for her inversion bar, and a hair tie-backy. And drips from her icy pop in her points region.
“I’ve got ideas! You handle the words, I’ll handle the outfits.” She opened the screen door and maneuvered through, bellowing like a mastodon up the stairs. “Sharon! Millie’s gonna make us all famous!”
The door slapped closed behind her and I took my spot on my wicker throne, thinking.
Three weeks later on a Saturday evening at the fanciest private club on the island, I tapped the mic, cleared my throat a few times, and did the obligatory “Can you hear me?” before taking a breath and looking out across the room.
Bits of residue from a fine catered dinner remained on the tables, the staff busy trying to quietly clear away the most notable of empty plates. The key lime desserts were still being consumed with delicate bites and the refined minimal chewing of the upper crust.
I took a few seconds to give Jana a stare-down at her table, center left while I fingered my rose-colored butterfly pendant.
The enormity of the cliff I saw took my breath away, literally, and I took another drink of water, buying time as north of four hundred eyeballs tracked my every move.
“I’d like to start…” I started. Because starting is important. But so is saying something after the word “start” and that’s where I went flat. I cleared my throat, took another drink and launched round two.
“What I mean to say, is… thank you for this wonderful opportunity to talk with you tonight.” Crickets chirped. A few chairs repositioned on the hardwood floor. The quiet hum of the air conditioning spun up to “High Intensity”, matched only by the pounding of my pulse in my ears.
“I’ve got some made-up statistics about how many people are afraid of public speaking. I’m glad to say, it doesn’t bother me at all. Public listening, on the other hand — what you all are doing, now that is the terrifying part.” A few people chuckled, and I wondered if there was an exit within easy reach.
I held up the engraved invitation. “I’m sure you all recognize this. I have to say, I never thought I would receive one of these, much less one like this — a speaker’s invitation.”
The table front right exuded mostly-pink emotion as Sharon, Kona, Tonya, Gus, Callie, Louisa, and Myrtle watched in silence. Kona’s outfits, all the girls in their Tiaras, and each wearing their own butterfly pendant in their coordinated colors - they looked fabulous. Kona always embraced the “less is more” philosophy, and Sharon had wrestled her down to ensure there was, momentarily, enough coverage to meet the minimum elegance standard. Gus rested easily in black and white. Karl served as the table’s centerpiece, a vase of flowers centered in his ring, his sunglasses hiding judgement.
I put my prepared speech down, took off my cheaters, and looked at the jury again.
“I like to think I’m mostly a fictionary, uh, writer. I love making people laugh, so I’m not one for formal speeches, typically,” I held up my sheaf of papers, “Though I do have one here. I think, instead, I’m just going to tell you a story.”
I looked out over the crowd, feeling my panic drop to just under full meltdown. “I’ve never done a stand-up routine, and this seems like a high-risk kind of place to start.”
I held up my left hand. “I carry this symbol every day. I’m sure you all appreciate what that means. What you may not know, is why. Tonight, I’m going to tell you.”
I took a breath and shot eye daggers at Jana, before returning to the mission. She smiled sweetly in return, like witches do, and folded her hands in her lap. Watching like a spider on a web or something. Light glinted off one of her horns as she moved her head.
“Nobody was more surprised than me when Tonya, Kona, Sharon, and Gus decided we should formalize our home with a permanent understanding. Although, if you know Sharon, you know she has a contract for every possible situation.” Laughter rippled around the room. “And if you know Kona, you know that consequences aren’t even an afterthought, they’re assigned to someone else.” The kitten flashed her megawatt smile, lighting the room.
“When I was a little girl, I did things with my mom that, perhaps, all little girls do.” Memories flooded back, taking me away on the tide as I worked on staying afloat.
“And when I started to become a bigger girl, my mom was right there with me, driving me to softball games, and so on. Other things. I’m sure all you ladies understand that.” I paused again to take in air and reschedule a stroke.
”My Dad and I used to play on the swings in our park. So many things.” I drifted off, remembering time with my dad on the swings — both of us squealing with laughter as we played…
Someone cleared their throat and I realized with a jolt that I’d stopped mid-talk for my drift down memory lane. Somehow, Sharon and Kona were standing beside me, Kona holding tissues, and Sharon’s hand resting lightly on my lower back.
I did tissue work, blew my nose, wiped eyes, smiled thanks, and resumed.
“That four hundred dollars a plate is looking like a real steal, now, isn’t it?” I asked, sending a weak smile at the group. “See Millie blow her nose. Tonight only!” A smattering of laughs came out from the crowd and some people eased in their chairs.
“These two…“ I gestured at Kona and Sharon, “well, we’ll get to them.” The girls stepped back but hovered somewhere behind me.
“What I’m trying to say is, there’s a time in our lives when we make these special bonds to others. Daughters to Mothers. Daughters to Fathers. Each of us to others. And those bonds carry us through time.”
I did more tissue work. Kona was owning the contract for prompt service and Sharon was manning a small trash can for my disposals.
“I’ve been thinking about relationships a lot. Especially since I was given this,” I waved my left hand again, this time holding the engraved invitation aloft. “My friend Jana, who’s here, suggested I write about things that push against my emotions. And I’ve been doing that, privately.” I raised my papers as “exhibit A”, took a breath, and plowed on over the edge.
“The speech I wrote for tonight talks about emotions. And why they matter. But I think it’s probably mostly a good way for me to put you to sleep. It’s mostly numbers, anyway. With a few lies sprinkled here and there.” A few snickers came from the corners and someone cleared their throat again. I focused on more breathing, front and center, with some extra lip licking for good measure.
“I lost my parents before I was ready, and that has made the things they taught me seem more important, somehow.”
I briefly wanted to throttle Jana for getting me into this mess, but realized there might be consequences with so many witnesses. Kona’s tissue contract was getting a workout.
“So… anyway…. relationships.” My voice had taken on the qualities of a frog with laryngitis as I made a deposit into Sharon’s bucket.
“Kona, Sharon, Gus, and I came to your island just under two years ago. Our business brought us together, but here we have made a home. A home together. And in that home, we have become a family.” Off to my right, I saw Gus quietly rise and move over to the side of the room, apparently entering into some sort of conspiracy with people I didn’t recall meeting.
“Key West is a special place.” I resumed, trying to ignore Gus and focus on stringing words and thoughts together in some meaningful way. “I think it was before we got here, but it certainly is now. And I have to say, we love it here. We love you all. In fact, I think we probably love everyone. Especially online.” Jana snorted at her table, and refined elegance snortled around the hall.
“Since we arrived, we’ve met some very special people, and they’ve become part of our family, too. Louisa.” Louisa looked at me, twisted, then stood to face the crowd. “David and Marie LeMon are here, and I’d like to thank them publicly for letting us share their daughter.” I gave a smile and a nod to their table. “I know it breaks some sort of rule to say it, but Marie’s key lime pie is the best I’ve had.” There was a cascade of laughter across the room as the home-town joke landed. I looked back at the Tiara table and Gus was back in his seat, so apparently the world hadn’t ended.
“Tonya.” Our Marine rose and faced the group. “Callie.” Our data girl followed protocol, nodded at me before turning to face the crowd, and there was a look of something new on her face. Vulnerability, maybe. She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin Gus offered. I paused, thinking about that, before continuing.
“And, of course, Myrtle.” The octogenarian stood without words, probably for the first time in her life. “I understand that more than one Myrtle on the island at a time is prohibited, but I’m glad we have at least this one.” Myrtle cackled and behaved. “And of course, everyone knows Gus.” Hunk number one rose and gave an awkward wave.
“I have stories about Myrtle, but I’m guessing everyone in the room does too.” More honest, quiet laughter rippled around the room and Myrtle blew everyone a kiss before taking her seat again with the others.
“Anyway, back to relationships…”
“Key West…. you all…. have accepted us for who we are. In here.” I touched my chest, briefly. “And of course, some of you for who we are, out here.” I traced a Kona shaped profile in the air with my hands, triggering more laughter. Beside me Kona shimmied, and on the other side, I felt Sharon’s mortification launching distressed sparkles into the atmosphere. Somewhere in the back of the room, someone whooped and a two finger whistle shrieked, blasting decorum aside as it flew through the air.
“I’ve mentioned several times that we are a family. And I believe that with all my heart. Perhaps we are unconventional in some ways, but our dedication is just the same as tradition defines.” I flashed my ring again as supporting evidence.
I blew my nose again as the enormity of what I was saying started sinking in.
“My mother….” The train screeched to a halt and three tissues went to work.
“My parents,” I started again, switching courses and condemning Jana to the gallows at dawn, “might not have foreseen my family as it is today.” I paused, looked around, and took Kona and Sharon with my hands. “But I’m sure they would choose for me a life of love, and joy, no matter where it comes from.” I swallowed hard several times. “Because that is what parents do.”
“I remember playing on swings in our local park with my dad. And the lessons he gave me there were many, but one of them was this. ‘Millie’, he would say. ‘Always be who you want to be, who you are inside. No matter what others think, or say.’”
I looked across the room, settling on Gus and Tonya. “‘Because if you are true to yourself, you will always be free. I think that’s probably a Navy or Marine thing, but regardless, my father’s words have guided me most of my life.”
I pulled Sharon and Kona into a group hug, and we stood united. “Thank you for letting us be here this evening, and thank you for letting us be part of your community. And thank you all, for being part of my family.”
There was a smattering of applause as I released the girls, and I lifted a hand. They went quiet and I leaned forward, into the mic.
“I have one last thing — and it’s the only part of my prepared speech that seems worth sharing.” I looked around the room, seeing that Jana’s horns had accidentally retracted and the halo over our Tiara table was glowing bright.
“I’m Millie Torres. My wish for you is that you all be well. Be free. And be who you were meant to be. Good Night!”
Kona and Sharon both mobbed me at that moment. The room went blurry, the noise grew, the music started, leading with Louisa’s latest studio piece, and the moment passed into history.
Gus is a man of action. And that’s all I need to say about that. Except, Thank you, Mr. Gusterson. Again.
