Epilogue
February
I’d never cleaned so much in my entire…well, since last year at this time.
The store and our little apartment above it were spotless.
Red lanterns, couplets, and scarlet paper cutouts of horses.
It’s believed that cleaning your house sweeps away bad fortune to make way for incoming good luck.
Chinese New Year, or Spring Festival as Grandpa and I called it, marks the end of winter and the onset of spring.
Outside, it looked nothing like spring, but it was the middle of February in Massachusetts.
Lingering snow was on the ground, but we knew that the earth was slowly preparing for spring, so we celebrated.
The four of us—Grandpa, Monique, Phil, and me—had taken a train to Boston’s Chinatown last weekend to take part in the massive annual celebration.
Phil had never attended and was blown away by the lion dancers, drums and cymbals, firecrackers, and amazing food booths.
We got to enjoy the unleashing of a giant gold dragon that had to be two hundred feet long and required several dozen people to carry and dance beneath it.
I’d been to the big celebration several times but never with a boyfriend to share it with.
Watching Phil reveling in my heritage made it ten times more meaningful.
He was so open to our people, ways, and philosophies that even Grandpa commented on it.
I fell in love with him even more deeply on that day, and that was something I wasn’t sure was even possible.
Tonight it was our little celebration at the store.
We’d closed early after a very busy day and were enjoying a shared party.
While the decorations and food were Chinese, the music was not traditional instruments or even a chorus of “Gong Xi, Gong Xi,” which translates in English to best wishes.
Nope, there was none of that bouncing off the walls and freshly dusted books.
We were rocking out to a mishmash of tunes ranging from Three Dog Night to Jethro Tull with some disco tossed in to honor it being Lunar New Year as well as Eloise’s birthday. She would have been in her sixties now if she’d not died. So she got to pick all the music for our little rave.
The partygoers were slim in number but large in shaking their groove things.
Reggie was trying to teach Caleb how to waltz in between taking Eloise out for spins around the non-fiction section.
Seemed our pleasant milkman had two left feet.
Roxie and Tray were outside at the moment, setting off fireworks, while Grandpa and Monique were chatting with Detective Kubo and his girlfriend, Penny, over by the cookbooks.
I was taking a turn dancing with Eloise. Both of us were doing our best to get a line dance going to “Le Freak” by Chic but not having much success. It was hard to line dance with only two people.
“Let me grab Phil and the others upstairs on the fire escape,” I told the silent blonde with the Farrah flip. She gave me a thumbs up and a timid smile. I wiggled my fanny over to the plum sofa under the stairs where Phil was sitting hunched over on himself as if he had a stomachache.
“Hey, handsome,” I said as I flopped down beside him. “Did you eat too many of the spring rolls?”
He lifted sad blue eyes from the cell cradled in his hand. “No, it’s not the food. I loved the fish and the sweet rice balls and the dish of dirty rice Monique brought, even if it did make my eyeballs sweat.”
Yeah, we liked things hot in this house.
“Then what’s up?” He’d been in such good spirits of late.
School was going well, the Lions had won the state championship, and our relationship was stronger than ever.
The owners of Cornwall Cove had not pressed charges.
Halleloo, to quote Shangela of Drag Race fame.
There had been many, many bodies found on the grounds.
Forensics and special teams from multiple governmental agencies were now trying to identify the jumbled remains.
It would take years probably. Detective Kobu had kept us well informed during everything, and we’d formed a sort of friendship.
Enough so, that we’d invited him to our little party, and he accepted without hesitation.
Maybe he just enjoyed being with other Asian people, or perhaps he was just curious to see what the house of a seer looked like.
I’d thought of venturing out to see what I could do to help, but the site was off-limits to civilians. Someday perhaps I’d return with Phil and walk the grounds, just the two of us, to see if all the unfortunate souls had finally found their peace.
“It’s dumb.”
“Nope, nothing you do is dumb. Tell me.” I nudged his shoulder with mine. With a mighty sigh, he flipped his phone over on the coffee table that was filled with empty soda cans, paper plates, and a soggy red paper horse.
“My parents…” he began with and I fought the urge to snarl.
“What did they do now?” I asked.
“Nothing, well, I mean…” He huffed out a breath as he stared down at the soggy red horse.
Guess that wet nag wasn’t going to bring success, energy, and good fortune to anyone until he dried out a bit.
“They had a news conference where they explained how they were opening a camp upstate for kids. And how they wanted it to be a camp with good family values.”
I bit my tongue. Seeing him so upset over the snubs and jabs from his parents always got me mad.
I did my best not to rake them over the coals too much, but it was hard.
No matter what, they were his parents, and it was obvious he loved them.
Pity the heartless couple couldn’t love their son as deeply as he cared for them.
“Good family values meaning no mentions of queer anything the senator was quick to explain while Mom stood with a group of kids, smiling down at them like she used to smile at me. It just…it sucks and it hurts and it’s stupid to say one kind of family is better than another, you know?”
He glanced at me with true sorrow. I slid an arm around his shoulders and tugged him gently to the side, enough that his head could tip over to rest beside mine. He had to scootch down a bit to accomplish this, but we were used to making our height difference work.
“They’re too lost in their skewed beliefs to see that love is what makes a family,” I whispered as the next song was a radically wild shift from disco to Black Sabbath. Whoever made this playlist had picked some eclectic tunes.
“I know, I know, I shouldn’t let it get to me, but man, it’s hard when they don’t even mention me anymore.
Like I just fell into a fucking hole in space.
Now they’re posing with better kids, and it’s just…
” He cleared his throat a few times. “I’m ruining our party vibe with my stupid parental units bullshit. ”
“Hey.” I tugged his ear and got a dismal snort. “You are not ruining the party. It’s cooking along fine, and no one is going to give you any shit for being upset over your parents. Family can be really difficult at times.”
“Not yours.” He sat up quickly. “Yours is the best.”
“Well, they’re pretty cool, but there are times. You’ve been here enough to witness some of the grandpa and Archie moments already.”
“Yeah, but those are just petty things that blow up and then go away. Not putting his soap back in the rack so it gets wet and slimy is normal stuff. Him leaving his support hose lying around or me forgetting to put water in the dishes soaking in the sink…that’s the stuff all families pick about.
He’s so accepting of you being gay, of me sleeping in your bed almost every night…
can you imagine my father letting us crash in the same bed in his house? ”
No. No, I could not ever see that. And it struck me that Phil did not call the mansion he grew up in his house anymore. It was always his parents’ home. That was heartbreaking on so many levels.
“Maybe someday something will happen that will open their eyes to what an amazing man and son you are,” I offered and got a flimsy smile and nod. “Until then, you always have us.”
“I love that about us.” We shared a tender kiss with all kinds of promise.
“Oh, there you lads are!” Reggie shouted as he neared.
“I’ve been doing my utmost to teach Caleb a simple three step, but the man is simply incapable of picking it up.
Honestly, you’d think that horse had trod on his toes instead of cracking him in the bonce.
” He sat down on the wet horse and then crossed one long, lean leg over the other.
“You two have faces like a wet weekend. Surely you can find something to enjoy about our little fete. I say you leave your down in the gills looks here on the settee and come join us. We are desperate to form a line dance! I suggested a minuet. It’s quite simple.
Two circles and a few bows, right hand up, left hand up. Tut, tut, there you go.”
“Is Reggie here?” Phil asked as I stared ahead at a Brit that only I could see. I bobbed my head. “What’s up?”
“He wants us to join them in a dance. He’s talking about a minuet.”
“Oh, I saw them dancing that in a movie with Alan Rickman once. They’re done in circles and not lines, though, right?”
I motioned to Phil as I gave Reg an arched brow.
The marquis sniffed. “Technically, yes, it is not a line but a circle, and it’s ever so much fun. And we have several couples!”
“Why don’t we do that country line dance?” Phil asked, his melancholy lifting as he got to his feet. “I can do it! You just kind of stomp your feet and slap your heel!”
“A what now? Slap your heel? Is this a dance or a manner of knocking horse manure from one’s boots?
!” Reggie asked, aghast, but Phil and I were already on our feet.
“Oh surely we can find a more dignified dance? A reel perhaps? Or one of those charming American country dances minus slapping one’s heel with one’s gloved hand. ”
“Nope, sorry, we’re shit-kicking it,” I yelled back as Phil and I ran to the biggest clear area of the store, the space in front of the register.
If clomping about brought a smile to my boyfriend’s handsome face, then I’d be king of the shit kickers.
I texted Tray to join us, and he and Roxie appeared a moment later, glad to be out of the cold.
Bet the neighbors were glad they were off the fire escape and taking their damn firecrackers with them.
“We need something country that we can line dance to!”
“On it,” Tray yelled, slid behind the register, and cut the Captain & Tennille song short to cue up a classic.
“Okay, everyone, line up!” Phil shouted, his mood now lighter.
That was one thing about my man: he felt things deeply but didn’t seem to linger in the darker moods we all experienced now and then.
Detective Kobu and his girl rushed over, and so did Roxie to pair up with Tray.
The spirits lingered on the outside, watching, commenting to themselves, as Grandpa and Monique joined us, giggling like school kids.
“Hit it!” Phil shouted. “Achy Breaky Heart” blared out of the speaker jack Tray’s phone rested in.
A hoot from Detective Kobu made us all laugh.
Not one of us knew the correct steps, but we did our best. Even with his cane, Grandpa cut a mean rug.
Phil slapped the shit out of his heels, Caleb and Eloise clapped along, and Reggie floated up and down the line commenting on how provincial the song was even though it was rather catchy.
It might not have been a traditional New Year’s party, but it was ours and it was unique and filled with love. And really, that’s the most important thing for any family.