Part 19 (1/2)
”That would be pretty hard,” I replied softly.
We hugged for so long out there in the cold, I wondered if any of the cars waiting for their commuting husbands and wives noticed, or made remarks about us.
Me and Uncle Alex had an outdoor party the following Sat.u.r.day, and it was a gigantic success.
I invited Lawrence and his family (but they didn't come, as Unc predicted); Mister Granger, who couldn't go; Zane, who asked Farrah to be his date (and arranged for them to spend the night with us ”since they lived so far away”!); and Doctor Clive, whose radio gal companion stunned us all by wearing a floor-length parka and a tight nylon skating dress, which showed off her s.e.xy young body. Brennan invited his parents and all our baseball friends, most of whom brought dates I didnt recognize. And Uncle Alex invited some tough-looking Israeli woman, who was his agent or something. She out-skated everyone, except Doctor C's radio gal. Unc found some caterers willing to do an outdoor spread prepared to withstand the winter elements, with cuisine featuring the very finest in ballpark eats: thick kosher hot dogs, beer-soaked bratwursts, giant pretzels, snow cones (with a number of tasty liqueurs on hand for flavoring with a kick), freshly-fried nachos, drumsticks, and, of course, a giant trail mix made up of Cracker Jack, unsh.e.l.led peanuts, and over-salted cheese popcorn.
In little more than an hour, the food was cleaned out. Zane and Farrah stayed close to me, and were much more fun than I thought they'd be. The baseball gang hogged the well-lit end of the rink, playing a rough-and-tumble version of hockey without sticks or skates. Doctor C and the Radio Gal (how's that for a short story t.i.tle?) carried on very romantically in our wrought-iron glider, watching the action on the ice, while the Israeli and George crossed swords over international politics. Doris and Uncle Alex were in some kind of drinking contest in the kitchen. I was afraid to see who was winning.
Brennan was happy to play bartender.
Everybody seemed to love the Viennese waltzes, polkas, and marches I taped for the party. I had thought about keeping a few good dance or sing-along songs handy, but there was such diversity in the age of our guests, I decided to keep it cla.s.sical. The ambience of the Strauss family's compositions alone, combined with the ice rink, the Christmas lights in the trees, the baseball food (especially the snow cones), and the company created a wonderful atmosphere that left everybody giddy.
And Uncle Alex had been here less than two weeks, I thought...!
Doctor C and his gorgeous date came up to me as I sat next to Brennan at the rented bar. ”Young man, we'd like to have a skate on that rink of yours. What do you suggest for a group round-a-bout?”
”I have just the song, ready to go.”
We cleared the remainder of the baseball thugs off of the ice. Most of them had drifted off to their cars to light up or have s.e.x with their dates. The others were too drunk to play on the ice with. I put in the new 8-track, and turned up the volume loud enough to convince the neighbors the Austrian Army was pa.s.sing through.
The Radetsky March trumpeted forward. Doctor C and the Radio Gal began waltzing around the ice holding each other close. Zane and Farrah skated up to Brennan and me and took our hands. Neither of us was wearing skates, but it didn't matter. I couldn't skate, anyway. The four of us twirled around in a circle as we wound our way behind the romantics, pus.h.i.+ng and pulling on each other's hands to keep us going, while Uncle Alex got everyone else to start clapping and stomping their feet in time with the Vienna Philharmonic, New Year's Eve Concert-style.
The march ended far too soon. Everyone demanded another. I waved them off and waited for the next song to start. My eyes fused with Brennan's. Others saw this.
Zane joked we should dance together. ”Well,” I said? Brennan blushed as red as a Russian flag. Ozzie, our favorite catcher, echoed Zane. Brennan gave him the finger as I saw a hint of tension in both George and Uncle Alex's eyes. Doctor C's date smiled at both of us and nodded for us to do so, the world be d.a.m.ned.
I grabbed Brennan's hand and swung him out toward the middle of the ice as Lumbye's goofy Champagne Galop burst out of the speakers. We spun around dizzily, keeping the other one from falling, and began a playful half-chase, half-silly walk ballet around the rink to everyone's cheery encouragement, with either our hands or arms locked together the whole while.
Chaplin would have been proud. Or embarra.s.sed.
George took Doris home before she tried to start a fight.
Doctor C and his companion retired to the broadcast booth of love.
Uncle Alex and his agent went to her place to continue their negotiations.
Brennan waited for me in his half of my pajamas as I turned off the lights downstairs and locked up.
Farrah and Zane emerged from Dad's master bathroom. They were still dripping wet from a shower, inside matching robes somebody had bought for Mom and Dad years ago, who had never wore them. Their faces were flushed and happy. Farrah's dainty features glowed in Zane's company. She thanked me for inviting them both, and kissed me softly in the center of my cheek. Zane waited for her to retire behind Mom's old bedroom door to give me a quick, self-conscious hug.
”I'm glad we're friends, now, Hitman.”
Was that the hundredth time hed said that since New Years? ”Me, too, Zane.”
I had scarcely closed my bedroom door when Brennan, wearing my itchy pajama bottoms, put his arms around me and began one of our perfect hugs. We hugged our tartans off and were about to devour the other until I heard a related commotion come from Mom's room.
”Listen,” I whispered, pointing to my door. We knelt down and opened the door a crack. Zane had become possessed by his cowboy namesake's spirit as he and Farrah made noisy, almost hilarious whoopee.
”Man, is that rude! We should pound on their door and scare them. Maybe Zane would fire off, then!”
I groped Brennan to the floor before lying down across his warm stomach. ”I've got a better idea. Let's make more noise than they are.”
Our bodies met and ran off together.
”I loved dancing with you earlier.”
”I'd hardly call that dancing, Brennan.”
”What a great party. Thanks for inviting me.” I exhaled melodramatically. Brennan kissed my hand in reply. ”Thanks for being my date.” He sat up suddenly. ”Hey! Let's go to the prom together!”
”No.” I hoped that was a snow cone talking.
”I love you,” he whispered.
”I still won't go, Brennan.”
”Okay.” He lay back down and curled up in my arms. ”We can argue about it later.”
Winter hung on with bitter intransigence.
It was less than two weeks before Opening Day, and the temperature hadn't broken the forty-degree mark once that year. It rained or sleeted or snowed every other day, the wind never stopped, and I couldn't remember the last time I saw either the sun or the moon.
Me and Brennan played catch in the middle of the muddy park field every afternoon. Ozzie, from the old team, sometimes joined us. He was the best catch out of us all. Brennan had the best throw. n.o.body wanted to pitch to me. They hated running to the end of the park to retrieve the b.a.l.l.s I had hit.
The two of us were about to go back to my house for dinner with Uncle Alex when an early model T-Bird, the kind you could land a jet on the hood, cut us off. Felix parked badly against the curbside that lined our gra.s.sy knoll and hopped out of the pimp-mobile like he was somebody's boy wonder.
What is it with short guys and their need to drive the biggest cars they can lay their hands on?
Brennan stood beside me, instinctively showing his solidarity, and keeping close, in case I went to break something else on Felix's face.
I kept my expression and tone plain, even though my stomach, already hungry for dinner, began to knot up as Felix approached us with his spiritual tail between his legs.