Charlotte emerged from the living room nest, wearing a gray ribbed tank top -- conspicuously with no attempt at a bra -- and black martial arts pants, cinched at her hips. Her russet hair had the sort of effortless artful dishevelment that Toni guessed would annoy her fiance's ex to have pointed out. Charlotte had to always keep up her pretense that she could not possibly care less about how she looked. This was betrayed somewhat by Charlotte having the sort of body one maintained only through intensive training when no one was looking (or no one who would not soon be her sparring partner). It was nothing Toni would want for herself, but her own bisexuality was not averse to being in its presence.
When Charlotte entered the kitchen, it was with an almost embarrassed nod to Toni, as though surprised to not be alone in the home, followed by an immediate occupation of the refrigerator. It hid her face from view and allowed Charlotte to entertain herself by monologuing about the difficulty of there being so much food that selecting just one thing was a Herculean trial.
In less time than seemed possible, she had all but deboned the remains of the chicken from the rehearsal dinner, cut it to shreds, and placed it beside onions, peppers, and mushroom. She pointed a keen knife at Nathaniel, not in threat but request, and he took up the call to dice these into suitable chunks for Spanish omelet. It seemed that he reduced these to a palatable size in about the time it had taken him to pour Toni a bowl of cereal.
Alex, Charlotte's date to the wedding and copilot on this trip (as well, Toni supposed, as her enthusiastic sex partner, though the two of them had either been polite or quiet the last two nights), emerged next. Alex was far less artful with realistic bedhead, and now absent pillow folds lightly creased into her right cheek. This was countered by her brazen by her brazenness in loping into the kitchen in only a pair of harem pants, her bare torso lightly dusted in glitter from last night's festivities. It was, to Toni, a womanlier body than Charlotte's, with softness and divots, a few pale dots of chickenpox scars, and the geometric tracing of a childhood scrape on her left hip.
Toni, not willing to be fazed by the nudity of her guests, studied the laminar flow of Alex's pants.
"Those the belly dancer's?" Toni asked.
Nathaniel looked over with no more curiosity than he might pay a deer who had ventured close. Yes, Alex's nudity provoked interest, but it didn't stir so much in him that he would be less than reserved about it.
Charlotte popped her head over the refrigerator door, eyed her partner with exaggerated lust, and pretended shock. "How dare you sully poor Toni's eyes with your fabulous tits? And on her *wedding* day!"
Alex, inoculated against her friend's enjoyment of drama, stated, "They belonged to one of the belly dancers from last night, yes. I tried them on, found them comfortable, and no one asked for them back. I assume they are mine now."
The burlesque performers that Alex had invited over had been her wedding gift to them, a sort of last-minute bachelor party since Jason was too well-meaning to have had a proper one of his own. Toni wasn't put off by this -- her wedding weekend might as well have involved sequined pasties and ironic pastiches -- but wished that she had robbed one of the dancers for their ensembles if they were up for grabs. Bridal orders. She should be gifted comfortable yet oddly sensual pants, though she thought better of telling Alex this. There was every possibility that Alex would completely disrobe without another word. Almost without meaning, Toni's eyes skimmed the gossamer fluff of the pants for evidence that Alex wore panties now, coming away quite certain that she did not. Toni wasn't sure that she could as easily overlook full-frontal nudity before her cereal was digested, though Nathaniel might have appreciated discovering it himself.
Charlotte ordered Alex back into the living room to clean up before they had company -- which was not supposed to be for hours. Toni could not help knowing that it would come far too soon. A wedding was not the sort of event where people were inclined to punctuality, coming far too early or too late -- some both at once.
A moment after Alex gave Charlotte the most servile and sarcastic curtesy that Toni had ever had the pleasure to witness, Nathaniel volunteered to help with the cleaning. He had been an enthusiastic participant in the burlesque. He knew better than Toni precisely what the living room looked like and how its resolution was undoubtedly a team effort.
Charlotte gave an almost parental grunt of assent to Nathaniel, returning to her self-appointed culinary duties. "Not many a man I would trust with my naked woman," she confided sidelong to Toni. "That Nathaniel is a good egg." She lifted an actual egg from a carton. "Also, she can do as she pleases and doesn't need me to fight her battles. And is a lesbian."
"I certainly don't, and I certainly am. Make me breakfast, wench," Alex called back.
Charlotte did not ask permission to do as she wished in this kitchen, two degrees borrowed. Toni enjoyed watching her doing as she pleased. There was a relaxing quality to the movements of this confident interloper. It was as though Charlotte were always putting on a one-woman vaudeville routine, the audience irrelevant but appreciated if she did not have to admit this.
Toni's fiance clopped down the stairs, his footfalls far more significant than his weight should allow. He was not precisely thin but maintained a below-average weight purely because he seemed to be driven by some inner need to never stop moving some part of his body. It was a wonder he had been able to give her even a few more minutes of his sleep while she had breakfast with Nathaniel.
Jason landed on the first floor with a hop, excitement infusing his every step. The drizzle abated enough to shine a sunbeam on his precious bright face, though clouded over a moment later.
"Am I beautiful enough to be your groom, or must I sleep more?" Jason asked.
She put her hand on his chin, shifting his face from side to side.
"I'm sure we can do something with your" -- she gestured vaguely -- "entire head," she teased. "Well, the wedding is in a few hours. You'll have to do."
He kissed her atop her head, but a sniff raised his eyebrow and turned his head.
Charlotte slid a plate across the table at him without a word, an omelet Toni knew without asking that Charlotte had made for Jason. This dish had been something that Charlotte knew he would savor; knew from mornings she had woken beside him. To ask if he wanted this would almost call attention to this fact, which Toni realized had been the source of Charlotte's embarrassment this morning.
He paused a moment, looking almost in apology at Toni.
"I don't take offense to you eating Charlotte's cooking," Toni said, even if she may have felt a twinge at the thinking behind it.
Charlotte assumed that she was, in some small way, a threat to Jason's relationship still. Jason had loved Charlotte intensely for years and, since then, had reconciled that he simply loved her -- not with the burning passion of their torrid affair, but the indelible carving of the waves on stones.
Charlotte had ended their engagement because she was having sex with several women -- including the presumptive caterer for their wedding. She was a committed lesbian and polyamorous, she had confessed through tears one morning, five years ago. It did not seem that Charlotte could commit to much else in the years since. For Jason's affections -- though Toni was keenly aware that Charlotte loved him back in an obnoxious little sister way -- Charlotte was well out of the running.
Charlotte did not have it in her to be more than a charming pest and, Toni supposed, a welcomed guest -- even if she *had* invited herself to stay over. It wasn't as though they didn't have the room this weekend, and, like her cooking had proven, she did know how to sprinkle unusual and pleasing spices.
Charlotte fell into no prescribed role in Toni's Hero's Quest. She was no antagonist. To the best of her ability, Charlotte would behave herself and do little that would harm today. Not because Charlotte had any shame. Toni assumed this woman prided herself on having purged shame from her emotional repertoire, at least the expression that she showed the world. It was not even that Charlotte feared that Amy might eviscerate her for stepping out of line. No, it was that Charlotte loved Jason so entirely, loved him more than she would ever again love a man. Toni did not know that Charlotte would ever be in a serious relationship -- Alex seemed like a fancy, smitten though Charlotte plainly was. Charlotte again being engaged bordered on the comical. Jason would remain a singular person in her life, her only fiance, her final ex-boyfriend.
Charlotte tossed an egg, breaking it on the edge of the metal spatula, then waggled her eyebrows in a way that would make Groucho Marx proud. Toni considered that Charlotte might be the comic relief. If this were not the sort of story where Charlotte would be slain by the archvillain to give the heroes motivation -- and a country wedding did seem like a poor setting for an archvillain -- Toni could not begrudge someone filling that role.
Alex returned soon after, wearing jeans and a form-fitting vest, sitting at the table. She playfully snapped her fingers, for which Charlotte called her a bitch but dropped a plate with a perfectly made omelet. Alex seemed poised to say something more but put a sliver of the omelet in her mouth. The deliciousness seemed to better occupy her tongue.
Charlotte looked over at Toni with horror. "My God, my manners! Would you like an omelet?"
"Full of cereal and a banana," said Toni, though she did the moment she declined, want one but not enough to say so.
Jason slid half of his food her way. "It's my wedding day. Best I do not get laden with eggs and cheese."
Toni smiled, having picked a good man to be her husband. It was, beyond her expectations, one of the best breakfasts she had in her life.
Nathaniel stepped back in, a look on his face that said that the cleaning had barely begun.
"Did you ogle my naked woman?" Charlotte asked with a grin.
Jason looked baffled. "There was nudity?" He turned to Alex. "You were naked?"
"I have," she confided, leaning in, "been naked in my life."
"Born that way," added Charlotte, taking a seat between them, "and will die that way if I have any say in the matter."
"Did you just threaten to kill Alex?" Jason asked. "Also, back to the point, why was Nathaniel in a position to ogle Alex?" His concern spoke not of a desire to see Alex naked but was the cousin to the childhood worry that adults waited until the kids were in bed before throwing a party.
"Everyone but you ogled Alex," Toni confided. "Don't worry about it."
"I worry about it," Jason said. "I worry very much."
Thomm Quackenbush is an author and teacher in the Hudson Valley. He has published four novels in his Night's Dream series (We Shadows, Danse Macabre, Artificial Gods, and Flies to Wanton Boys). He has sold jewelry in Victorian England, confused children as a mad scientist, filed away more books than anyone has ever read, and tried to inspire the learning disabled, gifted, and adjudicated. He can cross one eye, raise one eyebrow, and once accidentally groped a ghost. When not writing, he can be found biking, hiking the Adirondacks, grazing on snacks at art openings, and keeping a straight face when listening to people tell him they are in touch with 164 species of interstellar beings.
