Authors: Terri-Lynne Defino
She took Charlie’s hand in her mittened one and squeezed it. He looked down at her with the smile that had been turning her heart upside down for many years, for many reasons. Though not always for good reasons, they’d always been born in love.
“Where to first?” Nina was already tugging her husband towards the gate. “I’m hungry. Can we eat?”
“There are a few places to choose from,” Efan said. “The restaurants, of course, but there are also all kinds of street vendors, a spaghetti dinner in the church hall at St. Mark’s, and authentic Greek over at the VFW.”
“Greek,” they all shouted at once. Efan led them through the festively crowded town decked in lights and garlands. They stopped for a mulled cider, then again to watch a pair of jugglers in drag, tossing dolls dressed in motley. It took a good hour to reach the VFW, and another half hour before they made it to the front of the line to get their food.
“Worth every second standing in line,” Gunner said, his mouth full of moussaka. “This is the best I’ve ever tasted, and I’ve eaten a lot of Greek food.”
“See the little woman serving roasted chicken?” Efan pointed to an elderly woman who looked just like every cafeteria lady Johanna had ever known. “She does it all.”
“All?” Charlie asked. “I have a hard time cooking for just me and my kids.”
“I imagine she gets some help,” Efan told them, “but you can be absolutely certain she has her hand in all of it other than slipping something into the oven, or stirring a pot.”
“Does she have a restaurant?” Emma asked.
“No. Once a year is all we get.” He leaned in. “But if I ask her nicely, she makes me something now and again.”
They ate and they talked and they made room for others still waiting for a seat. Out in the cold, fresh air after the heat of the VFW, Johanna tugged at the itchy cowl of her sweater, wishing she’d worn something underneath. Staying together was nearly impossible. Emma and Mike wanted to go to the music pavilion where a country band was twanging. Julietta and Efan headed to the poetry reading outside the bookstore. Charlie suggested the Gauntlet Thrown Shakespearean Insult Contest. Gunner and Nina joined them, but the couples got separated trying to worm through the crowd.
Charlie held tight to her hand, shielded her from elbows and hips with his body. Somehow, they made it near to the front, close enough to see the contestants battling with verse.
“You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things,” shouted a portly man dressed like Friar Tuck, complete with tonsure. An equally portly woman, dressed sensibly for the cold, shouted back, “Thou whoreson zed! Thou unnecessary letter!”
Back and forth they raged. Johanna could not have said if their insults were genuine, but there were two men and a woman judging, tablets in hand, so she assumed they were. After a few hurled insults, Friar Tuck stammered, “I shall laugh myself to death on this…this…aw, damn, on this foul-footed monstrosity?”
“Wrong.” The woman judging tapped her tablet. “Sorry, Fred. Anyone know the insult? Not you, Sandra,” she pointed to his competitor. “It goes to the crowd, first. I’ll give you a hint. It’s from
The Tempest
. Can anyone pick up the gauntlet?”
“I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster.”
Johanna glanced up at Charlie, his hand raised in the air.
“Correct! Come on up, sir. Let’s see if you can beat Sandra.”
“Charlie?” Johanna asked as he started forward.
“What? I have a mug at home.”
* * * *
For every insult Sandra flung, Charlie had one to fling back. Johanna’s heart raced. The insults got bawdier. She oohed and aahed with the crowd, pride and surprise alternating in her heart. Sandra’s drawled,
Thou mis-shapen dick
, had nearly made her spit mulled cider out her nose, but Charlie’s answering,
Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all
, had made her cheer.
“They have to be running out,” Gunner leaned in to murmur. He and Nina had made their way to her after Charlie went up on-stage.
“I don’t know,” Nina leaned close to say, “the Bard was fond of his insults. This could go on for hours.”
Sandra clapped loudly, arms raised over her head. “I have one that will end this. Ready for it?”
“Throw it at me, Sandy.” Charlie laughed. He crouched a little, motioning her in like a little boy getting ready to brawl. The woman straightened her coat dramatically, tugging at each glove before clearing her throat.
“A knave,” she said. “A rascal; an eater of broken meats; base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three suited, hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered
…
” Sandra’s brow furrowed. She cleared her throat again. “A lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson, glass-looking—no, gazing. Glass-gazing…”
“Come on Sandra,” onlookers called. “You got this.”
The woman’s jaw worked back and forth. She shook her head slowly. Finally, she threw up her hands. “Sorry, folks. I just can’t remember the rest. That’s what I get for showing off.”
“No!”
“Come on!”
“Try again!”
But the judges were raising their hands for silence. The female judge called, “Anyone in the audience want to take a shot at it?” Everyone hushed. No one stepped forward. “All right then, Mr. McCallan. It’s yours. Can you pick up the gauntlet?”
Johanna held her breath.
Charlie stood on the little raised platform. He found her eyes and smiled. “A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson, glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition.” He bowed. “King Lear.”
The gathering erupted in a riotous cheer. Charlie was swarmed from all sides, congratulated and clapped. Johanna could not hope to push her way through the crowd but neither did she lose sight of him, his auburn hair like a beacon burning there on the platform. A few moments of chaos and the judges called order, shooing people off the platform.
“Let’s give a hand to Sandra Doubleday for a great effort,” one of the male judges called, and again the cheering pounded. He handed her a second-place ribbon, holding an envelope up in the air. “Two tickets to any performance of The Shakespeare Company’s upcoming season and a backstage tour.”
More cheering, this time, polite. Sandra clutched the tickets to her breast, her face beaming. A gentleman helped her down from the platform, hugged her close, and led her into the crowd.
“And to Mr. Charles McCallan…” The other gentleman on the platform placed a blue ribbon into Charlie’s hand. “First prize, a gift certificate for Valentine’s Dinner for two at Blue Pearl, two season passes to all performances of the Company’s upcoming season.” Hands raised, he waited for the cheering to stop. “And a back-stage tour.”
Johanna whooped with the rest, pushing her way to Charlie on the platform. As she neared, he reached for her hand and pulled her up beside him.
“I had no idea you were so well-read,” she shouted over the noise.
“I’m not. I told you, I have a mug. I’ll show you when we get home.”
Tucked under his arm while he was congratulated again and again, Johanna simply basked in the moment of being where she was, with Charlie. Home, he had said, and the momentary tremor became a small but steady warmth burrowing into her chest.
“The fireworks are about to start.” Nina was suddenly there, a golden goddess with her blond braid and her white coat, white jeans and blue boots. Gunner had her hand, tugging her in the opposite direction. “Come on, Jo! Charlie!”
Like children running from a rainstorm, they all grasped hands and started through the crowd. Johanna spotted Emma and Mike eating fried dough on a corner.
“Emma, Mike, this way!”
Her sister grabbed Charlie’s free hand and they joined in the chase, dodging and shrieking their way through town. Johanna had no idea where they were going, or why they were running to get there. It just felt good. She felt free. She wanted to run like this forever.
“Here.” Gunner led them behind a brick building, to a fire escape. “We can get up on the roof.”
“Are you crazy?” Emma panted. “We’ll get in trouble.”
“We’re adults.” Gunner laughed, pulling the ladder down. “Not a bunch of kids the cops’ll hassle. Come on, Emma. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“What about Julietta and Efan?” Johanna looked over her shoulder, as if they’d appear.
“Up first.” Nina was already climbing behind her husband. “We’ll call her from the roof.”
The first whistled rocket lit the sky as Johanna legged-up over the ledge. Charlie was next, catching her from behind and holding her against his chest. They gazed skyward together, watching the sparkles and laughing when the boom hit the pit of their stomachs.
“She’s not picking up,” Emma said during a lull. “Does anyone have Efan’s number?”
“I do.” Gunner pulled out his phone. “Hey, Efan. We’re up on the roof of the brick building—yeah, that’s the one. I know,” he laughed, “but we’ll be careful. Guess you won’t be joining us up here then, eh, you dawg?” Another laugh. Gunner hung up the phone, waggled his eyebrows. “He says he and Julietta are heading back to Bitterly as soon as the clock strikes midnight. They’ll stay on the ground.”
Ten minutes until midnight. Another round of fireworks lit up the sky. Johanna rested back against Charlie’s chest, warm and comfortable in his arms and so happy she could not stop smiling. Five minutes to midnight. A band struck up Auld Lang Syne. People started singing. Nina and Gunner, Emma and Mike did too.
Johanna turned in Charlie’s arms and kissed his mouth, opened to sing. He gathered her to him. The world fell away. Only they existed, only this kiss no longer enough. Anticipation was sweet, but Johanna’s was more than twenty years waiting. She wanted more. She wanted it always.
Somewhere, far away in some other world, a thousand booms crackled into being. Another sky over another town lit up in sparkled, explosive light.
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One!
“Happy New Year!”
The chorus on the roof brought Johanna back to Great Barrington, Massachusetts. Charlie still held her in his arms, his eyes holding hers. Johanna pulled her mitten off with her teeth, reached up to touch his face. His beard was soft but thick. She rubbed warm fingers through it. Words, three of them, tried to get past the emotion, the fear, the joy. Words he waited to hear. Words she wanted to say. Johanna opened her mouth, but they did not escape. Charlie kissed her again and she imagined he could taste them on her tongue.
“Hey, There’s Julietta.” Nina leaned over the roof wall, waving an arm over her head and calling to their sister. Emma, Mike and Gunner joined her. Johanna tugged at Charlie’s beard, took his hand and hauled him to the edge. Below, Julietta and Efan were looking up, waving furiously.
* * * *
Piled into the car again, this time minus Julietta, they all stayed contentedly quiet. Johanna tucked herself into the crook of Charlie’s shoulder, her head resting there. Nina and Gunner held hands across the narrow aisle between captain’s chairs. Mike’s hand rested on Emma’s shoulder, the two of them more at ease with one another than Johanna had seen them since her arrival before Christmas.
It took a while to get out of the parking lot, out of town. Though First Night festivities would continue for several hours yet, most seemed to have the same idea they did—go home. Go to bed. Though Johanna had no intention of sleeping. Charlotte watched the kids at Emma’s house. Will was sleeping at his friend’s. When Emma dropped Charlie off at his place, she would simply get out of the car and go with him inside. The notion set her skin to tingling, her body to aching.
Battling slumber, Johanna found her seventeen-year -old self behind her lids. Charlie, and the woods, and the old quilted blanket they used to make out on. His face was so clear, and with the benefit of hindsight, the fear mingled into the desire was clear too. Then, it had frightened her. He had frightened her. Then, she had run away. Then, she had been a child.
“What’s going on up there?”
Emma’s voice sounded out of place in the contented silence. Johanna blinked back to awake to see a long, dark stretch of road ahead, and a pair of hazards blinking red flashes in the snow.
“Looks like a car went off the road,” Mike said. “I’ll call 911. Aw, crap.”
“What?” Gunner asked.
“No coverage. You?”
They all checked their phones. Dead zone. Not uncommon in the mountains, even for smartphones. Emma pulled over to the shoulder, the tires spinning, the van sliding precariously.
“Black ice,” she said. “Thank goodness there are no trees around.”
Johanna leaned forward. Mike was saying “I’ll go. You guys stay here,” as realization dawned, as Mike opened his door, as the silence in the van became screaming from the Audi that had slid off the road, as the voice screaming became Julietta’s.
“Oh, my God.” All three women spoke at once, leapt from the van as one entity homed in on a target. Nina pounded on the driver’s side door while Johanna and Emma tried to open the passengers’.
“Unlock it,” Nina yelled. The locks clicked. Johanna yanked open the door.
“Daddy, Daddy. Daddy, Daddy,” Julietta screamed, her voice raw and raspy.
“Jules,” Johanna gathered her sister into her arms, pulled her from the car and onto the cold and icy pavement. “Julietta, it’s me. Johanna.”
Julietta screamed on. Emma and Nina pulled both sisters into a clutch, like oyster shells around a pearl.
“I don’t know what happened,” Efan was saying. “We hit a patch of ice and went off the road, but that’s all. She started screaming. I didn’t know what to do. My phone wouldn’t work.”
“Mike,” Gunner said. “Take Efan in the van and go back until you get cell coverage. Get an ambulance.”