“Ain’t no food,” Ty muttered.
Zelda snatched a bowl of pretzels from an adjoining table. “Fully catered. I might have some SC chocolate in my purse if I get a smile out of you.”
Zelda clearly had had a few before coming, plus the drink alone where Puppy profusely apologized for his insensitivity. Zelda tickled Ty’s chin and his lips parted grudgingly.
“See how we Negroes always makes the white folks happy? Now on to the new couple.”
Tradition insisted the prospective best person throw the engaged couple a formal toast within twenty-four hours, so they got used to the notion straight away, like breaking in a pair of shoes.
An older couple paused by the table to shake Mooshie’s hand; autographs and photographs had been long banned as part of the Anti-Narcissism Act.
“To my new friend Dara.” Zelda and Mooshie clinked glasses. “And my old friend Puppy.” They clinked glasses; Mooshie carefully watched Zelda’s cloudy expression. “And to our new friends who are like old friends, Mick and Ty.”
A few tables listened in.
“Let their love transcend,” Zelda said, her hand shaking slightly as she recited Grandma’s Love Pledge. “Let their love be as one. Let their love light themselves and let their love light all of us.” She stood. “To Dara and Puppy.”
“To Dara and Puppy,” the bar shouted, applauding.
Zelda poked the blank Puppy. “Your turn.”
He couldn’t remember the words. He knew he’d said them to Annette, otherwise they wouldn’t have had all those wondrous years together.
Mooshie held up her glass and he joined her, wobbling to his feet. This is Mooshie Lopez I’m engaged to. Fake or not. Dead or alive.
“Let me help my fiancé. His mouth is frozen with love.” She said to the packed room. “I was married once before.” Actually three times. Paula the gymnast with a short leg. Jen the writer, who wrote poetic crap. And after she’d retired, briefly to Jeff, the burly restaurant owner. Puppy despised those names.
“To my beloved. Who I love and know loves me.” Mooshie waited; Puppy just stared stupidly. “Repeat, my shy guy.”
The bar cracked up.
“To my beloved. Who I love and know loves me,” he repeated.
“We stand together, to serve each other and The Family.”
“We stand together, to serve each other and The Family.”
“May our fortune be our love.”
“May our fortune be our love.” Puppy grinned stupidly.
His fiancé kissed him tenderly on the lips. He nearly fainted.
The patrons shouted, “May their fortune be our love.”
Mooshie winked, grinning. “And to show my love to my love, I want to sing a song that from way before any of us were born, from a group called The Four Seasons.”
In the corner, the pianist tinkled the keys and the drummer picked up the slow beat. Jimmy grinned and tossed her the mike. Mooshie sang My Eyes Adored You. The music stopped and Mooshie nestled on his lap, in his arms, kissing him fervently; his knees buckled, sitting down. The bar went nuts.
• • • •
THE BEEPING IN the medicine cabinet startled Zelda; she nearly swallowed her toothbrush. Damn, she muttered. The beeping continued, not growing louder, just with that same disappointed haughtiness that she needed a reminder at all.
Zelda peered at the date. Okay, she said to the little red box with the smiling beeping light which all women in America had. I forgot by two weeks, she held up a couple fingers, dropping her sticky toothbrush back into the Frida Fried Dumplings oral hygiene cup Puppy bought her to celebrate Grandma’s birthday last year. Zelda rummaged under the sink for the monthly pregnancy test kit, squatted on the toilet and peed into the cup.
She laid the purple receptacle on the sink and returned to the kitchen, pouring coffee and finishing off a raspberry donut while she drone-dazed into the vidnews. Two stinky looking teenagers in North Carolina talked about their scientific breakthrough in purifying water.
So nice we have geniuses to make up for the rest of us, Zelda thought, tugging the bakery box out of the fridge and pondering which of the three remaining powdered donuts had the cream filling. She bit into the middle one and apple spurted onto her chin. Sorry, little guy, it’s your turn. But don’t think you other two are off the hook. I said I wanted cream filled and that is what Zelda will have.
Oh no, fat girl with the double chin, save us, pleaded the chunky donut to the left.
Don’t listen to him, beautiful girl, beseeched the donut guy hugging the right side of the box. He’s tricking you. Eat him and save me so we can live in eternal togetherness like Puppy and Mooshie.
Zelda dropped the box onto her lap, frowning at the other voice in the apartment not coming from her head.
“Congratulations. You’re going to be a mother.”
Accusing the vidnews, Zelda hoped it was an advert for baby powder or baby food or some gross product. Nope, just Grandma and some kids singing the stupid locomotion song.
“Congratulations. You’re going to be a mother.”
Zelda dropped the donuts and hurried into the bathroom. The cup was jiggling side to side joyfully.
“Congratulations. You’re going to be a mother.”
She tried choking the cup, but it kept congratulating her. Zelda shoved it under the sink and hid behind the shower curtain until the damn thing shut up. She brought the cup into the living room and took a deep breath. The brief message danced gaily around the inside of the cup.
“Bring this cup into a Parents Benefits Center to register. We’re so happy.”
Zelda finished the last donut and stared dully at the vidnews. Grandma’s sweet voice joined her on the couch.
“Aren’t they precious?” Grandma hugged the three children squirming like puppies. “They’re the Machado triplets: Joyce, Marlene and Rita. Don’t you just love them?”
She looked directly at Zelda. “Who wouldn’t love them? Who wouldn’t want triplets?”
“Shut up,” Zelda said.
“The joys of parenting enrich everyone. Especially you.” Grandma’s eyes grew larger.
“Shut up.” Zelda pounded on the vidnews, but the protective glass bruised her hands.
“If you’re not a parent
