T Novan - Exposure Season 4

Kels and I join my brothers at their table. Most of them have, by now, removed their ties and taken off their jackets. The majority of the guests have left, and only the core family remains. Mama is holding court with the Kitchen Conspiracy over at another table, but I want Kels with me. I don’t want to share her with my sisters, right now. I pull Kels down onto my lap and wrap my arms around her, nuzzling against her soft body.

"How goes the war?" I ask.

Robie sighs and takes a long drink from the bottle of beer in front of him. "It’s hard work being witty and charming all night."

"Especially for you." Luc winks.

"Yeah, yeah. At least, I was out there drumming up support for the Senator."

"It’s not good to go calling me that before I win the election."

Kels reaches out and fixes Gerrard’s lapel which has somehow managed to fold over wrong. "You decided to run?"

"I don’t know how I can turn it down gracefully at this point."

T-Jean snorts and rolls his eyes. "Right, older brother, you’re only doing this to be polite. Not an ambitious bone in your body. Nope. Not a one."

"To civic-mindedness," Robie toasts.

All of us hoist glasses.

Gerrard has the good grace to blush. "All right, fine. Of course, I want to run and win." He looks over at Katherine for a long moment. "I only hope the rest of the family doesn’t mind."

I’m surprised Gerrard would consider doing anything like this without talking extensively to Katherine. It seems like a huge step to undertake without spousal support. Given that Gerrard’s always been my mentor in this area, I am surprised. "She didn’t agree to it?"

"Harper Lee! Bon Dieu! Naturally, Katherine and I, and the kids, talked about it. They all agreed to let me try to win. Naturally, Joseph thinks he’ll be able to use my position to pick up girls." He smiles, knowing his eldest is a bit too much like himself at that age some days. "I just don’t want to walk into this with the wrong idea. It’s a lot of work, even at the state level. Gonna need to call upon my family to help out."

"Sure enough," Luc agrees amiably. "As long as we don’t have to build another deck off your house. My back hurts for weeks after last summer."

"Poor baby," T-Jean makes kissing noises in Luc’s direction.

"Maybe we can do a documentary about your campaign," Kels offers. "The Man From the Garden District." We all laugh. "Doesn’t quite have the right ring to it, does it?"

"Well," Robie suggests, "if it were Brian running for office, it’d be perfect." He ducks as Gerrard flings a cloth napkin his way.

"It doesn’t really make me sound like a man of the people, Kels," Gerrard admits. "Perhaps we can come up with something better."

"How about we name our house something sad like ‘Squalor?’ Then you could be ‘The Man From Squalor.’" Robie is trying to be funny. Really, he is.

Gerrard shakes his head. "Tell you what, we can do it, if you are the one to tell Mama that her beloved house is named that."

"Or we could go with ‘Elect Judge Gerrard.’"

"I thought so."

We all make clucking noises. No one wants to mess with Mama and her house.

I take my turn in front of the camera and try hard to remember this is family, not work.

"I’m not even sure where to start. I know that ‘thank you’ isn’t enough. You’ve both given me so much in such a short time. I’m always overwhelmed at your generosity and the love that seems so endless for all of your children.

"Never once have you ever made any of the spouses feel any less important in your lives than your own flesh and blood. For me, you’ve opened up a whole new world, for which I will be eternally grateful. You’ve given me the things I never thought I would have. And you opened your home and your hearts to me as if you had known me forever.

"I celebrate this day with you, my only regret being that I wasn’t around earlier, for your thirtieth. But, rest assured, I’ll be here for the rest, and I hope that when you are celebrating your seventy-fifth anniversary, we’re all surrounded by grandchildren and great-grandchildren."

"The only thing left to say is I love you both."

I walk over to the band leader and speak to him for a moment. He’s tired, I can tell. His shirt is damp with sweat, and his group have the same slightly rumpled appearance. We’re a family that likes music and likes to dance. I don’t think they expected to work quite so long and hard tonight. I slip the leader a hundred dollar tip and am rewarded with one last song.

"Get your girls, brothers," I admonish the boys, as I take Kels’ hand and lead her back to the dance floor. Forty years from now, when we’re dancing on this same floor, I’ll look around at all our kids and grandkids, and realize that we made decisions tonight that made a difference. And here I thought I was merely going to a party.

The lead singer begins singing the melody. His voice rough with the sound of whiskey and cigarettes and longing. I asked for an old Sammy Cahn tune. It seemed appropriate.

"It's the last dance, we've come to the last dance.

"They're dimming the lights down, they're hoping we'll go.

"It's obvious they're aware of us, the pair of us, alone on the floor.

"Still I want to hold you like this forever and more.

"It the last song, they're playing the last song.

"The orchestra's yawning, they're sleepy I know.

"They're wondering just when will we leave, but till we leave, keep holding me tight,

"Through the last dance, each beat of the last dance.

"Save me the first dance in your dreams tonight."

"I remember singing." It’s hard to try to think of a first time you remember your parents, I realize when Jims asks me the question. I also realize how much I enjoy producing and how I never wanted to be the talent in front of the camera.

"Mama was always singing around the house. She loved show tunes, and I think all us kids know more Broadway musicals than the Gay Men’s Choir. Mama sang because she was happy. We all were happy.

"I remember some nights waking up and sneaking downstairs. Most often, I was going for a snack, especially if there was any dessert left at dinner. All us kids would be sneaking down, in fact. Sometimes there’d nearly be a collision in the kitchen from all the activity.

"A few times, I’d hear Papa singing to Mama. I’d creep around and look out on the back porch and there they’d be, dancing and singing together.

"That’s why I sing to Kels all the time. Why I sing to Brennan and Collin. It reminds me of how well loved I was — and still am."

Home and tired, but changed into comfortable sweats, I’m taking time to be with our babies while Harper showers and gets ready for bed. All three of us are sprawled on the bed, laughing and playing. Of course, they should already be asleep, but keeping them up a bit later will mean there is less chance of them interrupting my playtime with their Mama.

I laugh when Brennan’s head slips forward and she snuffles into the comforter, then sneezes. She still hasn’t learned that doing things like that will make her sneeze. Collin is content to lay on his back and play with his feet, watching the bathroom door. He’s waiting for his Mama. He knows where she is.

"So, my little ones." I tug on Brennan’s foot and she laughs. Her face reminds me of a cherub. "What would you say to a little brother or sister?"

Brennan seems okay with the idea, but Collin opines with a loud raspberry.

"Ooo, you simply don’t want to share your Mama, you jealous thing, you." I tickle his tummy and he curls his hand around mine, trying to pull it to his mouth to chew on it. "I hate to break this to you, but your Mama wants to have a baby. So, sometime, not too far off, I would imagine you’re going to have a little brother or sister."