by Jeff Vrolyks
“Are you’re sure?” Mike said. “You’re going to propose to Holly?”
“Of course. Do you really have to ask?”
“I know, man. I know how much you love her. It’s just that eight months stuck together in close-quarters can be rough on a relationship. I’m sure you both know everything about each other by now, the good the bad and the ugly.”
“Yeah, you can say that again. Every time she hiccups she burps. After she eats food with hot sauce or pepper she applies Chapstick a few dozen times over the next couple hours. When she files her toe nails she sings, usually Elvis songs, and her voice is no better than mine.”
Mike smiled. “This is good, brother. This is really good.”
“It’s not all good. She gets congested when she cries, causing her to snore.”
“Bah, that’s not a big deal.”
“Yeah it is. It breaks my heart, Mike. She’s been snoring almost every night since we’ve been here. Playing Scrabble she had the tiles to spell Nawien and she started bawling. She quit the game and went in the tent. She gets upset when I bring her up.”
“Gah, that sucks. She must feel like shit, huh?”
“Like you couldn’t imagine. So how’s Pea Willy doing?”
Mike shook his head gravely.
“No improvement?”
“Ali calls him a lot. Usually it’s the machine picking up, but sometimes he’ll answer. She’s been begging him to let us fly out to Amarillo to visit. He promised that next month we could.”
“Great, that’s improvement.”
“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know how much of it is caving in to Alison’s persistency, but at least he agreed.”
We sauntered back toward the direction of the girls. “Not to sound ungrateful, but Holly and I were disappointed when you got here.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Sure, no problem,” I said coolly. We laughed. “But really, we were disappointed. We were hoping Nawien would be with you.”
“Why would you think that?”
“My conversation with Ali last week. She told me you guys were bringing a surprise.”
His grin returned. Now I know why he kept grinning: the surprise. “Yeah, and she also told you not to say anything to Holly about it, you dumbass.”
“I thought it was Nawie,” I retorted. “I had to tell her, Mike, you don’t know how bad it pains me to listen to her cry herself to sleep. When I told her that you guys might bring Nawien, she did a one-eighty. ‘The care-package of all care-packages’ she said. She hasn’t cried in a week. I told her not to get her hopes up, just in case.”
“Damn, I’m sorry. Alison should have told you what the surprise is.”
“What is the surprise?”
Mike pulled the same black velvet box out of his pocket. His smile was wider than ever. “Now don’t feel obligated to give her this, but I think she’ll love it.”
He pried it open and shone his flashlight on it. The large solitaire diamond winked at me once again. He pulled the ring out, the velvet cardboard insert pulled up with it. Underneath the insert was another ring. He pinched a hold of it and showed me the engraved white-gold band adorned with a large but not gaudy princess cut diamond. A trillion-cut sapphire (Holly’s birthstone) was set on either side of the diamond, forming a precious stone trinity. Holly would go nuts for this.
“It was Holly’s mother’s wedding ring,” Mike said. “Her grandma took possession of it after her mom died. It was passed down to Kloss before she died. He wanted Holly to have it when she was ready to marry. There’s an inscription inside the band, but it’s in Dutch. The ring was a solitaire diamond, but Ali came up with the idea of twin sapphires. Cost a pretty penny. Came out good, don’t you think?”
My eyes welled up. “It’s absolutely perfect. I love you guys.”
I put the ring in my pocket and before we continued back to the girls I asked Mike for a favor. “It would mean a lot to Holly and I.”
Chapter 53
My watch showed it to be nearing midnight. We pleaded with Ali and Mike to stay the night with us, but they were right: where would they sleep? After s’mores we sipped instant-coffee around the campfire and told old war stories. Of course we never saw a war, but that didn’t stop Mike. He always was a fibber, but in a fun way and always with good intentions. He polished the boring until it sparkled. He was telling us about the time he went on an undercover mission to free slaves from Saddam Hussein’s torture chamber. This time he was awarded the Silver Star, not the Congressional Metal of Honor. While he spoke I was threatening him with my eyes. He was stalling.
Before the story finished, I interrupted, “What’s that in your pocket, Mike?”
Mike shook his head at me. Both girls angled around the fire to see what I was referring to. They stared curiously at Mike. I often feel that Holly and Alison are just one girl standing beside a mirror.
I asked if anyone wanted a night-cap of champagne and didn’t wait for their answers as I poured four glasses (a half glass for the with-bun).
Mike unseated and paced as he mustered up the requisite courage; beads of sweat dotted his brow. Once or twice I saw him mouthing words. Finally he took the box out of his pocket. It then dawned on Alison what was happening. She covered her open mouth and gasped. Her eyes were enormous and gleaming against the fire light. He went down on one knee. Her gaze left the unopened box to meet his.
“Alison, honey, sweetheart. I’m not the most eloquent guy in Wawona, or even at this camp. But what I have to say is straight from my heart.
“The first time I saw you I thought you were the prettiest thing in the world. These last nine months have been the best of my life, even under these unusual circumstances. We have all been living in fear, but I haven’t told you my biggest fear. Losing you. I keep expecting that one day you will wake up and wonder why you are with me, but it hasn’t yet happened. I’m not the smartest guy; I’m far from the most handsome guy; I’m not the best lover, even though you pretend that I am. The only thing I have to offer you I have more than anyone else in the world: eternal and unconditional love and devotion for you.
“We haven’t talked about it, and not only do I expect you to say no, I think you’d be crazy to say yes, but I love you, Alison. I love everything about you. I don’t want this to end… ever.”
Mike pried the box open. The campfire energized the diamond like a struck match. Both girls ogled it.
Ali clapped her feet on the dirt excitedly and moaned. Tears streamed in contention with the nearby brook. Like iron to a two-hundred-and-forty pound magnet, Alison collided with Mike. She peppered him with kisses, saying yes between them.
We grudgingly saw them off, promising to see them in a week or two. They didn’t tell us, but they went straight to The Wawona Hotel. It was an unequivocally momentous evening; they needed privacy to express their love to its fullest extent.
A week or two, we promise.
Chapter 54
6:26 P.M., Tuesday, February sixth.
Thomas ‘Red’ Hunter: “Hello, Jake, my name is Red. I’m a representative of The VonFurenz Fan Club.”
Jake Belmont: “Oh yeah? What’s up?”
Red: “I’m calling with some exciting news for you. I hope you’re sitting down.”
Jake: “What is it?”
Red: “In the wake of all matters concerning Kloss VonFuren, Kloss has decided to do something special for his most loyal and dedicated fans. You are a loyal and dedicated fan, aren’t you, Mr. Belmont?”
Jake: “Are you kidding me? If you could see the tee-shirt I’m wearing you’d know the answer.”
Red: “Death and Taxes World Tour tee-shirt?”
Jake: (silence)
Red: (light chuckle)
Jake: “How… how did you know that?”
Red: “My records show that you bought advanced tickets to the Arco Arena performance of that tour.”
Jake: “Oh. Yeah, I guess I did.”
Red: “Being in The Vo
nFurenz Fan Club has its perks, doesn’t it Jake?”
Jake: “Hell yeah it does. Those seats were incredible and I paid less than the poor bastards twenty rows behind me.”
Red: “Well, Mr. Belmont, your fortune exceeds discounted seats in a sold out stadium concert this time. How would you like to attend a closed-set performance of VonFurenz?”
Jake: “You’re shittin’ me.”
Red: “I’m not shitting you, Jake. It will be a very small and intimate showing, only for the die-hard fans in the region; the fans who stuck with Kloss through thick and thin. It’s a token of his appreciation. And it gets better, Jake.”
Jake: “Better? How could it get better?”
Red: “You will get to meet the band. You’ll meet Kloss. Here’s the deal. Tomorrow VonFurenz will be playing in Yosemite, outside the Wawona Hotel. If you accept the invitation you will receive accommodations at the hotel, as well. Sorry about the late notice, but, as you can appreciate, we’re trying to avoid as much media attention as possible. The shorter the notice, the less likely we’ll have unwelcome guests. How does that sound?”
Jake: “It sounds too good to be true. What’s the catch?”
Red: “I told you, it’s fan appreciation. No catch. You need to be there by nine P.M. Get your bags checked in beforehand and be in front of the hotel no later than ten. We’ll take it from there. Sound good? Can I get your RSVP?”
Jake: “I work until midnight on Wednesdays, but you know what? Fuck ‘em. I’m going. Like I could pass this up. Count me in, man.”
Red: “Excellent. There is one condition.”
Jake: “The catch, I knew it. What do I have to do?”
Red: “No, nothing like that. If you tell anyone about this extremely private showing, you will be uninvited. That’s it. You’re name will be on the Wawona Hotel’s guess list. We look forward to seeing you Wednesday, Jake.”
6:28 P.M., Tuesday, February sixth.
Kenseth Hayworth: “I’m sorry, Marla, the invitation list is set in stone. No exceptions.”
Marla Chapman: “Damn, it would be so much fun if I could bring her.”
Kenseth: “Trust me, it will be fun even without her. Did I mention you will be meeting the band? Kloss is single, you know.” Kenseth chuckled.
Marla: “Meet Kloss? Oh my god oh my god oh my god. This isn’t some practical joke, is it? Oh my god oh my god, I can’t believe this.”
Kenseth: “Believe it, it’s really happening. Can I assume your RSVP then?”
Marla: “You bet your sweet ass, Kenseth. I’d drive across the country naked to meet Kloss. You said be at Wawona Hotel by nine this Wednesday? That’s tomorrow?”
6:34 P.M., Tuesday, February sixth.
Thomas ‘Red’ Hunter: “Between forty and fifty people; is that small enough, Jose?”
Jose Garcia: “That’s bullshit, Red. You expect me to believe a superstar like Kloss is going to put on a show for forty people and not make a dime? We live in a world where nobody does shit for free. What’s this really about?”
‘Red’ Hunter: “You’re a smart man, Mr. Garcia. I apologize for not being forthright with you from the beginning.”
Jose: “So what is it? What do I have to sign up for or what do I have to buy?”
Red: “It’s nothing like that. There’s going to be a live recording that will come out on video later this year. We only wanted VonFurenz’ biggest fans in the video, you know what I mean? You think Kloss wants people yawning in the background shots?”
Jose: “Yeah, that makes sense, dude.”
Red: “Also, if you wouldn’t mind giving a quick film interview after the show to say how much VonFurenz music means to you and how you still support the front man, Kloss.”
Jose: “I’d love to, dude. See, why didn’t you just come out and say that to begin with? I knew there had to be a reason. What day and time is the show?”
6:34 P.M., Tuesday, February sixth.
Kenseth Haynes: “No, I’m sorry, this set is for VonFurenz Fan Club members only. You have to come alone.”
Claude Bergman: “She is a VonFurenz Fan Club member. Come on, man. Let her come too.”
Kenseth: “Oh, she is? What’s her name?”
Claude: “Macy DeMaise.”
Kenseth: “Spell the last name, please.”
Claude: “D-E-M-A-I-S-E.”
Kenseth: “Hmm… sorry, Claude. She isn’t on the list. She cannot come. No exceptions.”
Claude: “Damn! Guess I’m not gettin’ laid on Wednesday. She loves VonFurenz, even more than I do. She’s going to be jealous as a motherfucker.”
Kenseth: “What do you mean she’s going to be jealous? What part of ‘nobody is to find out about this private event’ don’t you understand?”
Claude: “Ah, that’s right. Damn. I guess I can come without her. It’s just that she’s so hot man. Just got divorced, too. I’d get some for sure if I... Oh! I had the wrong last name, I bet! DeMaise is her maiden name. She is probably under Macy Frederick.”
Kenseth: “Frederick… Fredrick… ah yes! There she is! She is on my short list of fans to call this evening. How about that!”
Claude: “Hell yeah! Wooot! I’m getting laid for sure tomorrow.”
Kenseth: “You don’t say? Tell me, what’s Macy look like?”
Claude: “Five-and-a-half feet tall, a hundred-twenty pounds, ash blonde hair—”
Kenseth: “Her tits, Kap. Christ, who cares about all that shit? How’s her tits and ass?”
Claude: (laughing heartily)
Kenseth: “Maybe I’ll stop by your room and give her a little visit, huh?”
Claude: “You dog, man. She’s excellent. After I’m done with her, you can do whatever you want to her. I don’t give a rat’s ass.”
Kenseth: “Exactly what I was thinking. Mark my words, Kapland, I’ll be inside of her before the nights over, one way or another.”
Claude: “How do you know my real name?”
6:34 P.M., Tuesday, February sixth.
“Many romantics believe there is one perfect match for each person. That would mean searching through six billion people to find you, my perfect match. The odds have disallowed me to believe this to be true, until I met you. In some way, shape, or form, there is a sweet old lady looking down upon us from the great big Pie in the Sky and she evens the odds that are stacked so cruelly against us. She makes a stoplight turn green when it needs to be green, makes a tire blow out when you’re making too good of time. She finds a way for us meet our perfect match, I truly believe that now.
“So here I am… with one six-billionth of the human race and I’ve found my Cinderella; my glass heart fits you and only you. I love you far more than I can relate to you; volumes more than those three simple words define; yet tomorrow I will love you more, and the day after even more, and so on until the day my earthen body becomes incapable of love, in which I will continue to love you in spirit.
“I promise to be the best husband and father I can be, if you’ll have me. The world is our oyster and you are my pearl, and shucks, will you marry me and become Misses Holly Elise Reed?”
6:39 P.M., Tuesday, February sixth.
‘Red’ Hunter: “It’s only a few miles from the Park entrance, The Wawona Hotel. You can’t miss it.”
Ellis Viceroy: “Great, I can’t wait! I really appreciate this, Red, it’s been a miserable couple days for me. I’m VonFurenz’ biggest fan! Oh man, I’m shaking. I’m sure there probably is, but do you know if there’s handicap access at the hotel? For a wheelchair?
Red: “Wheelchair…?”
Ellis: “Yeah. A few days ago I was in an accident and—”
Click
10:30 A.M., Wednesday, February seventh—the birth day.
Wawona Hotel Clerk Dorothy McKloud: “An additional three rooms for today? Shouldn’t be a problem, Mr. Hunter. One second and I’ll check.”
‘Red’ Hunter: “Thank you, Dorothy. You’re doing the Lord’s work, you know tha
t?”
Dorothy: “That’s kind of you to say, Mr. Hunt—”
Red: “Please, call me Red.”
Dorothy: “It’s you, Kenseth, and the others of A.D.S.A.A. who are making a difference. I’m just doing my job. You know what, Red?—my nephew Mort has down syndrome. Small world, huh?”
Red: “Very.”
Dorothy: “I hold people who dedicate their lives to those like my nephew in the utmost regard. I wonder if my sister—Mort’s mother—is familiar with your organization. And it looks like we have plenty of space available for tonight. So that’s a total of thirty-three rooms now, is that correct?”
Red: “Yes, that is correct. Would you like to charge the deposit over the phone or does your fine establishment wish to trust the Autistic and Down Syndrome Association of America to write a check when I arrive this evening?”
Dorothy: “Please, Red, put your credit card back in your wallet, if it’s out. Not only can you pay when you check out tomorrow, but I spoke with the General Manager this morning and she is extending you a thirty percent discount on your rooms.”
Red: “God bless you and your General Manager. I’ll be sure to mention the Wawona Hotel, as well as you and your manager during my magazine interview next week. It’s the least I can do. Thank you so—”
Dorothy: “Oh neat, what magazine is publishing the interview?”
Red: “I beg your pardon?”