“Anytime, Mundy. Just give me a call.”
In a short time, I met more people than I ever hoped to remember. And they gave me more beers than I ever hoped to drink, although I tried my best to keep up. Someone stuffed the ancient jukebox full of quarters, and several people took turns dancing me around the room. For a while I managed to forget about Mani, or at least about the bad stuff. With all of his friends around, I remembered my brother as the fun-loving life of the party, and his spirit lingered in us all.
The jukebox went quiet, and conversation compensated for the silence until David Gilmour’s voice ghosted from the speakers, haunting in a way that gave me goose bumps when he crooned about being comfortably numb. I had added the song to my favorite playlist several months ago and often fell asleep to it playing on repeat. Val pushed his way through the crowd and pulled me into his arms. “Dance with me,” he said.
“Did you pick this song?” I asked as he swayed against me.
“Yes, why?”
“It’s one of my favorites.”
“Mm-hmm.” Val nodded. “Mani was a big Pink Floyd fan.”
“This jukebox has a very familiar collection of music.”
“Probably because your brother donated most of the records in it.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
Val smiled. “He said that since he spent so much time and money here, the least they could do was play some decent music. Before Mani’s donations, they only had Willie, Johnny, and Waylon, the trifecta of country.”
“Mani was never a fan of the status quo. He had to put his personal touch on everything.”
Val shook his head with the heed of the inebriated, and I wondered how much he’d had to drink. “Not on you, though.”
“What do you mean?” Drunk people so rarely made sense.
“You’re nothing like your brother.”
I pulled back, uncertain whether to take offense or not. Val fingered a tendril of hair that had come loose from my braid. “You’re all golden,” he said. “Molten sunlight. But Mani, he was…”
“Darkness and moonlight,” I said, sticking to the analogy Val had started. I took after my father—honey-blond hair, gold eyes, a complexion that bronzed in the sun. Mani’s looks mirrored those of our father’s brother. They shared the same black hair, olive skin, and silver eyes. People often pointed out our differences as if they were offended by our lack of similarities.
“It’s not just your looks,” Val said. “Your personalities were opposite, too. Mani was always restless, driven, like he was never quite satisfied. Like he thought there was more that he was supposed to be doing or finding. But you…” Val didn’t have to finish his thought. I knew what he meant. I was everything Mani hadn’t been – staid, subdued, complacent – and I had been content to live vicariously through my brother.
“He adored you, you know,” said Val. “Talked about you so much, I was half in love with you before we ever met the first time.” That first time was when Mani brought Val home for a long weekend near the end of his first summer in Alaska. Mom and Dad gave me a precious day off, and I spent it with Val and Mani at the lake near our house. Val had flirted and teased and made me feel like the most beautiful and brilliant woman on the planet. Then he and Mani went back to Alaska, and I went back to work.
Val whirled me around and slipped his hand up my back, then to my shoulder, finally curling warm fingers around my neck. The aphrodisiac of alcohol and Pink Floyd made Val’s attentions feel so very nice when, for the last few months, I had put all my effort into feeling nothing at all. “How did we get so morbid?” I asked. “This is supposed to be a party.”
“You know what? You’re completely right.” He pulled me close, buried his face in my neck, and blew a raspberry. I shrieked, fell into a fit of giggles, and struggled halfheartedly to push him away.
“Having a good time, Miss Mundy?” Aleksander Thorin appeared before us as though he had materialized from the bar’s hazy shadows. His eyes flickered over Val before returning to me. His mouth stretched into a knowing grin.
“Yes, Mr. Thorin,” I said, pushing at Val until he relaxed his grip. “Thanks for inviting me.”
Thorin winked at Val. “Oh, one way or another, I think you would have ended up right where you are.”
I broke from Val’s grasp, miffed at Thorin’s insinuation, but my mother raised me to use my manners, even in the presence of those who lacked them. In this case, that meant biting my tongue and keeping my sharp reply to myself. I liked Val fine, more than fine, but I didn’t like anyone assuming he and I were a foregone conclusion, especially when I wasn’t certain of that myself.
Someone called to Thorin, and he excused himself and turned away.
I turned to Val. “Is he like that all the time?”
“Like what?”
“A jerk.”
“He’s intense, but he takes care of his people.”
“Like he took care of my brother?” That was an unfair judgment. Mani’s death was not Thorin’s fault. At least I didn’t think so. But he had rubbed me the wrong way, and I was feeling a bit chafed.
“As much as Mani would let him, yeah.”
Independent Mani wouldn’t accept coddling from anyone. I understood what Val meant.
The long drive from Anchorage, jet lag, and a limitless supply of beer left me swaying on my feet long before the party ended. Even though Val had a fresh drink in hand and had started a new round of cricket, he offered to take me back to Mani’s apartment. “I don’t think I’m in any state to drive,” he said, “but I could handle walking you home.”
I believed the sincerity of his offer, but his eyes kept shifting to the dartboard in a way that indicated he wasn’t ready to go. When I urged him to stay and have fun, he gave in with little protest. “You have a D.D.?” I asked.
Val nodded as he led me to the exit. “Thorin will make sure we all get home in one piece. I’ll call you in the morning to check on you.”
“At the rate you’re going, I have a feeling you won’t be up for doing much of anything in the morning.”
“Then I’ll call you in the afternoon.”
