“You realize hate does nothing for you. They’re happy. We’re happy. And most important ...”
Trevor kissed her.
“Ana’s happy.”
Shireena never needed to say much. As long as he heard love in her voice, Trevor conceded to her wisdom.
After Reginald briefly mentioned his life with six roughhousing brothers, Shireena replied:
“Did you and your brothers carry long grudges or make up by the end of the day?”
Reginald wrapped an arm around Effie.
“My parents encouraged our discord on a single condition. After we released our anger, love and forgiveness followed. No one in our home sat down to a meal with a heart tainted by offense.” Reginald’s eyes drifted into the past. “But there might be a swollen lip or a broken rib. These things happened.”
The laughter felt easy. Nothing forced today. The tension seemed as far removed as Trevor’s fear of losing his daughter to a new man.
The future Mr. and Mrs. Endowi embraced Shireena with open arms. The generosity extended deep into the guest list, three-fourths of which came at Effie’s invitation. As Trevor made his rounds – which everyone expected of Amity’s Governor – adults who might feel uneasy greeted Shireena with unexpected enthusiasm. Their compliments seemed heartfelt. Some spent more time gabbing with the woman on his arm, which Trevor appreciated. He never enjoyed small talk with diplomats.
The live entertainment, a three-piece band brought in from Mauritania at Imelda’s expense – lent a jumpy beat to the occasion. At the lead singer’s request, the kids raced to the dance floor, lined up as if they rehearsed, and twisted their hips and arms in tune with the music. It made for a great floor show.
Until Ana raced to the head table and grabbed her father’s arm.
“Come on, Papa. You have to!”
“I’m sorry, what?”
The ultimate nightmare came to fruition.
“Dance with me!”
Ana pulled at Trevor, who steered clear of dance floors all his life – while sober. After a few long-ago binges, Connor made wild claims about Trevor’s mobility. His own memory never confirmed those tales.
Did he have a choice today?
“OK,” he told Ana. “But you take it easy on me. I’m old.”
She rolled her eyes.
“No, you’re not. C’mon.”
Trevor refused to be fodder for legendary jokes. He pointed to his tablemates.
“I’m not doing this alone. Everybody into the fire! Let’s go.”
They accepted the challenge.
To Trevor’s relief, he and Ana danced to music which didn’t require any special formation. She offered pointers. Naturally.
Hips left, hips right. Bend your knees. Cross your hands over your chest. Point up. Point down. Wave to the crowd.
“Where did you learn this, sweetie?” He shouted over the music.
“Streamvids. There’s a million.”
Trevor groaned.
“After today, a million and one.”
Ana shimmied, oblivious to her father’s snark. He tried a new tack.
“Is the party everything you wanted it to be, sweetie?”
“Even better.”
“I’m glad. What was your favorite present? And don’t say the pom.”
She giggled.
“The pom, silly! I’ve only been asking for one my whole life.”
“Begging. Crying. Throwing a tantrum. Sometimes you asked.”
Ana slapped her arms to her hips and feigned shock.
“You’re not funny, Papa. You and Mama were just stubborn.”
“Ah. That was all, huh? Good to know. Thought I misread the whole dynamic. So, after the pom, what was your favorite present?”
