Sat, November 14, 2074 7:32 pm: Lothario Hall- Rawling Hills, Pleasantview
"I don't know how you always manage to talk me into throwing these insipid little get-togethers Adelaide but I swear, there will be at least six months between now and the next time I have to share breathing room with mostof these people. And who is that girl coming in with Horace?" Dina snapped her fingers at the bartender while she spoke, never taking her eyes off of the door. Her voice undulated from high to low, marking what Adelaide knew to be her mother's first stage of inebriation.
While the bartender filled Dina's empty glass with gin and tonic, Adelaide patted her baby squarely on the back to quell her rising sobs. Adelaide then disinterestedly turned her head to see what girl her mother was blustering about and was met with the heavily painted face of Madeline Burb. Madeline locked eyes with Adelaide and waved bashfully. Adelaide refused to acknowledge the gesture.
"That'll be Madeline," Adelaide said dryly, rolling her eyes. "You know, your son-in-law's sister." Adelaide thought that Dina should have been able to guess as much considering the fact that Ian and Madeline were almost identical. Dina snorted contemptuously.
"Honestly Adelaide, you can't expect me to keep track of all Ian's siblings. Ginny Burb must have a revolving door between her legs. If age hadn't caught up with her, she'd still be popping them out. And what is that Madeline girl wearing?"
Privately, Adelaide had to agree with her mother on the subject of Madeline's choice of attire. Bright green paisley with brass rivets was not exactly the height of invention. But the rest of it had been completely uncalled for. Dina was already drunk enough to begin maligning guests and Adelaide would have to put a stop to it before it got out of hand.
"I think you've just had your last cocktail, mother."
"Nonsense. Why is she arriving with the Goths and not her own people?"
"Don't you know? Madeline and Enoch are engaged to be married." Dina gasped and grabbed her chest as though she were having a heart attack.
"Never, a Goth marry a Burb? Scandalous. But I suppose it is better than that thing Phoenix shacked-up with. Or what your sister married. This state is truly going to the dogs." Dina took a large swig of gin.
"Would it be worth the effort for me to remind you that you married me off to a Burb," Adelaide whined.
"You, my dear, are not a Goth. Besides, Ian wasn't my idea. He was you father's. I only went along with it because I was eager to finally get some full caste grandbabies."
"Isabella's boys are full caste." Dina choked on her drink.
Patting herself near the clavicle, Dina said huskily, "Jean-Luc Tellerman is a Townie." Adelaide sighed. There was really no arguing with her mother.
"We've been over this. He is a second generation Resident. His parents were both brilliant, first rate people- Not to mention disgustingly rich."
"Townies, both of them. Don't piss under my tree and try to tell me it's raining, Adelaide."
"I'm not even going to attempt to decipher that metaphor, mother." Adelaide bounced Francesca in the palm of her hand while Dina studied their closest friends and family like a white-gloved bird of prey. Perhaps it was the sweltering heat of the crowded room but Adelaide soon found herself growing nauseous. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore it. At length, Dina rose her glass in the direction of the Pleasants.
"Sabina is growing up to be a rare beauty, don't you think," Dina said wistfully. Adelaide furrowed her brow, both surprised by her mother's sudden amiability and desperate to prevent the resurrection of her dinner. "It is such a shame that the poor girl's head is as empty as a beach ball. Adelaide, are you alright?" Adelaide's vision was dancing. Her nausea was coming in waves. She had to get out of there.
"I... I don't know. I'm feeling a little flustered."
"I daresay you are. You've barely eaten for days and you don't diet. You're either newly expecting or coming down with something. And seeing as how you've never so much as sniffled a day in your life, my money is on the former."
"I think I'm going to be sick."
During a brief silence, Adelaide found herself directly beneath her mother's wide-eyed scrutiny. Dina looked her up and down, no doubt searching for signs of burgeoning pudginess- Weighing Adelaide with her eyes. Adelaide was not pregnant. She couldn't be. Francesca was barely eight months old. She didn't even want to think about the prospect of having another child so soon. Dina outstretched her arms to Adelaide.
"Here, give me the baby and go take care of yourself. I'll make your excuses." Adelaide instinctively turned away from Dina with a slight twist of her hips as if to shield the baby. Dina did not seem to notice. A burning liquid rose up in Adelaide's throat. The world was slowly churning. Her palms grew hot and sweaty under the burden of her daughter's body. Overpowered, Adelaide handed the baby to Dina for fear of dropping her.
Part II: Ian Is Found Wanting
Sat, November 14, 2074 7:39 pm: Lothario Hall- Rawling Hills, Pleasantview
"Ian!" He knew that snarl as well as he knew his own heartbeat. He did not even need to turn around to perceive the harsh contours of her mouth or the narrow squint of her eyes. Ian hastily stuffed the last hors d'oeuvre down his throat before facing his mother-in-law's soulless frown.
"Yeah, Mom? What can I do ya for?"
"First of all, you may save your maternal affectations for your actual mother. Secondly, you are meant to be hosting this party, not gorging yourself on chocolate. And lastly, your wife has taken ill and gone to bed. Ginny has Francesca." Ian's nervous grin vanished.
"Addy is sick?" Ian had never called her that aloud before. And even with as naturally as the pet name had rolled off of his tongue, he still regretted having given voice to it at all, let alone in front of Dina. Adelaide was not the sort of woman that should inspire baby talk and cutesy sobriquets. She was the sort of woman that merited long-winded poetry and vows of undying passion. But in the end, Ian was not the sort of man to write poetry or feel passion.
"Yes Ian, that is what I said. Now do you need me to repeat any or all of what I just told you? Or was once sufficient enough for me to get my message through to your gnat's brain?" Ian slowly nodded the affirmative but he secretly wished she would repeat the part about affection. Dina sniffed tartly then turned on her heals and fled across the room to chat with the Dreamers.
Ian breathed a sigh of relief at having been left alone. He hated parties. Hell, he hated his social position. As Ian turned back towards the food, he was startled to find himself face to face with a foolishly grinning Lawrence Caliente.
"Hiya!" Laurie was unusually peppy. Ian didn't know what to make of it.
"Oh, hey Laurie. How are things?"
"Oppressively dull. What about you? You enjoying yourself?" Ian glanced around the room at the sea of stiff, terrifying people. No, he was not enjoying himself.
"Same here," he said simply. Laurie's grin widened.
"Excellent," he said, then looked over his shoulder and gestured for his sister to come join them.
Ian had always liked Lydia. She was fun and spirited- The absolute antithesis of the Adelaide Lotharios of the world. She spent her days in downtown pool halls wearing tattered jeans and drinking grown men under the table. She was wild, boyish and most people agreed, irredeemably eccentric. But what Ian admired most was that she made no apologies for any of it. She beamed at him when she came to a halt just behind Laurie.
"Happy birthday, Lydia," Ian said almost shyly.
"Thanks, Ian. Wanna turn this shindig around?" Ian raised his eyebrows. He didn't know what these two had planned but he thought that it was almost worth the combined ire of his mother-in-law and his sick wife if the night could somehow be salvaged.
"Yeah," Ian said. "As a matter of fact, I do want."
"Great," Laurie exclaimed, punching Ian in the shoulder. For such a small person, he threw a shockingly painful punch. Ian resisted the urge to rub his aching shoulder in front of Lydia. Laurie leaned towards Ian, evidently for the purpose of secrecy. "If you'll kindly direct the birthday girl to your circuit breaker then we just might be able to kick this party up a notch."
