Queen V.'s Arc

Chapter 13 of 13

Queen V. stood at the rosé table when she heard the gate open. Hank walked across the lawn carrying the case of Molson Canadian. He set it down on the weathered picnic table near the fire pit and looked at the guests gathered under the peaked roof. "I wanted to celebrate properly," he said. "Paul told me you were having the best May 24th yet." The guests turned to see who had spoken. Queen V. crossed to where Hank stood and looked at the case. It was the same one she had given Paul to settle the debt. Hank smiled at her and raised his hands in a small gesture of peace. She had tried to buy his silence. He had brought the payment back. Queen V. looked at the case, then at Hank, then at the guests watching from inside the garden house. She could send him away and keep the image she had built. Or she could let him stay and admit that control had always been the thing she was fighting. She picked up the case and carried it to the rosé table. She set it down next to the chilled bottles and opened the cardboard flap. "Then help yourself," she said. Hank pulled out a bottle and twisted off the cap. The guests began talking again, some moving toward the table, some staying by the fire. Paul appeared at her side and touched her arm briefly. The weather had held. The caterer had delivered. The doubters had witnessed her success. But the victory she felt now was smaller and quieter than she had expected. She had hosted the best May 24th weekend despite the weather. She had also survived it despite herself. Hank pulled a metal cooler from his porch and dragged it across the property line. He filled it with ice and loaded the remaining bottles inside. He placed it near the fire pit where guests could reach it. Someone handed him a plate piled with grilled meat and vegetables. He sat on the bench near the garden house and ate without asking permission. Queen V. watched him settle in like he had been invited from the start. She could have stopped him. She chose not to. The event would continue exactly as she had planned, except now it included the one thing she had spent the weekend trying to eliminate. The fire crackled as the sun dropped behind the trees. Guests moved between the rosé and the beer. Alan James sat on the porch steps eating from his own plate. Paul stood beside Queen V. and watched the crowd. She had built the glass house to defeat the rain. She had hidden the cellar to defeat the evidence. She had invited the doubters to defeat their expectations. She had done all of it. The weekend was hers. But the cost of winning had been admitting she could not control everything. She looked at Hank laughing with a guest near the cooler. She looked at Paul beside her. She had hosted the best May 24th weekend despite the weather. And she had done it by letting go of the one thing she thought she needed most. Queen V. walked to the garden house and closed the door behind her. She stood alone in the space she had created to protect her vision. The brick bench covered the cellar. The amber bottle was gone. Paul had taken it when he left. She looked through the glass walls at the guests gathered around the fire. They were still here. The event was still hers. But she no longer needed to stand apart from it to prove she had won. She opened the door and stepped back outside. The evening continued without pause. She joined Paul at the fire and let the warmth reach her. The weekend was ending. She had achieved what she set out to do. And for the first time, that was enough.