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Every contact in her phone had come up empty.
Eri was away; Yuka already had a babysitting gig; Ayumi had to “wash her hair” (lies, Sango suspected). Rin was dog-sitting. All her regular sitters were either busy or “busy”—or maybe they were all “busy” and Sango was just getting worse at spotting the liars as she got older.
She sighed, and set her phone on the counter. Her husband Miroku’s publishing company had won a prestigious publishing industry award, and they had been invited to the awards dinner and after party. It was a big deal:the Grand Ballroom at the Prospect, black-tie, dinner, music, dancing.
Open bar.
Yes, Sango wanted more than anything to be able to go. The only problem was...well, there were three problems, exactly.
Their names were Hisui, Kin’u, and Gyokuto.
Okay, not problems, per se? But three little children meant that Sango and Miroku couldn’t go anywhere without them, unless they had a babysitter. And Miroku and Sango didn’t have family in the area, so anytime they needed someone to take care of their children, they looked to babysitters. Sango typically relied on neighborhood girls, or on college students, but this was a case where so far, they hadn’t been able to find anyone. And Sango totally knew why.
Three children was a lot to ask anyone who was not their parents to babysit; three children ages six and under was even more to ask of someone. That was to be expected. Especially when two of those children were four-year old twins. But when it came to Sango and Miroku’s children, it wasn’t the twins that were the problem.
It was Hisui.
Their oldest boy was six years old; he was adorable, with dark hair and a serious, intelligent little face. He was in first grade, could read everything, spell more (which was a huge problem, as mom and dad could no longer spell things out in his presence), and a master manipulator. Like, the master. Somehow, he roped his sisters into doing all his dirty work; more than once, Sango had discovered her daughters burying things in the yard, cleaning up their brother’s bedroom, and taking the blame for things that Hisui had done. (Like, did the kids really think that the girls would be the ones to break the glass coffee table? When it was something they never even went near? He was six, after all; he wasn’t exactly smarter than his parents. His sisters, though? Absolutely.)
But while Hisui wasn’t smarter than the adults in his life, he was definitely a kid who tested boundaries by pushing buttons. What would get a rise out of them? What would make them crazy? What would make them want to punish him? He would push, and push, and push, and then apologize, smile that big, dazzling smile, and wrap his arms around either hers or Miroku’s neck and give them the biggest kiss, and instantly, their hearts would melt.
And that was how he got away with absolutely everything. But that was also why, when Sango needed a babysitter, more and more the people that she called suddenly had things to do when she asked them to come over.
Sango sighed, and scrolled through her contacts. There weren’t any other people she could ask.
“Well?” Her husband, Miroku, came into the kitchen. He offered her a soft kiss, which she happily accepted, and then he joined her, leaning his elbows on the counter. He had just come from the gym; his hair was mussed, flyaways coming out of his usually groomed short ponytail, his handsome face glistening with sweat. “Did you find anyone yet to watch the kids?”
“Everyone is busy,” Sango said, desperation and sadness seeping into her tone. “I just wish that I could think of someone who we haven’t asked to watch the kids before. Because then they wouldn’t…”
“They wouldn’t run screaming when we call?” Miroku teased her. Sango gave him a tiny smile, and he reached out and hugged her to him. She felt him nestle his face in her hair, and she smiled a little bit more broadly.
“I just...I just really want to be able to go with you,” Sango said, pulling away slightly and turning to face him. “And if I can’t find a babysitter…”
Miroku cupped her face in his hands and gave her a kiss. “We’ll find someone,” he promised her. “Don’t you have any recent graduates that you would trust? I know you’d feel more comfortable with someone a little bit older, so how about a former student?”
Sango pursed her lips in thought, going through all her recent graduates to see if there might be someone she could call. Her mind did a mental checklist, faces flashing through, but one after another, she crossed them out. Until she got to…
“Miroku, honey,” Sango said suddenly, “you’re a genius. I know exactly who we’re going to call.”
“All the numbers are on the fridge, and the kids will need to have dinner,” Sango told the babysitter. “There’s leftover pasta, and chicken nuggets, and pizza, so plenty of options.”
The babysitter, a bright-eyed, recent graduate of Sango’s program named Kagome, giggled. “I’m sure we’ll be fine, Dr. Taijiya,” she said. “I’ll make sure to minimize screen time; I have a few projects in mind that we can do!”
Sango smiled. She knew that Kagome had been a good choice. She was also adorable, with shiny dark hair, bright eyes, and a warm smile. Hisui tended to be nicer to pretty girls, so Sango had made sure to find someone cute enough to keep his attention. He was only six, yes, but he definitely had a thing for kind, sweet girls that he also thought were pretty. Sango chuckled to herself, remembering the time that he was about eighteen months old, and they were on the beach, and a pretty girl in a bikini had walked by, and his eyes left the sand castle he was building, and followed her down the beach.
Yup, her son had inherited his father’s taste for women. But hopefully, also like his father, he would settle down someday when he found the right person. Miroku certainly had.
“...and bedtime is at 9,” Kagome was saying, snapping Sango back to reality. “Is there anything else that I should know?”
Sango thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “Oh!” she said, “yes. No ice cream for anyone. Kin’u can’t have it, and I haven’t had time to go to the grocery store yet to buy her special dairy-free ice cream. So until I can do that, no ice cream for anyone. If you give it to Hisui and Gyokuto, Kin’u will want it too.”
Kagome nodded her head. “I’ll be sure to offer plenty of other options,” Kagome promised. “Don’t worry.”
Sango smiled, relieved. “I’m going to go upstairs and get ready,” she told Kagome. She turned to the stairs. “Hisui! Kin’u! Gyokuto! Miss Kagome is here to take care of you tonight! Come down and say hello!” She smiled at Kagome as they heard crashes and bangs from upstairs; a rumble, a lot of tumbling, and three small children barreled into the kitchen. The girls made for their mother, but Hisui hung back, looking at Kagome with narrowed eyes.
“Kids,” Sango said, “this is Miss Kagome. She’s here to watch you while Daddy and I go into the city tonight for his party. Remember I told you that Daddy’s getting an award tonight?” When the kids all nodded, Sango continued. “That means that we are going to be out late, because we have to drive into the city—into Brooklyn —” she added meaningfully to Kagome, who grimaced, “—and we won’t be back until after you go to bed.” She looked at Kagome, who dropped to the girls’ level, and smiled softly.
“Hi there,” she said, “I’m Kagome. Your mommy was my teacher, and I’m very happy to get to meet you too. Can you tell me your names?”
“Kin’u,” said Kin’u shyly, from behind Sango’s leg.
“Gyokuto,” said Gyokuto, from behind Sango’s other leg.
Kagome smiled. “You have some beautiful names,” she said, “and I think that we’ll have a lot of fun together.” Sango watched as Kagome turned to her eldest child next. “And what’s your name?” she asked Hisui. “I’m Kagome.”
Hisui crossed his arms and tossed his head, shaking it as he did so. Sango felt the little prickle of rage and impatience in her heart. He was not going to do this now, was he?
“Hisui,” Sango said kindly, but the hint of warning in her voice clear, “Miss Kagome has told you her name. Will you please tell her yours?”
“Yes,” Kagome said, “I would love to know your name.”
“My mother already said it,” Hisui pointed out, a pout forming on his little face.
Sango sighed, and prayed for strength. But before she could say anything, Kagome spoke again.
“I know she did,” Kagome said. “But if it’s okay, I’d really like to hear it from you, so we can be introduced properly. Is that okay?”
“Hi—Hisui,” he muttered, the pout still clear on his face.
Kagome smiled and extended her arm to him. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, sweetly and formally. “I’m Kagome Higurashi, and I hope that we get to have lots of fun today.”
“I don’t need you to have lots of fun today,” Hisui said, a hint of anger seeping into his tone. “I can get by on my own just fine.” He huffed, crossed his arms, and turned away.
Kagome and Sango exchanged a look; Sango’s heart froze. Oh, good lord, no.
“Are you sure, Hisui?” Kagome asked him. “I have lots of good, fun things in my box.”
“And I have lots of good, fun things in my room,” Hisui shot back.
“Hisui,” Sango said, gently but with the hint of warning she had perfected as a mother of three, “why don’t you go with Miss Kagome and see what’s in her special box? She brought it all the way here just for you and your sisters.”
“I don’t care!” Hisui exclaimed. “I’m going to my room!” He took off towards the living room, and Sango and Kagome heard him thump up the stairs, back to his room.
“I--I’m so sorry,” Sango said apologetically. “He is...he can be challenging, at the best of times.”
Kagome smiled. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m sure that he’ll be fine.” She reached for the girls. “I bet you’d like to see what’s in the box I bought, right?”
The girls nodded cautiously, and allowed Kagome to take their hands. Kagome looked back up at Sango. “I’ll give him a few minutes, and then go check on him,” she said. “He wants attention, and if I go up there right away, he’ll have gotten what he wanted.”
“So you’ll give him a few minutes…” Sango began.
Kagome nodded. “And then we’ll go see if he wants to join us.” She smiled. “Go upstairs and get ready,” Kagome added. “We’ll be fine. Right, girls?”
The girls squealed in response, and let go of Sango to eagerly follow Kagome into the living room. Sango gave a sigh of relief.
It was going to be alright.
She turned, and headed into the living room herself, watching as Kagome opened her box of treats for the girls (drawing paper and markers and stamps), then went up the stairs to her bedroom to begin getting dressed. She paused at Hisui’s room, but his door was closed. She went to open the door, but remembered Kagome’s comment about not giving in to his desire for attention. She sighed, and kept going down the hall to her own room.
Sango found Miroku in there, standing in front of the full-length mirror. He was already dressed; his shoulder-length hair tied back in his signature low ponytail, his bangs askew, even though Sango knew that he had probably combed them out. He was just buttoning his tux, and looked up when Sango entered.
“Ah, is Kagome here?” he asked, turning around and straightening this jacket. Sango’s breath caught. His indigo eyes danced at her, and he suddenly looked much younger—the boy she had met and fallen in love with, who had grown into the man she was now proud to be married to. He saw the way she was looking at him, and he grinned and winked. “Like what you see, my dear Sango?”
“I—I do ,” she said, striding forward. She held him at arm’s length, brushing the shoulders of his tux jacket, then down his arms. She frowned; his tie was crooked. She gave it a little jerk, straightening it out, then stepped back and looked at him, crossing her arms and examining him from top to bottom. “There,” she added, nodding her head, “ now , I like what I see, and you look perfect.”
Miroku laughed and tugged his wife to him. Sango giggled as he swept her up into his arms and gave her a searing kiss; after all these years, he still managed to set her heart on fire. “And you are going to look perfect, too, my love,” he whispered against her lips. “I’ll go get the children’s dinner started, and give you time to get ready.”
Sango leaned in for another kiss, which he eagerly gave her. “Thank you,” she breathed. “I want to look just right for our first night out since the girls were born.”
“You will, my love,” he said, letting her go and heading towards the door. “You always look just right, and I have every confidence that tonight will be no exception.” He opened the door, stepped outside, and turned back to her. “You have the perfect dress, and it will be the perfect night,” he assured her. “And we have the perfect babysitter to make sure that our children are well-behaved and well-taken care of.” He paused. “Everything will be fine, Sango. You’ll see. Go ahead and get ready. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs.” He offered her a gentle smile before he closed the door on his way out.
Sango couldn’t help but smile after her husband. He was always so sweet, so kind, and so thoughtful.... A far cry from his easy-going, flirtatious self he’d been when the first met. She kind of missed that Miroku, but only a little bit. Back then, she had mostly just wanted to slap him all the time for his bad pick-up lines and double entendres, whereas now?
Now she just wanted to kiss him, and love him, forever, and ever.
Sango went over to her closet and opened the door. She pulled out a garment bag, walked back over to the full-length mirror, and unzipped the bag. She held it up to her torso, and smiled.
Miroku was right; it was the perfect dress for the perfect night.
“Yes,” she said to herself, taking the dress out of the bag and smoothing the front carefully, “it’s going to be one hell of an evening, that’s for sure.”
The Grand Ballroom at the Prospect was a magnificent space: late 19th century architecture, a high ceiling with a stunning crystal chandelier, and two rows of balconies that looked down onto the dining and dance floor. The balconies were ornate, decorated with sculpted flowers and crests that were painted rich pinks and blues and golds.
Sango was in awe. She had been to New York City weddings before, and some in places nearly as spectacular as this, but this space easily topped them all. She tugged at her dress nervously, hoping that she hadn’t underdressed for the occasion.
“My dear Sango,” said Miroku, gently taking her elbow and guiding her into the room, “you look perfect: a perfect dress, for a perfect wife, for a perfect night.”
Sango blushed, and giggled as she tucked her arm about his waist. “It’s definitely something, isn’t it?” she commented, looking around in awe.
“Yes,” said Miroku, suddenly serious, “it certainly is.”
Sango turned to face her husband, and saw that his eyes were gleaming, a deep sapphire, as he looked her up and down appreciatively. And she supposed that she did deserve it, at least a little. She’d spent an hour getting herself to look just right, and the result...well, she’d been pleased with it, and she was glad her husband was, as well.
Her dress was a light pink, and sparkly, with spaghetti straps and a deep neckline. It clung to her body, which wasn’t the best it had ever looked after having three kids, but it was nothing that a little bit of Spanx couldn’t fix. Her makeup was carefully applied—her pink eyeshadow contrasting her perfect cat eye and the luxurious mascara she only brought out for special occasions. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail, sleek and shiny, and she wore large gold hoops to finish off the look. No other jewelry—nothing around her neck, and no bracelets—save her wedding rings. Sango liked to keep it clean, and neat, and crisp.
“You know that you are the prettiest girl here, Dr. Taijiya,” Miroku purred, and dropped a kiss on the side of her neck. Sango giggled, and pushed him away as they walked into the ballroom space. “How is the prettiest girl here all alone?”
Sango refrained from rolling her eyes. “I did come with someone,” she replied lightly, “but he’s kind of an idiot. Keeps wandering off to talk to other people.”
She saw Miroku blush, and she knew that she’d hit a little nerve—before they started dating, he had...played the field, as he would say...and it had made Sango quite nervous when they actually started going out that he would continue that practice. Luckily, as he valued his life and her, he did not.
“If he’s leaving you to talk to other people,” her husband purred, now nosing her earring, “he’s definitely an idiot.” He steered her towards a cocktail table. “Perhaps I could bring you a drink, my dear?”
She smiled. “I’d like that,” she said.
He gave her a bow, and she giggled again. “Anything in particular?” he asked.
Sango shrugged, her eyes dancing and bright. “Surprise me,” she said. “I trust you.”
Miroku leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back,” he told her. “You people watch.”
Sango watched as he turned and disappeared into the throngs that filled the ballroom. Her eyes scoured the room for anyone that they might know, but there were so many people, all talking, eating, drinking, dancing...it made her tired just watching, to be honest. Parties had never been her thing, but she had been excited to have a night out. However…
Sango reached into her tiny, sparkly purse and pulled out her phone. She checked it anxiously to see if there were any messages from Kagome about the children, but nothing. Sango sighed, her fingers itching to text the babysitter, but she knew that she couldn’t seem like an overbearing parent who didn’t trust Kagome to take care of her kids. Kagome was smart and capable. There was no reason to worry.
Right?
She put her phone away. She would check again in an hour, and if she didn’t hear from Kagome by then, she’d send a quick text.
Yes. That would be okay, wouldn’t it?
A large, sparkly drink was held in front of her face, as an arm snaked about her waist. The drink was...colorful, pinks and oranges and yellows, with an orange slice sitting on the glass, and a pineapple chunk and a cherry speared by a plastic sword. A pink umbrella topped off the drink.
Beautiful Artwork by MamaBearCat
Sango sighed, and turned to see her husband’s handsome face grinning down at her. “Really, Miroku?” she said. “What is with this drink?”
Miroku shrugged. “Can’t I spoil my lovely wife?”
Now she did roll her eyes. “It...it has an umbrella in it, Miroku. And a plastic sword.”
His grin got bigger. “Only the best for you, my love.”
Sango accepted the drink and took a sip. She was surprised to find that it was quite delicious: sweet, and orange-y, with a hint of lime and pineapple. “I can’t believe you got the bartender to make you something like this, babe.”
“Maybe he was bored,” Miroku deadpanned. “I asked him for a drink to impress a lady, and this is what he gave me.” He paused. “I hope you are...impressed?”
Sango took another sip. “It’s delicious,” she told him, and leaned back into his chest as she sipped it slowly, her brown eyes taking in the crowd, her lips playing with the hint of a smile.
They stood together, for several minutes, enjoying the quiet of each other’s bodies, even as the world spun by around them, faster and faster. The music picked up; it shifted from a casual jazz to something a little bit more upbeat, and when Sango finished her drink, Miroku took her hand. “Sango, my love,” he said, “would you like to dance?”
Sango nodded. “Yes,” she replied, “let’s do it.”
Miroku led her out to the dance floor, where there were a number of other couples already. He grinned, and took her by the waist; her arm went around his neck, her fingers tickling his hairline. Their free hands touched; Miroku led her hand close to his heart, and swept her into a beautiful, simple foxtrot that made her laugh and smile and almost forget about the three little children at home who she missed very much.
“What are you thinking about, Sango, my love?” whispered Miroku in her ear as they moved across the floor.
Sango turned her face slightly; their lips met in a sweet, soft kiss. “Just the children,” she replied. “I was thinking about how I almost don’t miss them anymore.”
Miroku smiled and held her tighter as the music swelled; he spun her out, keeping hold of her fingers the entire time, then spun her back into him, taking her hand and stopping her right as she turned into his tux. He dropped another kiss on her lips. “You can miss them, you know,” he whispered. “It’s the first time you’ve really been away from them; it’s the first time you won’t put them to bed. You can miss them. Just…” He looked around the room, then gazed meaningfully into her eyes. Sango shivered.
“Just don’t miss this, either,” he told her, and Sango smiled back.
“I won’t,” she said, making his eyes light up in response, “I promise.”
The evening passed swiftly; during dinner there was wine, and chateaubriand, and little round potatoes that burst in Sango’s mouth when she bit into them. They were seated at a table with Miroku’s Editor-in-Chief, Mushin, an elderly man with a kind face and a penchant for wine. Over the course of dinner, he must have downed at least six glasses—quite a number when compared to Sango’s two.
To Mushin’s right were Miroku’s Associate Editors who worked under him: Botan and Momiji, two bubbly young women with sharp eyes for stories and who delegated well. Miroku spoke highly of them, and Sango could see why. They engaged Sango in spirited discussion about Sango’s work as an English professor, gently admonished Mushin when he got too grumpy, and also teased Shippo, the sports editor, who sat to Miroku’s right, and who seemed to be constantly pushing Miroku’s buttons as they ate. Shippo was a kitsune, the first one Sango had seen in a long time, and he had a quick wit, especially when it came to her husband and his insecurities. Shippo teased Miroku about his ponytail, and his earrings (out for the night but not far from Shippo’s mind), calling him “Old Hippie,” much to Miroku’s anger and Sango’s delight. (Because secretly, she kind of agreed with him.)
The awards ceremony was predictably boring, except for when Mushin got up to accept the award for his department, and proceeded to wax philosophic about the “end of print” and the rise of digital media, and the horrors that he predicted would await them in the next thirty years if everyone didn’t subscribe immediately to a newspaper. He then proceeded to curse out the digital production department, the social media and marketing department, and all the writers in the room who didn’t write their first drafts freehand. Miroku and Momiji charged the stage and dragged him off, Botan disappearing out of the grand ballroom after them.
Typical , she thought, taking a bite of dessert and sipping her wine. Miroku running off, leaving her, and sure, it was to help his boss, but still . He’d jumped up and gone for Mushin without even a look, or a glance in her direction, and after all, wasn’t she there with him ? Shouldn’t he be looking out for her ? And sure, his boss was important too, but…
“Why such a glum countenance on such a beautiful face?” Miroku’s amused voice from behind made her jump. She turned, and there he was, standing behind her, grinning at her surprised, huffy look.
“I—I wasn’t expecting—I wasn’t—” Words were apparently difficult for Sango in this moment.
“I’m sorry I left you,” Miroku told her, holding out his hand for her to take. “Will you allow me to make it up to you? Perhaps with a little more dancing before we call it a night?”
“But what about Mushin?” Come on, Sango, no one gives a shit. Least of all you.
Miroku chuckled. “Called him a cab and sent him home. He’ll wake up tomorrow with the biggest headache, and he won’t remember a lick of what happened here tonight. And then we all get to deal with him on Monday asking what happened and how did he get home.” He smiled down at Sango. “Come on,” he said to her, “dance with me, so I can forget all this nonsense and spend the waning minutes of the evening with my lovely wife, instead of thinking about my idiot boss who can’t hold his liquor.”
Sango took his hand, and allowed him to help her to stand, and then out onto the dance floor. The hour was late, and some of the partygoers were starting to leave, but Miroku and Sango stayed on the dance floor, pressed close together, as these hours and minutes alone together were precious, and would come to an end all too quickly.
But Sango couldn’t help but wonder: would there be a way for the evening to keep going? When they got home, the children would all be asleep, and she would pay Kagome, thank her profusely, send her on her way, and then… what?
They would have the rest of the evening to themselves.
And the thought of that—just the mere thought—heated Sango’s insides and made her desire her husband even more.
She was suddenly very aware of him: his warm hold as they danced, his breath tickling her ear, his body, still firm and hard even after all these years, her body, in the filmy dress, pressed up against him…
Hot. She was very, very hot.
“Hey, Miroku,” she breathed; it was her turn to have her breath tickle his ear, and he shivered, “do you...do you wanna get out of here?”
His chest vibrated with his chuckle. “Why, Sango,” he whispered, “would you like to continue our evening at home... alone?”
She reached up and turned his face to hers; his indigo eyes were amused and dark with desire. “Yes,” she replied, kissing her husband deeply and not caring who saw, “I want to continue our evening... alone.”
“Then,” he whispered sensuously against her lips, “allow me to get our coats, and we will move this party back to Highland Park.”
Sango nodded, and Miroku let her go to leave the ballroom, but suddenly, he froze. “What the…?” he said, and pulled his phone out of his tuxedo jacket. “Miroku Hoshi,” he said. He paused. “Oh,” he added, “hi, Kagome.” Sango’s heart froze. “How is everything?”
Sango’s mind became a sudden whirl. She’d...she forgotten the children; she hadn’t checked in on them all night; she was a bad...no, the worst ...mother in the whole world; who forgets their children to have a night of fun?
“What is it?” Sango insisted, trying to take the phone. “What’s wrong?”
Miroku put a hand on his wife’s shoulder and gently pushed her back as he listened to Kagome talk. “Is...is that so?” he asked with a sigh. “And then he did what , exactly?” He listened again; Sango’s heart, she was sure, had completely stopped.
“Okay, Kagome,” he said at last, “I appreciate you letting me know. We’re heading home now anyway, so we’ll see you in about an hour or so...yes, yes we will, thanks.” He disconnected the call, tucked his phone back inside his tux, and smiled at Sango, beleaguered.
Sango couldn’t believe he was being so glib. They’d just gotten a phone call from the babysitter at 11:00 at night! The...the children could be...
Everything’s fine,” Miroku said, leaning forward to kiss his frantic wife’s cheek. “Or at least, it is now.” He paused, and reached out to take her hand, tugging her towards the exit.
“I’ll tell you everything on the way home,” he added, “but for now, let’s just say that the next time we hire Kagome, we definitely need to offer her hazard pay.”