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That irksome Dr. Hardy was always inquiring if Romana’s memory, along with all the rest of her aging body, was still in working order. Of course it was, she would tell him with a sniff of disdain. She doubted he asked these sorts of questions to his younger patients, many of whom couldn’t hold a candle to Romana when it came to being able to recall any- and everything requested of them.
Which is why it was all the more frustrating that she’d ventured out to Van’s shop that afternoon having forgotten her parasol. Now, granted, she was used to remembering because she always had to remind Lumina to take hers as well, and today was the first time Lumina hadn’t joined her and Sebastian in years, so she considered it a break in routine more than being forgetful.
Still, it was noteworthy enough for Sebastian to, when they had only just passed the property’s gates, offer to double back to the villa and retrieve the parasol. Upon his return, Romana thanked him but told him that when you’d seen as much in life as she had, some things weren’t worth remembering.
She remembered the important things! Like birthdays (Lumina’s and Sebastian’s, and that of her late daughter and son-in-law) and the story behind all the valuable pieces of art in her villa that she refused to let that nosy Van get his stubby hands on. Most recently, her memory was brimming with the lovely moments that had enriched her days at the villa since that young farmer had moved to Forget-Me-Not Valley.
Romana had hoped to see them either near Van’s shop or back at the villa, when she and Sebastian arrived shortly after four. Alas, their toddler was likely monopolizing most of their time, and so Romana, while disappointed, was hardly surprised that the farmer wasn’t present in the villa’s grand foyer.
What did surprise her, however, was who was waiting next to Lumina on the piano bench, and who stopped in the middle of “Chopsticks” when Romana cleared her throat loudly, announcing her and Sebastian’s return.
“Master Rock,” Romana said, as Sebastian departed to the kitchen to store the produce. “What a pleasant surprise.” Her authoritative stare shifted to Lumina beside him, indicating it was anything but.
“Oh, hey there!” Rock looked up, grinning. “Lumina was just lettin’ me tickle the ivories here to get the creative juices flowing.”
“I see that.” Romana sniffed as she shuffled closer. “Although, might I ask if it’s possible if your, er, juices could continue their flow elsewhere, for the time being?”
“Auntie?” Lumina spoke up, the confidence in her tone something Romana had yet to grow used to. “I was going to try my hand at making an early dinner for Rock and myself, but perhaps all of us could eat together, outside? It’s such a lovely day… Would that not be nice?”
Romana hesitated to use the term nice when it came to Rock but, while an occasional nuisance, he certainly wasn’t mean-spirited by any stretch. Lumina could do far worse than hanging about the likes of him, and she at least appreciated that Lumina had a positive effect on him instead of the other way around.
Most of the time, anyway.
“And what purpose would this serve?” she asked the both of them. Lumina wasn’t often keen to invite Rock over, although heavens knew he enjoyed inviting himself. “Am I to assume you’ve some kind of ulterior motive in proposing this?”
“Well…” Lumina started, giving away her guilt by momentarily glancing down at the floor. “O-Of course not, it’s exactly as I said, and—”
“Lumina! I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“I’ll say,” Rock muttered.
Romana, who was still in possession of her parasol, took a sudden step towards Rock—one he clearly didn’t anticipate for someone not born yesterday—and jabbed him with it. “Would you care to repeat yourself?”
“I’ll stay!” he replied, rubbing at the spot on his ribs that’d just been poked. “Dang, do you have a dagger fixed into that thing? Almost went right through my spleen!”
Romana didn’t care enough to bother pointing out she’d touched him nowhere near there.
“What Rock means, Auntie, is that it’d be the perfect opportunity for him to ask you all the questions he had for his book. If you’d like.”
“I think it’s a noble pursuit, Master Rock,” Sebastian said, emerging from the kitchen as Lumina finished her statement. “Even if Mistress Romana does not wish to answer you, I’d be more than happy to hear about your creative endeavors.”
Allegedly, Lumina was assisting Rock with a book he was writing in secret; he refused to share its drafted pages with anyone, other than Lumina, who was well-spoken enough that she could help him when it came to aspects such as spelling, grammar, sentence structure—basically, the whole blasted thing.
Romana had at first been certain it was all a lark, but Rock had now been working on it close to a year—if it were a fool’s errand, she trusted Lumina would have sensed as much.
Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to humor him—and if both Lumina and Sebastian were intrigued as well, how was she supposed to say no?
“I suppose,” she said. “If you’re willing to have put this much of your own time—and Lumina’s time—into it, I can invest a little of my own.”
“Oh, sweet, really?” Rock’s smile stretched wider as he looked between the three of them. “What about the grub, though, is that—”
“Yes,” Romana said crisply. “Yes, Rock, we can have light snacks and refreshments as well.”
“Niiiiice,” Rock elongated the word so that he sounded like a hissing snake. “Hey, Seb, what’s on the menu? You gonna whip up some of that iced tea you made last week? It was sick.”
“Oh, dear, it was what…?” Sebastian replied, alarmed. “It was never my intention to make you or anyone ill. I hope you’re feeling better.”
Romana sighed as Lumina intervened to explain the true meaning of Rock’s statement. At least if this discussion (which she was already regretting agreeing to) had a light repast, it would ensure brief moments where Rock was not talking.
After a bit (a lot) of persuasion (exasperation) from Lumina, Rock escorted her outside with an open parasol to protect her from the bright Summer sun. Lumina had Rock’s overflowing notebook cradled tight to her chest while Romana lingered a few steps behind, perfectly able to carry her own parasol. Beside her, as he always was, Sebastian held a tray of melon-berry salads and four glasses of iced tea.
The four of them were now gathered at the fountain, the two women sitting on its stone ledge with Rock and Sebastian on either side of them as the salads were passed around.
“Well, I guess I can spill some of the beans. Oh, thanks, Seb!” Rock took one of the glasses of iced tea. “So, right now the working title is ‘In Da House: Rock’s Guide to A Wonderful Party Life’. Kinda self-explanatory, right? It’s a combination memoir, novel, and reference guide!”
Romana didn’t ask how in the world that was possible, although she questioned whether Rock knew, either.
“See,” he went on after a long sip of tea, “I got so much down already because as you know, I’m a font of knowledge at my young, hip age, and Lumina’s helping me put it into some kinda order. But I thought maybe someone who’s been through waaaayy more than me could like, give me the scoop on how they got to where they are.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Rock,” Romana begrudgingly admitted. “Have you had any success with the other villagers?”
“Sorta! Like Takakura, obviously; he knows everything there is to know about farming which is like, a metaphor for life. Somehow. I dunno, it’s what he told me and I ain’t gonna argue.”
“Yes, quite good on you,” Sebastian put in, adopting a much more encouraging tone than Romana would have mustered. “I would highly suggest speaking with Mistresses Chris and Muffy, if you haven’t already; they’ve the experience of having lived and worked in the city for extensive periods of time.”
“Oh yeah, psh, I got that covered; Muffy’s met all kinds of creeps that have inspired some of the villains in this.”
Some? Romana arched a brow. Just how many paths did Rock’s book veer down?
“And Chris? Man, you wouldn’t believe the crazy crap she puts up with daily working in a male-dominated field.” Rock lightly elbowed Lumina next to him and gave her a smirk. “Men, am I right?”
In return, she shoved him, and Romana felt pride swell within her chest.
Rock, however, laughed it off. “Y’know, and besides the ladies, I picked Gustafa’s brain too. That guy’s just non-stop spittin’ straight facts about life. Especially if you visit him ‘round this time of day, then—”
“Rock, were you gonna bother asking Auntie Romana anything or not?”
“What, you mean about…?” He pointed to the crown of his head, at the part of his floppy blond hair, and not-very-subtly let his gaze single out Sebastian. Romana narrowed her eyes; this had better not be about that preposterous rumor Lumina had asked her about ages ago, if Sebastian wore a toupee.
“Rock!” Lumina exclaimed, while Sebastian muttered out an “Oh dear…”
It was up to Romana to, as per usual, take the reins of this runaway conversation.
“Master Rock, let me be frank. Seeing as I’ve not had the… privilege of skimming over what you’ve already written, I can’t speak to exactly what would benefit your manuscript.” To Rock’s credit, he was listening to her rapt with attention. “What I will say, however, is that no amount of anecdotes shoved into your work, no matter how colorfully you dress them up, will be of any value to your readers if you are coming off as though you are telling them how to… well, whatever it is you’re intending to impart to them, as opposed to simply revealing what you do know, and allowing them to glean from it what they will.”
“Uh…” For once, Rock’s confidence seemed to have deflated. He glanced into his near-empty glass before looking back at Romana. “Would it be too late to fess up that mayyyybe I don’t know as much as it seems like I do?”
“Even you know something, Rock.” Romana’s tone was harsh, more cutting than when she’d scolded him that one time he’d asked if he could borrow her vases for some game called “beer pong” at the Blue Bar. “Though you certainly go out of your way to prove otherwise. I’m wondering if you’re purposely missing my point.”
“It’s the same thing I’ve been telling you,” Lumina added. “That you have to tell your side of things too, not just any old story.”
Like a match being struck, Lumina’s statement triggered the flame of memory—one that Romana was reluctant to say didn’t burn bright every second of every day.
“Might I share something with you—with all of you, actually— that I don’t think I’ve ever spoken on before.”
“Now, Mistress Romana,” Sebastian started, a fretful note in his voice. He worried over her far too much, but she’d learned to take it in stride. “If it’s too delicate a topic, you mustn’t—”
“Oh, would you shush,” she interrupted, firm but not unkind. “It’s quite the opposite; if anything it’s a topic that’s all too natural to share.”
A slight exaggeration, perhaps; she hadn’t discussed this much with anyone recently, or even within the past several years. But then again, there’d been no need.
“See here: my late husband fancied himself something of a writer, too,” she said with fondness. “Now, in a… different vein than yourself, it would seem. But nonetheless, he liked to catalog our every journey. Wrote pages and pages full of accounts of our many travels.”
Before tragedy had struck, of course. But Romana had always taken a small solace in knowing he’d passed in the midst of them having done what they’d loved, together.
“But what is most important is this: he told his experience, his view of it all. He not only wrote it all down, but took photographs of it all. I’ve saved many, if not all of them, and would you believe: not a one is labeled. And that was intentional. Nor did every entry go into great trifling detail about our destination; you see, he simply wrote about his day as if it were any other—and often, that involved our time spent together. Now, some might say that sounds boring, so, let me ask you, Rock: what would you have to say to that?”
“I’d say no way; it sounds awesome. Sounds like my kinda dude, just goin’ with the flow of everything.” He looked ready to heap on more praise, but instead paused, as if a thought had struck him. “Huh, so it’s sorta like… it leaves you to fill in the details, doesn’t it? Because not every little thing is there, on paper or in the photo. You got it all,” he tapped enthusiastically at his temple, “up here, right?”
“Precisely.”
“Whoa, this is like, blowing my mind—but it all makes sense!” Rock was practically beaming; really, when he wasn’t trying to put on a show and acted with any ounce of sincerity, he was strangely tolerable. “Thank you, Romana… seriously, thank you so much! Could I repay you by adding in some kinda scene inspired by today, or would that be uncool? I promise, I won’t make you an evil witch or anything like that. If anything, you’ll be like a fairy godmother!”
“If you so choose, I can’t stop you,” Romana said, knowing her turning down Rock’s offer would hardly sway him from doing so.
“Or I could even dedicate the book to you and your bae—‘In Loving Memory: Romana and—’”
“Now, see here, Master Rock!” Sebastian put in. “Mistress Romana is still with us, and will be for many years to come.”
Lumina huffed as well, and Rock profusely apologized to all three of them, but Romana was hardly listening. She cut them all short by announcing it best, if that would be all, that she go retire back into the villa and allow Rock and Lumina the time and space they’d been expecting—especially now, with Rock’s newfound outlook, courtesy of her insight.
Romana got to her feet all on her own, insisting she could carry the parasol while Sebastian did the same with the empty plates and glasses he’d gathered together. Lumina and Rock piled together what fruit salad they had left onto one plate, aiming to share it while they paged through Rock’s notebook.
This meal had been a shining example of what her husband might have written about in his travel logs. The utterly mundane event somehow forever memorialized in his thoughts. A scene that she would love to relive over and over again, and knew she would, as she turned to check over her shoulder and saw that Lumina had scooted over to create enough space to spread out the notebook between her and Rock, with a little extra room for the salad, from which she stole a piece of strawmelo.
How could she forget today? With Lumina’s smile, fighting its way forth even through her irritation with Rock—and Rock, audacious as he was, pursuing what he thought would be most beneficial to those in the world around him. And Sebastian—her dearest friend—who, even while carrying the tray full of plates back to the villa, seemed to always provide the keenest and most steadfast guidance just by being there beside her.
Yes, maybe she would have occasional slips here and there—forget her parasol or shopping list, or what-have-you. But some moments were more precious than what could be captured by page and photograph; were more important. And they were what Romana would, for as long as she lived, always remember most.