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Up in the playroom in the Manse one day, all three kiddos and I are making a mess as we work on a papier-mâché project spearheaded by Penélope. The day before, she and Perdita and William all came up to me, eyes sparkling with excitement, so they could run a proposal for a very involved art installation by me. I immediately agreed to take them out to get supplies and brainstorm how to get started, but then, as these things go, I got easily roped into joining the fun.
Late in the afternoon, by the time we’re all elbow-deep in gooey and half-dried paper mush, molding grayish white gunk to our hearts’ desires, Joliver knocks on the playroom door.
“What’s going on in here—Oh shit—oh, sorry, bad me for cursing!” he rambles as he enters the room.
The kids all giggle and Perdita shakes her head, pointing accusingly at him with a messy finger. “Shut the door, Uncle Jolly! It’s a secret!”
“Oh, I apologize profusely, kids, Madam,” he says as she closes the door and blinks at us. He walks over to the dropcloth on the floor where we’ve been on our knees sculpting for over an hour. He places his hands on his hips and wrinkles his brow. “What on Earth are you making—”
“Arrakis!” Penélope corrects. “What on Arrakis, you mean.”
Joliver looks to me, shrugs as hard as he’s ever shrugged. “Is this… oh, oh my, it’s one of those creatures from your dad’s movies—”
I stand up, stretch my arms and arch my back, feeling the vertebrae snap, crackle, and pop. “Pen was inspired to decorate the playroom with a sandworm.”
“Isn’t it cool?” William says, jumping up from his position smoothing out the tail end so he can run over and hug Joliver’s waist, getting bits of goopy paper on his shirt.
Always sanguine when it comes to my kids’ antics, Jolvier gamely laughs and hugs him back. “Yeah, this looks like it will be a real masterpiece.”
Penélope wipes her hands on a towel and walks over to the wall, spreading her arms to emphasize her vision. “It’s going up here, and then running along onto the next wall, and we’re painting it gold!”
“Wow!” Joliver says, clapping his hands. “You are quite the production designer.”
My eldest daughter beams, blushing as she returns to her place adding texture to the front end of the sculpture with her fingers.
“Denis’s buddy Patrice is her hero,” I explain, stepping over the worm to stand beside Joliver and get a look at the whole project at once. I put my hands on my hips and smile. “Yep, that’s definitely a worm.”
Joliver nods, crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s a beauty.”
I touch his shoulder and reach up to kiss his cheek. “You think you could do us a ginormous favor and bring us some seltzers?”
“I want lime!” Penélope says.
“I want cherry lime!” William adds.
“Do we have mojito flavor still?” Perdita asks.
Joliver winks at me. “She really is your daughter,” he says, then returns my kiss. “What would you like, Madam?”
“Pamplemousse.”
“Coming right up.”
***********************
Later that evening, right before dinner, I am washing my hands in the bathroom, still finding little bits of white pulp residue sticking under my nails. So focussed am I on tediously flicking them out that I startle when Denis comes up and hugs me from behind.
“Jesus, boules de merde,” I half laugh, half hiss, closing my eyes as his arms snake around me and pull me against him. I arch my back and take a deep breath as he hums his apologies.
“Désolé, ma femme,” he whispers, his voice dipping down a register, dripping with a polite lust. He kisses my temple twice. “I thought you would be happy to see me home early, pour le dîner.”
I smile and sigh, reach behind me to try to grab at his bum through his jeans. I give both his buttcheeks a pat. “A lovely surprise,” I say, already looking forward to whatever attentions he intends to shower me with later.
Denis slowly spins me around and hugs me again, kissing the top of my head. “Tu sens merveilleusement bon.”
I giggle a little, tilt my head and look up into his eyes, instantly notice a cheeky question in them. “Quoi de neuf, mon cher?”
“Oh, Je me demande quoi…” he begins, his brow wrinkling, “why the kids do not let me into the playroom?”
“Oh, that! Well… c’est une surprise.”
Denis smirks. “—Madam, I know you know—”
I nod and shrug. “—I made a promise not to tell anyone, especially not you—”
“Vraiment?” I he says, chuckling. “Especially?”
“Especially,” I repeat. “—Don’t try to read my mind—” I add, then step aside and past him into my master bedroom toward the door, yawning. “Gosh, I hope I make it through dinner. Andrew promised shrimp n’ grits tonight.”
“Madam?”
“Yes?” I reply, turning my head just as I reach for the doorhandle. “Autre chose?”
Denis walks over to me, smiling warmly as he takes my hand from the handle, studies it as his mind projects into mine. “—My love, I hope it would be OK if you allow Ryan and I to go on a trip together? Just for a few days alone? We wanted to ask first—”
I blush at his dutiful tone and squeeze his hand. “—Sweetheart, you don’t need my permission to take your husband on a little vacation—”
“—Our husband—” he corrects, smiling wider now. “—I need to borrow your half of him for a little while—”
I laugh, reach up to touch his face. “When?”
“The long weekend coming up.”
I nod, intuiting that President’s Day doesn’t mean anything much to my Canadians. “Go ahead. Where are you going?”
“Montréal, bien sûr,” he says. “We will go ice skating together.”
“That’s sweet,” I say, then kiss his cheek. “—Is there anything I should know?—”
Denis shrugs, still smiling with his eyes. “—I think Ry is a little anxious. The premiere of his big new movie is only a few weeks away, really—”
“—Yeah, that’s true, poor boy. He’s so good at press tours but they really take it out of him—”
“—I will try to relax him—”
“You do that, then,” I say out loud, then catch his gaze. “Maybe by the time you get back, our little art project will be finished,“ I add, and then my eyes beckon. He kisses me then, in my favorite way. His hand slides up between my breasts and lays upon my heart, which is pumping twice as fast as usual. He’s been so preoccupied with post on Part Three that it’s been a while since he’s been so attentive, so sensual.
“Fils ou fille?”
“Je sais pas.”
He kisses the corner of my mouth. “—Another surprise?—”
I nod gently, kiss him back. “—Stay with me tonight? Up here?—”
His warm brown eyes fill up with anticipation. “D’accord amoureuse.”