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“They’re home, they’re home!” William calls out as he runs down the mezzanine, heading for the stairs. “Papi and Papa are coming!”
I emerge from the master in time to yell, “Freeze, right there, buddy!”
William obeys, staring at me from the top step, breathing hard. “But Momma—”
“But nothing, hold tight, don’t run!” I say, speed-walking toward him. I take his hand and lead him calmly down the stairs. Soon enough, the girls come careening from the living room into the foyer. “Hey! Attendez you two!”
Penélope and Perdita reach the front door just as it opens, and Ryan and Denis come inside, hauling their carry-ons with Joliver right on their tails. I let William’s hand go and he rushes over with the girls to greet their dads with equal levels of enthusiasm. I slowly walk over as the initial hugs and kisses are exchanged.
“We missed you!”
“Did you bring us anything?”
“When are you taking us to Canada?”
“Alright, cool your jets, kids,” I say, stepping between them to give my husbands welcome kisses. “Let them get inside and go to the bathroom or something before you start with the interrogations.”
“But we need to show them the project!” Penélope insists, still squeezing Denis’s hand.
“Thanks for picking them up,” I say to Joliver. “They could’ve gotten an Uber or whatever.”
“No, it’s my pleasure, Madam,” Joliver says. “It’s nice to catch up with them on the drive home.”
“Yes, we understand you did finish the project after all,” Ryan says, grinning. “I can’t wait to see it.”
“Yes, yes, yes, ven y mira! Come and see!” Penélope says, about to jump right out of her socks.
I give my husbands a questioning look and they both respond with big smiles, more than game for such an exciting reception. I shrug. “Alright, head on up, then.”
Perdita and William take one each of Ryan’s hands and lead the way as Penélope tugs Denis behind them. Joliver hooks my arm with his as we trail behind.
“This is going to be fun,” he whispers.
I nod and kiss his cheek. “Thanks for helping with it, and keeping it under wraps. But we’ll have to debut it to everyone else soon.”
Joliver nods. “I already arranged that. Everyone’s been given a memo to check it out after dinner.”
“You’re a star.”
Soon enough, we all parade up to the playroom and the kids stand before the door in a row, grinning and giggling, but then Penélope claps her hands to get our attention.
“We welcome you to be the first to see our special art installation, which we have named ‘Serena Shaniqua Butler: Golden Goddess of the Manse.’”
Both Denis’s and Ryan’s eyes widen with exaggerated amazement and anticipation.
“Close your eyes! Close your eyes!” Perdita demands.
Denis nods, shuts his eyes and Ryan covers his face with both hands before William opens the door. Joliver and I carefully guide them forward into the room, which has been mostly cleaned up from the leftover bits of construction and the usual playroom mess. At least there’s nothing on the floor for anyone to trip over as we guide them to the center of the room.
“OK, open your eyes!” all the kids say at once.
Joliver and I watch with glee as Denis and Ryan take in the magnificent monster now adorning the corner of the room. The big, winding papier mache worm is at least 20 feet long, starting on one wall, bending in half into the corner, with its tail end curling onto the second wall. It’s painted bright metallic gold, textured like real worm skin. Its mouth is actually the big gold starburst wall clock that was already in place.
“Wow,” Denis says, almost breathlessly, his jaw hung open as he steps closer to reach out and touch its rough surface. “It looks like… ça ressemble exactement à—”
“Le ver dans votre film!” Penélope says, completing his exact thought.
“They modelled it after the one in the Arakeen palace,” I add. “They studied the picture in the movie book for days to get it right.”
“Holy crap,” Ryan says, spreading his arms at the sight, then he looks to the kids. “This is incredible! It’s beautiful! What a cool idea!”
Denis continues to run his hand over the body of the worm, speechless. I walk over to his side and notice that his eyes are filled with tears. I touch his shoulder and he smiles at me. “C'est magnifique. Absolutely amazing…” He turns around to address the kids, holding both hands to his heart. “Mes enfants, merci infiniment. You did a beautiful job. I did not guess what it was going to be at all.”
Ryan laughs. “Yeah, we were wondering the entire weekend but never came close to thinking of a giant worm.”
“Shai-Hulud,” Penélope corrects, proudly crossing her arms over her chest.
“Serena Shaniqua… Butler?” Ryan says. “What kind of name is that?”
Denis laughs. “Serena Butler is the woman who started the Butlerian Jihad 10,000 years before the story of Dune begins.”
“But Shaniqua was my idea,” I say. “I just like the name.”
“Wasn’t it some old song you mentioned?” Joliver asks.
“Yes. It’s so dumb and obscure and so funny. It flows well with Serena, though.” In that moment, I glance over and see Denis’s thousand-yard stare, which re-focuses on the kids almost as soon as I notice it.
“Well, I think I can speak for all of us to say we are very proud of how you all worked together,” Denis announces, kneeling down to hug all three of our kiddos at once. “Merci, my loves.”
Ryan squats down and joins them, kissing each of their heads in turn. “We couldn’t be more proud.”
***************
After dinner, the even bigger reveal for the rest of the Manse Dwellers somehow turned into an art gallery vibe with the champagne (and sparkling grape juice for the children) Tilda and Joliver insisted we drink while we admired all the other little drawings and paintings the kids had taped to the walls. For a good hour, we enjoyed the rare occasion of practically everyone under our rooves in one place and caught up on all kinds of news. To my surprise, the kids requested a screening of Dune in the theatre room, and everyone agreed to join in on the fun.
Swept up in the champagne, the excitement, and the popcorn-making, I lose track of Denis and end up watching half the film before noticing that he had slipped away at some point. Instantly realzing why, I sneak out under the pretense of needing a bathroom break and take up a search for my missing husband. My instincts lead me up to my master balcony, where indeed, I find Denis standing at the railing, staring off into the swiftly darkening horizon, a half-full glass of red wine in one hand. The breeze is cooling just as swiftly as the light is waning, and I toss on a cardigan before steeping outside to join him.
“Still can’t bring yourself to watch it again, huh?” I say softly as I approach him from behind.
He turns, slightly startled, but immediately smiles, holds up his glass. “I am with you all in spirit.”
I smile and step beside him, wrap an arm around his waist as he rests his free arm around my shoulders. He kisses my cheek and sips from his glass, then sighs, studies the last remains of the day dipping down below the trees. For a long minute, we’re silent, not even reaching out with our minds to communicate a single word, but I can’t help sensing his unease.
“Tout va bien, mon rêveur?”
Denis absently rubs my shoulder, lets out the big breath he was holding. “You will be upset with me for saying this, chérie, but…” He looks at me, his lips tightening. “—I’m just so overwhelmed at the moment, by the emotions that came from the childrens’ dedication, the faith and trust they had in their process. I suppose I’m a bit jealous—”
“—But why? You’re as passionate as they, where do you think they got it from?—”
He shakes his head. “—Before I proposed we go on our trip, I was a bit stuck in the editing room, and I needed to clear my head. But now I am back, and I have to meet up with Joe again and face my fear head-on…—”
As he trails off I hug him fully with both arms, rub my cheek against his chest, drawing from his naturally hot Canadian blood in this cool evening. “—We have faith in you even when you don’t. You will figure it out, I’m sure of it—”
“—I would hate to disappoint you, Madam—”
“Denis, amoureaux,” I say, reaching up to cup his cheek in one palm. I hold his gaze, search his dark eyes. “—You need only to please yourself in this. It’s worked before. Don’t lose sight of your vision because you doubt I will understand something. Do it for you and your team—”
He blinks, shakes his head. “I am afraid of the pot, especially if you throw it at me.”
“I will only throw it if I think for a second that you didn’t give it your all. If you didn’t open your heart to it, if you didn’t learn from it.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, but the smile creeps back into the corners of his mouth. When he opens them to focus on me, they twinkle with the last light of the sun. “—I am diving deeply into another intense phase of the process, my love. I am afraid I will not have as much time with you and the kids in the coming weeks—”
I shake my head, hold his face between both hands now. “Do what you must,” I say aloud, but then my heart clenches. “—We will miss you very much, yes, but we will understand. You are so important to so many people. Don’t let off the throttle now—”
“—It still feels like we’re at the bottom of the mountain—”
“—You’re higher than you think. You’re going to make it—”
Denis smiles for real then, a few tears gently streaming from the corners of his eyes. He nods, rubs my back, places a firm kiss on my lips. “Merci, ma femme. J'apprécie votre soutien.”
“De rien, mon mari. Je t’aime tellement.”
He kisses me again, warmly and softly, heating me up form deep inside. Then he looks into me again, his stare more serious. “—I know why you are carrying for so long, my love—”
I hold my breath and blink at him, surprised at my own pang of fear. I wonder if he knows something in me more deeply than I know myself.
Denis sets his glass on the railing post, uses both hands to caress my face, his thumbs wiping at the tears just forming in my eyes. He licks his lips. “Vous êtes vulnérable… for both of us right now. We’re both working hard on things that mean a lot to us. Je comprends parfaitement, amoureuse. I will say, do not rush it. Do not rush yourself. You are at the beginning, and I am near the end. But you believe in me, and I believe in you. It will be born when it will be born.”
I sniffle, swallow a sob, feel it catch in my throat. I nod, wipe at his own tears. “Thank you, Denis. I cannot thank you enough.”
“Sayyadina,” he whispers, kissing my wet cheeks, “in so many ways, you already have.”