Day 21: 37,022 Words... 5 Siblings and the Alan Mug

I have been dipping into back story to try to get to know my characters a little bit better, and I feel like I am getting somewhere! Today I included a family of 5 siblings you might recognize and finally included the Alan mug. I hope you enjoy these excerpts- I am sending them to you with love.

He had only known her a short while when he heard about the passing of her mother, his assistant placing a note on his desk along with details about the memorial service, asking if he wanted to send flowers. Despite the fact that he had grown up as a celebrated child actor, Josh’s own parents had had humbler beginnings, and he was raised with a strong working class ethos- and when someone died, you showed up. It was about showing respect, but it was also about the importance of community. We come together to celebrate and we come together to grieve. So when Josh saw the note, he booked a flight and attended the funeral.

               He didn’t make a fuss, that certainly wouldn’t do. He merely paid his respects, joining the queue to offer condolences to the family.

               “I’m sorry for your loss,” he had said, taking her hand when he reached the front of the line. Danae, who had been mechanically shaking hands, accepting hugs, and murmuring thanks looked shocked for a moment, squeezing his hand before releasing it.

               “I…” she said, searching for words, finally settling on a curt “thank you for coming,” and then, realizing how perfunctory it sounded, she had added “no, really, thank you.” And he could see that she meant it. He turned his attention to her sisters who stood by her side, equally shell shocked by their grief. They looked confused and smiled cautiously at each other, shooting questioning glances at Danae.

               “Oh my goodness… there are five of you,” he said. “This is quite overwhelming.” Danae smiled and introduced her siblings. He noticed that they all had the same smile, and had the habit of covering their mouths when they laughed. He might have supposed that they were nervously hiding their laughter, given the environment they were in, if he hadn’t seen Danae do it herself in other contexts. Also, there seemed to be just as much laughter as tears here. It reminded him of home. He had always known pain and laughter to be close relations.

               Seeing Danae with her family, he could see where she had come by her strength. They were clearly close, fiercely protective of each other, and high achieving didn’t begin to describe it. And funny. My goodness, they were funny, although their laughter did have a slightly deranged ring to it, as is so commonplace among the bereaved.

“I am equal parts terrified and delighted to meet you,” he finally offered, when he managed to get a word in. His grin, as usual was roguishly charming.

"We’re not for everyone,” one of the sisters responded, earning grave nods from all.

“Maybe an acquired taste,” he replied, “for the more sophisticated palate.” He winked, and he was one of those rare people for whom the wink communicates devilish charm, rather than lechery.

"Thank you Joshua Jones for coming to our mother’s funeral,” said another sibling, with genuine gratitude. He was touched. He leaned in and kissed them on the cheek, offering condolences to all before taking his leave.

               Although he wanted to stay, he knew that the more time he spent, the more likely it was that his presence would cause a stir, and he didn’t want that. But he did send flowers, the largest and most expensive arrangement the local florist provided. He had read in the obituary that Danae’s mother had loved pink, so he had selected a beautiful arrangement of white and pink roses, with a spray of hot pink carnations in the middle, his own mother’s favourite. He didn’t include a card, but a part of him hoped that she would know it was from him.

And the Alan mug makes an appearance...

As usual, Jackie had arrived at the bar before she woke. He moved as silently as a cat, that one, and was just as full of mysteries. But she realized she had come to love the cantankerous proprietor. He had been a true friend to her, and although this day was still like any other, and she had no reason to think it would end any differently than every other day she had spent there, she knew in her heart that the time was coming to say goodbye to this man, and this place, perhaps forever. The heart knows what the eyes cannot always see, what the mind cannot always understand.

His back was to her, but as she took her seat at the bar, Jackie turned and set a steaming cup of coffee in front of her, this time in a mug that bore the ominous words “Don’t Ask Who Alan Is,” and she took a sip without giving it much thought. Hadn’t she always known not to ask too many questions? It wasn’t that she wouldn’t be provided with any answers, but the opposite. Perhaps she didn’t want to know, wasn’t ready to know the answers. So she had not asked. And she had no intention of asking who Alan was. Some things are best left behind, and some mysteries are best left undiscovered.

Virgil entered the bar, whistling a tune she faintly recognized. If she hummed along for a bar or two, would the words come to her? She felt certain that they would, and with the words, recognition and maybe, just maybe… a memory. And just as soon as that certainty hit, Virgil was silent, standing in front of the bar, smiling his friendly, affable smile.

“Good morning, Virgil,” she said, raising her coffee cup by way of greeting.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said, winking pleasantly at her. It was rare for someone to pull off a wink, it usually came across as lecherous and offputting, but from Virgil, it brought a smile to her lips and put her in the mind of remembering someone else.

“Who’s Alan?” he asked, and it jarred her from her thoughts which were faraway, reaching for a memory that eluded her. There was a man with twinkling eyes and a handsome, devilish grin. Was it Alan?

“What?” she asked, her mouth hanging dangerously open. There was always a fly or two at Jackie’s Place.

“The mug,” he said, pointing at the mug she was still holding in her hand.

“Oh, right. Ha,” she said, but she didn’t feel like laughing.