We didn't spend much more time at the Deacons'.  It was getting late, and we didn't want to push the envelope too much, overstay our welcome.  What was more, I was fairly sure Freddie had drunk a little too much wine and vodka (it's so dangerous to mix one's alcohol), for he had started talking even more nonsensically than usual: making obscure references to some Japanese "ceremony," joking about going to Harrods and buying eleven children ("five mini-mes and six-mini-yous"), laughing heartily at pretty much anything anyone said.  Not that I particularly minded.  I much preferred him tipsily merry, as opposed to sober and mortified.  

I would, however, have liked to say more to John- I came so close to telling him what I was planning to do.  It would have been excellent practice in case I could actually summon up the courage to tell Freddie.  But instead, I had to resort to a brief (and in retrospect, rather confusing) note on the back of one of our pictures, which I gave John as I kissed him good night. 

As we pulled away, John seemed to follow us for a few paces, as though he too wanted to say something.  Nevertheless, his hands stayed down by his sides, his lips sealed.  I waved into the rear window, but we were turning the corner by that point, so he likely missed it.

One more night with Freddie remained- a night that in many ways would be the sweetest, and in countless others would go down as the most heartbreaking yet.  For as weak and emotional as I had become, I'd indeed made up my mind, chosen my path: I had chosen the Relic, the way out, just as I had in my magenta dream.  Life over love.  The hard part, however, would be sticking to it until noon tomorrow- which more than likely meant there would be no wild, intense love-making later. 

That was my initial plan, anyway.

Maybe, if I was lucky, the Relic might have already exhausted all its battery power before we came home.  Then I would be deprived- and yet, spared- making this choice, and I could resign myself to being stuck in the past, as I had before Freddie gave it back to me.  One option was much easier than two. 

God, why did I have to be so stubborn?  If I had been wearing my tracker this morning, if I had been obedient, I wouldn't have to go through tonight.  But no!  I had to be Freddie about it.  And now I will probably have to tell him.  But how?  HOW? 

I had to let this go for the moment, if I was to make the most of my few precious hours left.  Besides, there was no way I could possibly break it to him before we got home-

Stop calling it home, stupid!  I berated myself.  That'll only make it worse!

Unhappily I twiddled with the ring on my thumb, eyes on my lap.

"Darling, are you," Freddie gasped facetiously, "wearing earrings?"

Up, mask. 

I smiled, hand rising to my ears.  "Rudy gave them to me.  Aren't they lovely?"

"I think they're Cartier stock," he said, peering closer.  "I've seen these before.  Yes, quite beautiful- a wonderful choice, dear!"

"Rudy has excellent taste," I agreed.  "Thank you again, Mr. Barnes!"

Rudy adjusted his rear view mirror so he could make eye contact with me, and winked.  He whistled innocently while keeping his eyes focused on the road. After a moment I realized he was whistling a much faster, bouncier version of a tune called "It Was Almost Like a Song."

I laughed.  "That isn't Ronnie Milsap you're whistling, is it?"

Rudy shrugged, clamming up.  "I, uh- perhaps."

"Where'd you hear that song?"

"Heard it a few times while we were knocking about in America- and it played earlier on your little device, so-"

"Who are we talking about?" Freddie asked, feeling out of the loop.

"Ronnie Milsap," I said.  "He's a singer."

"I gathered that, I'd just never heard of him before."

"Country artist."

"Oh.  I see."  Freddie sort of wrinkled his nose.  "Rudy, we need to talk."

Suddenly I had an idea.  "I like him, too!" I chirped enthusiastically.  "In fact, I feel like listening to him now, if nobody minds."

Freddie pretended to growl deep down in his throat, but he shrugged as well.  "All right, my little American rustic, go ahead."

"Rustic, eh?"  Arching my brow, I searched my playlist for a good one.  "Is Rudy an English rustic for liking him, my prince?"

Freddie's eyes gleamed.  "No, not a rustic.  He's just confused.  Hence, why we need to talk." 

"Freddie, I love you, but you're a snob.  Here we are, this one's the greatest," I announced.  I pressed the Play button.  Right before Freddie's very eyes I started swaying playfully to the music, and made a silly little duckface. 

"Well, you can walk out on me to-night/ If you think that it ain't feeling right," I mouthed along with Ronnie, "But darling,/ There ain't no getting over me."

I wasn't intentionally trying to annoy Freddie, I just wanted to subtly inform him that even taking into account all the things we did have in common, we were still so painfully different.  Perhaps by calling attention to that, I could wear off the luster of whatever shining quality he saw in me- remind him I really was just, as he himself had called me- a young, excessively analytical "American rustic"- and thereby soften the blow of my departure.

Casually I threw him a glance, wondering if I could read his expression for any annoyance.  But only his eyes were visible to me; the bottom half of his face was covered by the Android, which he held up in front of him.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Freddie shook his head.  "Nothing."

I stopped dancing around.  "Why don't I believe you?"

"Because you know I'm lying."

"So what are you doing?"

"Filming you."

I frowned.  "Hey, I never showed you how to do that!"

Freddie smirked.  "I can learn things on my own, too.  Again, I'm not entirely dim."  He tapped the screen.  "Let's have a look, shall we?"

A few more quick swipes, and I watched with a slight flush in my cheeks as I demonstrated just how silly I can appear if I really put some effort into it. 

"You naughty thing," I exclaimed.  "That's exactly what they told me not to do, is take videos of anything."

"Who's they?"

"K and Company."

"Darling, that's only an issue if you go back," Freddie sang.  All of a sudden his voice became serious, and he asked, "Are you going back?"

Leave it to my prince to put me on the spot this way.  So I said evasively, "What makes you think I'd go back?"

He looked me over.  "I'm just making sure.  Earlier I wasn't-" he started to explain, when Rudy swerved to narrowly miss a pothole, sending us flying into the side door (for neither of us rebels were wearing seat belts).  I tumbled against Freddie's chest.

"Sorry," Rudy called.

Freddie shook his head.  "On the contrary," he said, setting the phone on the middle seat beside me and wrapping his arms around my middle so I couldn't sit back up.  "This is much cozier." 

With a smile, I rested my head on his shoulder.  "Indeed."  For a minute we were quiet, save for me mumbling the lyrics along with Ronnie: "You can tell everyone that we're through/ and you might even believe it, too-/ But darling, there ain't no getting over me./ Sweet darling, there ain't no getting over me-"

"Has this song come out yet, darling?" Freddie asked.

"No, not yet.  It will in a few years though."  I looked at him.  "Don't tell me you like it?"

"This isn't so bad, I admit," Freddie decided.  "I thought you were talking about those other, um-" He waved his hand around, as if grasping for the right words. 

"Like a Hank Williams type?"

"Right, uh- the ones with the cowboy hats, who spit all the time- and say 'dezarruss.'"

I rolled my eyes.  "You are never going to let me hear the end of that, are you?"

"I tell you what.  You get past your little yen for Richard Dreyfuss-"

"What!  Get over that sexy beast?  Never!" I cried.

Freddie snorted, tried to keep a straight face and failed miserably.  "Richard Dreyf- wasn't he in that shark film, too?"

"You mean, Jaws?  Mm-hm, he played Hooper."

"Yeah, that.  The one who went into the cage.  Darling, I just don't understand, what is the appeal?"

"What do you care?" I giggled.  "You're not jealous, are you?"

"If I said yes, would you answer me honestly?"

I shrugged.  "What I personally think it is... Dreyfuss kind of looks like my dad.  Lots of energy, kinda jumpy, and very sarcastic- like my father."

Freddie sighed in feigned defeat.  "Ah, well, I can't possibly compete with some, uh, reverse Oedipus complex-"

"It's called an Electra complex for girls," I corrected him. 

I was surprised to see he actually seemed interested.  "Oh?"

"And that's not even what I have, it's perfectly normal for girls to be attracted to guys just like their fathers- and guys tend to marry women that look and act like their mothers, so in small amounts, it's quite a natural phenomenon."

"I've never been attracted to any girl that looks like my moth-"  Freddie thought for a minute.  "Well, I guess she does kind of act like Mum."

"Who?"

"Mary."

I wilted a little.  Oh, yes, Mary.  Poor Mary.   "I'll go with that."

"But you don't act anything like her, you're very different."

I frowned.  "What do you mean?"

"You're- you're you, and, uh- the things I've seen you do, and heard you say- you're a completely different animal," he smiled.

"Well, I don't want to be your mother.  I want to be-"

"What?" He leaned closer.  "What do you want to be?"

But I only shrugged and smiled, keeping the answer unspoken as I sang the last lines.

"Oh, there you go again," he sighed.  "Playing coy right when things start sounding wonderfully scandalous."

To myself I finished the sentence, which would have fallen with a hollow, awkward thump onto the floorboards had I said it aloud.  My phone must have been stuck in a Ronnie Milsap rut, because the very next song it chose was "Any Day Now."  Before he could sing us another deceptively happy tune with sad breakup lyrics, I quietly turned off the music.  For the rest of the car ride I remained silent, in case the words still festering on my tongue should slip out when I wasn't looking. 

I can only imagine what you must be thinking of me right now.  But you have to understand.  Take into account all that's out there for anyone with the faintest curiosity to learn about this man.  He was wild and uncommitted- a slave to sensation.  I knew more than most people cared to know about him even before I crashed into his world.  I had forgotten none of it.  And still, despite the knowledge and the fear and the apparent futility of it all, I loved him.  I wasn't any less a Harley Quinn than I had been last night, after this beautiful, dark-eyed Joker conquered my body.  I loved him so much.

You want to know how much I loved Freddie?  Well, I'll tell you: enough to mean these six words with all my heart- and almost have the courage (or was it foolishness?) to say them aloud:

"I want to be your wife."

He was eleven years my senior (actually, fifty-one years, or fifty-one and a quarter, if we were feeling anal-retentive), mildly bipolar with an almost crushingly dynamic personality, insatiable in his sexual appetites.  And here I was, mooning over how perfect life would be if I was married to him.

In a completely perfect world, that is, I heard my own thoughts quickly add. I know, I know, there's no way on God's green earth you'd even consider it, Freddie.  Far be it from me to take that love you save for all of us and treat it like it was meant for me alone.  Even if it was, it would make so many people more miserable than happy, including you. Mary would kill herself, for one thing- and for another, there's too many guys like Joe and David around, plus the other numerous people just waiting in the wings-

STOP IT, ME!  I screamed inside my head. I know who he is, and what he'll be!  I GET IT!  But for God's sake, this is my last night with him!  Let it go!  Leave us in peace for once!

At last we pulled up beside his flat.  Rudy hopped out of the driver's seat and started our way.  In spite of my inner turmoil (what a luxury is peace), I put my hand on Freddie's knee. "Thank you for a lovely birthday," I whispered.

He just smiled. "It's not over yet."

Before I reply, Rudy opened the door and let us out.  I didn't feel like putting my shoes back on, so I scooped them up in one hand and gripped my Android in the other, traipsing down the wet sidewalk after Freddie.  Rudy stood guard as Freddie unlocked the front door and saw us inside.

"Thanks again, Rudy, for the earrings- and all your help this evening," I said once we were indoors. 

He bowed slightly.  "It's my supreme pleasure."

"Oh, one thing, darling," Freddie said as he was turning to go. 

"Yes, Freddie?"

He took my hand and held on tight.  "Did you really go all the way to Bath and bring this one back?"

Rudy shrugged, half-smiling.  "I suppose."

Freddie nodded.  "What do you think, Julia?  Is that deserving of a raise or what?"

"Oh, absolutely," I agreed.

Rudy looked astonished.  "I don't know what to say, sir-"

"My dear Mr. Barnes, don't say anything- least of all, 'sir'!"

"Right, right, sorry, sorry, sorry," he said.  "Is there anything else I can do for you two?"

"Yes- go home, get some rest," Freddie answered.

"And give the turtle some love," I joked.

Freddie turned to me.  "Turtle?"

"He hasn't told you about Clarence?" 

"Clarence the turtle?"  Freddie's mouth split into a that's so-cute grin. 

"Thanks, Julia," Rudy muttered.

I looked at the big man, now grinding his teeth in embarrassment.  "Oh- I'm sorry, was that a secret or something?"

"I think I'll step out now, if you've any other beans left to spill, I'd rather not be here to spectate," he sighed.  As Rudy turned away, very faintly, I heard him sing the song I'd turned off, "Any day now/ I will hear you say/ 'Good-bye, my love'-"

I squinted.  Wait a minute.  That was another eighties song.  "Hey, Rudy, how do you know the words to that?"

Freddie's driver blinked.  "I heard that thing play it once."

"When?  I didn't hear it tonight."

"Well, it played sometime," Rudy murmured briskly, drawing the door closed.  "Good night!"

And he disappeared, leaving Freddie, the cats, and myself alone in the flat.  I went upstairs then, presumably to put my shoes away.  But after throwing the wedges into the floor of the green bedroom's closet, I rushed to the nightstand, where my Relic lay face down.  Please, please, let it already be out of power.  Spare me this choice, dear Lord, it's killing me already.

But when I pressed a random button, my heart sank.  The monochrome screen faintly lit up and showed me how pitifully close to death the Relic had drawn.  But it was still operational, still perfectly capable of ripping me out of this world and bringing me home in the way of one last call. 

"Darling, what is this?" Freddie called from below.

I cleared my throat.  "Uh- what's what?"

"This parcel with the red ribbon wrapped around it."

"Oh," I laughed nervously.  "That's for you."  Good grief, I almost forgot about Yin and Yang!

Freddie sounded surprised.  "Me?  But it's not my birthday!"

"It's just a little something," I downplayed.  "And I do mean little."

I hurried back downstairs, my cheeks flushing.  However fitting I had thought the jade carving had been this afternoon, it seemed much more paltry now against the memory of every outlandish gift Freddie had given me.  What touch of pride I'd felt in buying it earlier was fully replaced by embarrassment.  Those glittering bijoux cast such brilliant glares in which everything else appeared frightfully shabby.

Freddie was shaking his head when I reached the bottom.  "What's this for, dear?"

"Just because," I said shyly.  "First off, though, there's a box of Godiva in the kitchen as well, so if you want to break into that later-"

"Ooo."  So cooing, he glided into the kitchen and came back out with the candy box in his hands.  Opening the box, he popped a chocolate into his mouth.  "Hey, these are those dark chocolate cherry things- my favorites.  How did you know?"

"Lucky guess, I suppose."  Information courtesy of Minsy, actually.  "I'm glad you like them- and the other thing you can open at your leisure, you don't have to open it now-"

"But I want to!  Come on, let's sit down over here and we'll see just how far overboard you went." 

"Look who's talking," I smiled.  "But it's really not all that big a deal, I just wanted to do something for you."

"Julia, really," Freddie purred, "you didn't have to do anything-"

"Well, you don't have to, either, but you do it anyway," I interrupted, nerves making my voice a little edgier than intended.  "I figure what's good for the gander is good for the goose."

Rolling his eyes, Freddie offered me a candy, saying he thought I "could use one," but I shook my head.  So we sat down on the sofa beside Tom, who stood and rubbed his head against Freddie's elbow.  The package containing Yin and Yang rested in his lap- a gift that seemed more and more paltry by the second.  But it was too late to take it back. 

Setting the candies on the coffee table, Freddie untied the ribbon and tore away the paper. 

I couldn't help myself.  In a low voice I began, "Again, it's not very much, I just-"

"Angel."  Freddie laid his finger against my lips and made me look into his eyes. "Relax."

With that, he lifted the box's lid, brushed back the tissue papers inside.  Eagerly he unwrapped the wood stand, which he set on the table.  Then he reached in and removed the wrappers from the jade cats. I was too embarrassed to watch; I kept my eyes focused on my lap.

Finally the rustling stopped; he was holding them in his palms.  After a moment, I heard him whisper, "Julia..."

"They're, uh, they're jade, apparently nineteenth century Chinese carving," I rambled apprehensively.  "Saw them in this little Asian antique shop and I- I thought of you, because you like that kind of Oriental, so-"

"Darling, they're beautiful," he murmured. 

"You're very kind.  I know they're not Cartier, and they're not Japanese, but they're yours to do with as you like-"

"Julia, stop it."  His voice, though still warm, was firm.

"Stop what?"

"Stop belittling yourself, my God- and stop acting like this isn't a nice gift."

"Well, I know you're used to-"

"F--- what I'm used to.  You know something?  You are the definition of what I am not used to.  All right?  And you, and the things you do- couldn't make me happier.  That goes for this also.  Julia, my dear, please stop worrying about what I'm used to, and, you know, just do what you do."  He smiled.  "Can you do that for me?"

I looked up at him and nodded.  "I guess so."

"Good," he sighed, then wrapped me in a hug.  Quietly I pressed my lips to his cheek.  It felt so safe in his arms, everything about him, from the scent of licorice to the feel of his chest as it gently rose and fell with every breath, filling my senses. I set all of it down into permanent memory, so that no matter what should happen, I would never lose what it felt like to be this close to him.

After a moment Freddie slowly pulled away.  He looked down at the cats again, tracing the engraved symbols with his finger.  "Perfect balance- Yin and Yang," he murmured, touching each cat's back, respectively.  "Is that you, and that's me?"

"Are we?" I asked. 

"I mean, I think so," he mused.  "See, look here.  The black cat's eyes are bigger, so that one would have to be you."

"And I just assumed the Yang cat is you because of the butterfly on its shoulder," I explained.  "And he's got that little smug smirk-"

"Oh, f--- off."

"It's true, look!"  I pointed at the white cat's mouth.  "He looks like he's just swallowed the canary."

Freddie shook his head, grinning- but he didn't dispute my words.  "Either way, it's a good likeness- and you're one of the few people I've ever met who gives gifts on their birthday.  Silly thing."

"Well, anyway, I hope you like them, and-"

He kissed me ungracefully on the lips, making a big "mm-wah" sound when he pulled away.  "Darling, I love them, I'm going to put them in a place where all the world can see and say, 'Look what my sweet kitten gave to me on her birthday, I'm the luckiest man in the world,' and watch them go green with envy. 

"Now!" Freddie announced, clapping his hands energetically.  "Time for your present!"

"My present?  But this dress-"

"Was meant for Las Vegas but it didn't quite work out as I'd first planned, so that doesn't count.  Come along!"

With that, he hopped off the sofa and strode toward the piano.  I was confused, but I followed him nonetheless.  Freddie fitted the cats onto the stand and set them on top of the big black grand, facing us.  He patted the space on the bench beside him, where I obediently perched a moment later.

"Right," Freddie began, cracking his knuckles.  "You've probably heard me playing bits of this over the past weeks, but I finally finished it today.  All that's left is the lyrics- and that's going to take a little more time."

"I'd like to help," I offered carefully, "should the need arise."

Freddie shook his head.  "I know you would- and could, but- if the words didn't come exclusively from me, came partly from you, the meaning of the song would sort of be lost, you know what I mean?"

"Why is that?"

"Because," Freddie coughed, "as far as this song is concerned, the words should be inspired by the same thing as the music.  And so they will be."

I watched the playful impishness vanish as he hunched a little over the keys.  Down fell those hands, the long fingers outstretched.  In seconds the flat rang with escalating music as he warmed up with a quick chromatic scale.  The notes hung suspended in the air for a little while until Freddie took his foot off the pedal.  And he looked at me.  My heart beat in double time, my lips dry.Oh, those eyes.

"This is for you," was all he said. 

Then he turned back to the ivories, and played his song.

I watched him in silence.  My cheeks burned, my body numbed.  True, he sang no words, unless "dah de dahs" counted as words.  But I knew exactly what song he was playing.  I'd know it anywhere.  I wasn't even surprised to hear him play this instrumental piece, as he'd been working on it ever since my arrival. 

Freddie was playing the completed piano instrumental of what would come to be known as "Jealousy", from the album Jazz.  It was a song I'd always thought of as Freddie's last real love ballad- the last of his songs to fit in the same gentle, lovelorn category as "Love of My Life," "You Take My Breath Away," and "Lily of the Valley."  Of course, he wrote other love-centered songs, but none of those which followed "Jealousy" possessed that same sweetness, that vulnerability.  There was always some impenetrable barrier, as though he'd traded a mask of plaster for a mask of iron- and invariably, I could hear a particular emptiness in his voice.

I had always loved this final, sincere lament for love lost to suspicion and doubt.  And I was just as enchanted as ever before, by the cascading music and Freddie's swift, large hands.  But my thoughts were only superficially bathed in this beauty.  All I could really think about was what he had said at the start.

He wrote "Jealousy" for me? 

But that's not possible, he must have already had a piece of the song in his head before I came along...

Granted, a thing or two sounded different.  For example, he ended the song differently from what I remembered; to my surprise, "Jealousy" ended on a resolved major chord as opposed to the open-ended minor finish from the record.  I kept my mouth shut about that, however, and waited to be addressed.

He folded his hands in his lap once he finished.  His head turned towards me, but his eyes were trained on the bench. 

"I, um- hope you like it," Freddie whispered.

"It's beautiful," I breathed.  "What's- what's the name?"

"I don't know yet," he said.  "So far, I'm just calling it the Julia song."

"'The Julia Song?"

"Right, because in the chorus here, in my head I keep hearing 'Ju-li-a, look at me now, Ju-li-a, you got me somehow, dah dee dee dee dee....' so things like that."  He shrugged, a little awkward smile on his lips.

I swallowed, unable to clear my throat of the lump inside it.  "You wrote that- for me?"

Freddie nodded.  "It's all right?"

I bit my lip and chuckled softly.  "All right," I repeated.  "Freddie, it's wonderful, I... I can't even describe it.  It's perfect."

He peered into my face, tucked one of the loose wisps behind my ear.  Two fingers lifted my chin so that my face was tilted to look at him. But I couldn't meet his eyes. 

Freddie began, "Julia-"

"One second, Freddie," I gasped, taking his hand off my face.  "I need a minute."

"Well, which is it?" he teased gently.  "One second, or sixty?"

I didn't answer him, instead hopping off the bench and running upstairs.  I needed to breathe.  Quickly I ran into Freddie's bedroom and threw open the terrace door.  The air was still muggy and warm from the rain, but I didn't care; I walked out onto the balcony and stared out into the night. 

Not too many seconds passed before I heard footsteps coming up the stairs.  Most people would take somebody suddenly running up the staircase and into a dark, empty bedroom as a sign that he or she wanted to be alone.  And yet, he approaches. 

But Freddie had it right.  I didn't want to be alone.  That's why I waited for him to join me.