Julia

Despite my lingering raw feelings, I couldn't help smiling. 

Ah, what an eternally smooth operator, I thought to myself, as I watched Freddie kiss Cousin Roxie under the mistletoe.  Perhaps my senses were over-heightened, but it seemed to me his movements were a tad rigid as they leaned in to her, almost reluctant. 

Then again, I'd been wrong about him before. Many times.  For example, I never expected him to apologize that night.  Granted, it didn't assuage everything I'd been feeling all day thanks to what he had said to me in the car earlier -no, not by a long shot- but it helped.  If nothing else, however, this afternoon's events made me worry just a tad more, how Freddie would take the news Stuart had just relayed about Speck's status.

I didn't immediately get it over with, however.  As soon as the door shut behind Roxie, Danny ran back into the front room, talking a mile a minute.  "Mom, Mom, you gotta check this out!"

"Hello to you too, sweetie," I managed, laughing as he grabbed my hand and all but dragged me out of the front room while Freddie looked on and smiled, poking his finger in between the bars of Farnsie's cage. 

"Has Fry eaten?" I asked.

He shook his head, "No, ma'am, I'll do that after this."

Once we reached my son's room, I said, "Danny, dinner's going to get cold, can you show me afterward?"

He ignored the question.  "Look!  Freddie's band!"  So exclaiming, he put a gold Queen Greatest Hits Compilation into my hands. 

I frowned.  "Where'd you get this?"  I thought I got rid of all my Queen paraphernalia years ago. And I had.  Books, records, CDs, drawings, you name it- I had disposed of them about the time Danny turned four years old.  The only remaining vestiges of "Freddie's band" were our hall pictures of the Deacons which I had packed away as a precaution, as well as everything I kept tucked away in that metal box in my closet.

"Lauren's letting me borrow it," he announced.  "Have you heard all this stuff?  It's amazing!  'Bohemian Rhapsody', especially- I listened to that three times already and it's so much fun!  Did Freddie actually write that whole thing?"

"He did," I nodded, maintaining a straight face as best as I could when his jaw dropped in complete awe.  I knew exactly what he was feeling, for I too was only nine when I heard "Bohemian Rhapsody" for the very first time.  And it was that selfsame occasion, as a matter of fact, in which I first became acquainted with the name of Freddie Mercury, so I suppose you could say "Bo Rhap" served as quite the milestone in my funny little life.

"Did he write all these songs?" Danny asked, moving his finger across both track lists.

"No, but he wrote a lot of them," I replied, then added silently with a smile, He wrote all the good ones.

"Did he write this one?" The boy pointed at a track.

"Danny, your finger is covering the- oh, 'Crazy Little Thing,' yes, that's Freddie's song."

"What about this one?  'Another One Bites the Dust'."

"No, that was J- uh, the bass player's song.  He wrote that."  I clutched at my chest, took a deep breath.  Whew, that had been a close one. 

But not close enough.  "What was his name?"

"It should say in the booklet," I hummed.  Clearly either there wasn't a booklet, or Danny simply hadn't looked- for it would have answered all these and more questions. I hoped for the former."There should be pictures, and info-"

Danny shook his head.  "There's no booklet.  It's missing or something."

Thank you, Jesus.  "His name is John, just like you," I said, feeling a bit more secure.  John was Danny's first name, you see, but he only answered to the middle one.

"Hey!  That's like Uncle John, too!"

I smiled weakly.  "That's right.  Uh- come on, the food's getting cold." I more or less ushered Danny into the hall, and quickly before he could ask any more questions about the bass player in particular, deciding that any other questions about Queen would probably be better answered by Freddie himself.

"'Save Me' is kinda dumb, though," Danny announced suddenly as we walked into the kitchen.

"Oh, that's one of my favorites," I protested.  "It makes me sad inside, but I like it."

"But it's so slow.  I like the other ones better, they aren't like that.  But that's the only one that I don't like.  Don't tell Freddie, though, I don't want him to know."

"Too late," Freddie crooned playfully, stepping into view while he poured himself another drink. 

Danny's eyes widened.  "Oh, I'm sorry-"

Freddie rolled his eyes and waved his hand.  "Don't be.  After all, I didn't write the damn song.  Brian did."

"Who's Brian?"

"Brian plays the guitar.  Brian May."

"Really?  He's subarashii."

"Indeed- dare I say, ichiban, even." Freddie chuckled.  It was rather sweet, how much he and Danny enjoyed throwing Japanese words back and forth at each other.  "Extremely clever fellow, much more so than me.  He knows everything- except where fashion is concerned of course, I'm afraid I sort of eclipse him there." 

Danny looked at me.  "Did you meet Brian too?"

"I met the whole band," I told him. 

"In fact," Freddie cut in, "Your mum here's actually featured on one of our songs."

I didn't think Danny's eyes could get any bigger, but now they were practically filling up the lenses.  "What?"

"Now, that's not entirely true-" I began.

"Which song?"

And Freddie proceeded to tell Danny the story of how I and fourteen or fifteen other people had been recruited to stomp, stomp, and clap, in that order, for the world-famous rhythm track of "We Will Rock You."  My son listened, captivated, while he fed the dog his dinner and I waited patiently for the tale to end so I could go down and grab the food that Freddie had left on the coffee table by the television.

"So one could argue that without your mother's hands and feet, music history wouldn't quite be the same," Freddie concluded, bowing playfully.

Danny was beside himself.  "Mom, you're famous!"

"No, I'm not," I waved it off, "it was me and a bunch of other people.  Stomps are stomps.  Could have been done by anybody."

"Yeah, but still, it was you!  Wow!"

"You mean, your mother's never told you that story?"  Though the question was posed at Danny, Freddie was looking directly at me as he asked it.

"No, I never even knew she knew you!" Danny went on.  "I'd never even heard of you before till a couple days ago- but man!  You're the real ichiban!  What other stuff happened, Mom?"

"I'll tell you what I remember over dinner," I put in quickly, "which I have to go get from downstairs." 

I could feel Freddie's gaze follow me down the steps, could hear him asking me "why" even as he remained silent.  It was true, I had told Danny nothing of my adventures in 1977, but that applied to nearly everyone.  No one knew, except K, John, and Veronica.  Even Roxie was left mostly in the dark. 

Mostly.

Fortunately, everything was still nice and hot in their paper boxes.  As I came back up to the second floor, however, I heard a giggly Danny urging Freddie to do something that he clearly didn't want to do.

"Please, Freddie, one more time?" he was pleading.

"I said no, Mr. Phantom," Freddie said firmly. 

"But you did it for Cousin Roxie!"

"Because I had t-" He turned and saw me standing there.

"What did you do for Roxie?" I asked, confused.

Danny giggled.  "He does the best Agent Smith voice ever!"

I blinked, tried to register the words properly without bursting out laughing.  "What?"

Freddie shook his head.  "I don't know, some rubbish about some Agent Smith person.  Do you know what he's on about?"

Danny looked injured.  "Freddie, have you never seen The Matrix?"

I had to cover my mouth a moment a take a deep breath through my nose to keep from absolutely losing it.  This was too much.  "Uh- Danny, think about it, sweetie.  That movie came out in 1999, and Freddie's from 1985.  Do you honestly think he would have seen it before?"

But this didn't faze Danny one bit.  With a resolve that would have fit the man standing  beside him just as well, he put his hands on his hips and told us, "Then we should watch it right now."

"Danny, we're about to eat-"

"We can set the food up on the coffee table, like we do on Fridays!" Danny assured me.  To Freddie he said, "It's the best movie ever, after Ghostbusters and The Iron Giant.  I'll go set it up!"

I called after him, "Danny, I thought you wanted to decorate the tree tonight!"

"We can do that after," he called over his shoulder as he disappeared downstairs, singing as he went. "I want to ride my bi-cycle, I want to ride my biiike..."

I put my face in my hands, more than a little embarrassed.  Wow, I marveled.  And I thought he acted like his daddy before. Like father, like son, they say.  Good God.  All he's doing is stoking the fire.  At this rate, by the time Freddie leaves, I will have an absolute clone of him on my hands.

But now we adults were alone in the kitchen, with Modo still sifting at random through the playlist I'd made for Roxie whenever she would drop by; at that very moment Jim Croce was singing optimistically about how "Tomorrow's Gonna Be a Brighter Day."  Freddie lit another cigarette, breathed in, looking quite relaxed now.  Here was as good a time as any to break Stuart's news to him. With a long-suffering sigh, I turned to Freddie, who looked like he was having trouble holding back his amusement as well. 

"Would you like a drink, too, dear?" he offered.

"I'd love one," I nodded.  "Thanks."

"Mm.  That's what I thought."

While he poured, I cleared my throat, crossing my fingers in hopes that he would understand.  "Freddie, I've, uh- got some bad news."

He handed me my vodka.  "How bad?"

"I'll leave that to you to decide," I murmured quietly.

"Oh, now I'm worried," he quipped, tongue very much in cheek.  "Go on, then."

I didn't quite know how to start.  "Uh- well, I spoke to Stuart today-"

"My God, how horrible," he cried dramatically.

"I wasn't finished," I protested, "there's more-"

"You mean, it gets worse?  Worse than that?"  Freddie's eyes bugged, and he caught me in a would-be consoling embrace. "You poor darling, how do you stand it?"

I wiggled out of his arms.  "Would you stop trying to be cute for three seconds and let me finish?"

He swooped his arms around.  "Who's trying?"

Admittedly, he was indeed effortlessly cute, even then with those dark eyes gleaming with mischief- but mischief was the last thing I wanted at the moment.  "Freddie, I mean it.  You're not going to like this at all.  Brace yourself."

At last Freddie pulled himself together, made an attempt to be serious.  And so I told him, "Stuart told me that there's something else wrong with Speck, something they weren't expecting, so- you may not get out of here till Friday, by his estimation.  He's really sorry."

"I'm certain he is," Freddie hummed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Anyway, I wanted to let you know, and I hope you understand.  Believe me, he'll get you out of here as soon as possible.  And it will happen.  History hasn't changed, nor will it."

"Mm."  With a sigh, Freddie shrugged as if it was no big deal.  "Ah, well, I suppose that just lends us more time to spend on driving practice."

Wait, what?  "But- you told me you didn't want any more to do with learning how to drive."

"Pfft," he scoffed.  "Darling, I say a lot of things, you know.  It doesn't necessarily mean I mean them all."

I blinked.  "That's fine, but I also know you have absolutely no interest in driving.  And that's fine, but I don't intend to waste your time teaching you how to do something you will, first of all, not remember how to do in the future, and second of all, not need to do anyway because of cabs and Lyfts and Ubers and et cetera.  There's no point in it."

"There is for me," Freddie said quietly.

"I don't understand."

He blinked, took a step back as if I was cornering him somehow.  "I mean- for one thing, it does sort of give me something to do, and uh... it's a good thing to learn in the first place, and-"

"Freddie, it's okay, you don't need to explain.  Dinner's on, and it's just takeout I know, I wish I had had time to cook tonight, but Chinese isn't nearly as good when it's lukew-"

"And really- it's just an excuse to see you," he blurted. 

For a moment the only voice heard in the room belonged to Jim Croce.  It was all over Freddie's face that he wanted to take the words back, but he didn't. 

I waited in silence, still not quite believing my ears- and then, finally, he muttered, "That's really the, um- the only motive behind it, to be honest, because you're right, I still don't care about driving- but if I get to see you during because of it, while I still have the privilege of remembering- that's as good a reason to learn as any."

Dumbfounded, I opened my mouth- but to say what, I don't remember, because as soon as I did, Freddie quipped further, "Plus, it has the added benefit of tweaking that lovely Dr. Test Tube, so it's really something of a win-win scenario, I think."

I rolled my eyes.  "I wish you and Stuart didn't hate each other so much."

"Oh, I don't hate the man.  He's not worth that much emotion.  I'm just madly j-"

"It's all set up, you guys!" Danny hollered, interrupting our rapidly deteriorating discussion.  "Are we watching it or what?"

I shook my head.  "Did I say we were going to at all?" I called back.

"You didn't say we weren't!"

Danny, I swear, I groaned inwardly.  I turned to Freddie.  "Look, we don't have to watch it if you don't want to."

"Oh, come on, let's humor the fellow," Freddie sang.  "He went to all that trouble, we might as well."

You aren't helping, you enabler, you. 

"I know you're no science fiction fan, and it's really pretty violent, lots of guns and hand-to-hand; that's probably not your thing."

"Darling, I made it through Star Wars; I can make it through this," Freddie informed me.

I smiled.  "We'll see about that."

So down we went, but not before I collected Farnsie and set him on my shoulder.  Just as we sat down on the sofa, though, and Danny pressed "Play" on the DVD remote  I remembered.  "Oh, wait, we need forks."

Freddie frowned.  "What for?  They gave us chopsticks."

Chopsticks to me were like driving to Freddie.  "I never could quite master them."

"I did!" Danny chirped. 

Thanks a lot, offspring.  Now I look like a rube.

"Then I suppose I'm going to have to show you." Freddie smirked almost patronizingly.

"I'm good, thanks.  Keep it rolling, I'll be right back-"

"No.  I will not sit here and watch you eat this stuff with a fork.  That's an insult to the culture whence it comes."

I lifted my chin.  "It's a free country, this is my house, and I will eat with a shovel if I so choose-"

"Honey, if I have to learn to drive, the least you can do is learn how to use chopsticks.  Now sit down.  Right, let me show you.  Watch.  Hold your fingers like this- no, no, no!  My God, they're chopsticks, not daggers.  Okay, look, just give me your hand..."

**********************************************************************************************

I brushed imaginary dust off my hands, took a couple of steps back.  "Nice work, guys," I announced.  "I think that's the best our Christmas tree has ever looked."

Freddie came over to stand beside me and nodded in agreement.  "Not bad," he concluded.  "All it needs is the star or whatever."

"It's an angel, actually," Danny corrected him.  "Can I do it, Mom?"

"Just be careful.  I'll go grab the stepladder."  I headed to the garage, but not before hearing Danny ask Freddie to tell him one more story about 1977. 

The whole time we had been decorating the tree, Freddie had monopolized the airwaves.  Sometimes he was singing softly to the Christmas music, sometimes he was asking questions about the music (he found Michael Bublé especially intriguing, curiously enough), but mostly he kept Danny entertained with cute little anecdotes about Queen (the family-friendly stuff only), Japan, and our brief time together.

One especially interesting back-and-forth happened when Danny asked, "Freddie, what's with the crest?"

He absently hung an ornament on a branch.  "What's with it?"

"You know.  What's it mean?"

"Oh, that.  Well- it doesn't really mean anything exactly, it just seemed to bode for a band called something regal like Queen to at least have some kind of royal emblem. I designed that years and years ago."

"You did?"  Danny smiled.  That kid was so deeply caught by Freddie now.  I could see it in his eyes.

"It's really not all that, you know, heady, I just took each of our signs of the, um, the zodiac and threw them into a crest with a Q in the middle.  Each of the creatures in that crest represents each member of Queen."

"Are you one of the lions?" Danny asked.

"Oh, no.  The two Leos in Queen are John and Roger- they're the bass player and the drummer.  August birthdays, the both of them.  And uh- Brian, who plays guitar, is a Cancer, so he's the crab."

Danny nodded solemnly.  "Then you must be the goose, right?"

Freddie and I looked at each other, then broke down laughing while Danny turned quite red in the face.  Poor kid.

"You know, that big bird on top!" he explained.  "With the wings stretched out like this!" Danny spread his arms out to his sides as if getting ready for takeoff. 

"My dear boy, that's a phoenix, not a goose," Freddie answered.  "Didn't you see the fire under it?"

"So?"

"So, that's what a phoenix does."

"I don't get it."

"Surely you've heard of a phoenix before?  Know what they are?"

Danny looked blank.

Freddie sighed, and explained.  "Well, I'll tell you, then.  A phoenix is a lush, mythical bird- and what makes it so special, is when it dies, it burns itself up in its own fire till there's nothing but ashes- and then, just like that," Freddie snapped his fingers on "that," "it rises up again out of those ashes, and starts a new life."

My son was mesmerized- as was I.  "And that's your animal?" he asked.

"Not at all.  No."

"But that's the only other thing besides the Q."

"No, no, no.  At the bottom- see, I'm a Virgo, so there's actually two little fairies near the base.  And those represent me."

Danny chewed on that for a moment or two while he hung up another of the glass icicles.  Then he frowned.  "But that doesn't make sense.  Why would there be two fairies when there's only one of you?"

Freddie blinked.  "Well- it's more symmetrical that way.  Danny, it's just a sort of crest, it doesn't mean anything.  It's just a picture."

Danny shook his head.  "You're the phoenix," he decided.  "Because phoenixes are cool, and so are you- and plus there's only one phoenix in the crest, so that makes sense."

Freddie looked at me again, clearly wanting me to intervene.  So I did. 

"Why can't he be all three?" I asked.

"That doesn't make any sense either," Danny protested.

"Point is, it's a piece of art," I explained.  "It can mean anything you want it to mean."  Quoting  a line from The Matrix, then, I added, "Free your mind."

"Exactly; if you see it, then it's there," Freddie nodded.  "Understand?"

Danny shrugged, admitting just a tad reluctantly, "Okay.  Then to me, you're not the fairies, you're the phoenix."

Freddie opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it, perhaps realizing he had trapped himself in his own faulty logic.  He cleared his throat, fell silent, made eye contact with me.  And I just kept decorating the pine, humming to myself to hide my soft chuckles. 

I dragged the stepladder into the living room, placed it right beside the tree.  Seizing the white-winged, strawberry blonde angel, Danny climbed the steps and leaned precariously toward the spangled pine, reaching for the top.

"Careful," Freddie whispered. 

"I got this," Danny said, reaching ever further, standing on his tiptoes.  Then he looked down, losing his focus.  "Mom, who's Tom Jones?"

"What?"

"The guy you met in Ve- WHOA!"

He was teetering off balance, started to fall forward against our beautifully bedecked tree.  Thankfully, Danny didn't go too far; both Freddie and I reached forward simultaneously, caught him before he could knock everything down in a big, sloppy, shattering mess.  We traded quick relieved glances, then looked back up at Danny.

"I think you'd better let one of us do it, Daniel-san," I murmured.  Needless to say, it was Freddie who did the honors in the end, being the tallest. 

As he was climbing back down, I remembered what I had promised John.  "Okay, Danny, let's get a picture real quick," I said. 

"What for?" he groaned.  This was one place where he took after me; he hated cameras and having his picture taken. 

"Uncle J-" I stopped, saw Freddie taking a drag well within earshot, then decided to bite the bullet anyway.  "Your uncle, uh, wanted a Christmas picture of us, so let's take one and send it to him."

"Which uncle?  John or Scott?"

"Um... first one."

Freddie frowned.  "You've got two brothers, Julia?"

I shook my head.  "No, just one.  Scott."

"Yeah," Danny chimed in.  "Uncle John's not really my uncle.  He's more like a grandpa.  I'm named after him."

"Ah," Freddie nodded. 

He didn't suspect a thing.  I took a deep breath, let it out slowly.  Thank God, John is such a common name,  I don't need Freddie knowing the Deacons and I are very much in touch.  That's a typhoon of trouble waiting to happen.

Freddie offered to take the pictures, shutterbug that he was.  In case I had forgotten, I found myself very well reminded of how perfectionist Freddie also happened to be.  I don't even know how many pictures he took, but they took a sizable bite out of my phone's memory.  Over and over, click, click, click, telling us at intervals to move our heads a little this way, our turn in towards each other that way, stand closer, stand further apart, hold each other close, let go.  Neither Danny or I liked being micromanaged, but even the nine-year-old took it fairly well.  He was far too fond of Freddie to let something this small dim his opinions of him.

"That one was good," Freddie decided to himself, then handed me back my phone.  "Here, you two pick the best one."

"Not yet," I said to him.  "First I want one picture of all of us- and that includes you."

"Ah, yes, that would make that the best one, then," he said.  "Easy enough."

Rolling my eyes, we all squeezed in together by the tree.  I rarely took selfies, but I figured that wherever this charade went from here, and for how long, we at least needed to get one family photo out of it, for sentimental reasons if nothing else.

"Okay, folks, let's pretend we like each other," I quipped.

Freddie put his hand on Danny's shoulder and laid his cheek against mine.  Man, when we pretend, we pretend, I said to myself.  "Say cheese!"

Click.

"There," I said, carelessly opening up the gallery and pulling up the last picture.  "Should we take a few more, or is that one all right?"

Freddie studied the screen, his eyes roving quietly across each of the three smiling faces.  "No, um- I think that's lovely, actually."

See, photography isn't rocket science; I may not be a pro, but you don't need forty-five shots to find the perfect picture, I said to myself. 

"Mm-hm," I nodded.  "Looks quite natural, in fact."

"That's what I was thinking," Freddie agreed softly.  I turned to look him in the eyes, for I couldn't really read anything into his tone alone. But his expression, too, gave nothing away.

Am I going to tell Freddie or aren't I? I asked myself as I swiped through all the pictures Freddie had taken. He's going to leave us anyway, and it's not as though he's going to take that knowledge home. Does it really matter how he reacts?

Despite my inner thoughts, I smiled one more time at the one of the three of us.  "That's one we're keeping, for sure.  Hey, Danny, have a look, pick one to send, and then, you and I are off to bed."  I tossed my son the cell phone.

"What about Freddie?" Danny asked.

"Freddie has his own timetable," I told him. 

"I've got a few song ideas to work on," Freddie put in.  "I'll do that for a while, then I'll come join you."

"You shoulda heard that last thing he was playing, Mom, before Roxie came," Danny said.  "It  was so pretty."

"Oh?  What was it?"

Freddie dismissed the question, "Just a song, you know, just popped into my head, really nothing."

Danny handed me my phone back.  "I liked it."

"Mm," he nodded laconically. 

From the way Freddie had started to fidget, it was obvious that Danny and I were cramping his creative style.  He had one eye on the piano, hands flexing open and closed, lips twitching over the teeth like always.  So I had Danny bid him oyasuminasai and scurry on up to his room, and I planned to follow suit immediately. Heaven forbid we should get between the maestro and his muse.

When I had one hand on the rail, however, I heard Freddie gently call my name from the piano bench.

I turned.  "Yes, Freddie?"

He hesitated.  "Uh- we are still on for tomorrow afternoon, aren't we?"

"Driving lessons, you mean?"

"Yes, that.  I didn't completely blow it, did I?  I mean- do I get another chance?"

"One more, I suppose," I sighed submissively, "but only because you're so pretty.  Same bat-time, same bat-channel."

Freddie just looked at me, cracking a little Mona Lisa smile.  "I'll be there.  Trust me."

"I do."

A long, awkward, stifling pause.  (We had a lot of those, it seems.)  And then he broke the silence to say, very simply, "I had really lovely night, by the way.  Different," he laughed, "but lovely."

"I'm glad."

Another pause. 

I cleared my throat.  "Well, anyway, I'll- let you get down to business.  Good night."  I faced the stairs, started climbing them.

"Julia?"

I turned again.  "Yes, Freddie?"

He didn't say anything for a long time, but merely sat there, looking for all the world very vulnerable and small in this moment.  I watched him blink those dark eyes once, then twice, waiting for him to speak.

At last Freddie opened his mouth, but only to say, "Good night, Julia," before turning away, laying his hands across the keys and letting his imagination run wild.

I stood there for the next couple of minutes, watched him create, perform, fill the air with beauty every time he opened his mouth to vocalize the melody or press against the old ivories of our piano.  Perhaps Freddie and I were basically estranged, but he still had the magic- and my reinforcements by this point were too diluted in the bloodstream to be a hindrance.  And I was captured yet again.

Quietly I tiptoed up behind him, placed my hands on his shoulders, kissed the top of his dark head.

"I had a lovely night, too," I whispered.

Then I got the hell out of there without so much as a glance behind me.  I didn't know why I had done that, but something within me needed it.  It happened so fast I wondered if I hadn't simply imagined it.  Perhaps I had.  Who knows.

I shut the door to my bedroom to undress, turning off my phone as I did so.  Right as I took my finger off the power, I realized I had no clue which picture Danny had chosen to send the Deacons. 

But at the moment I didn't feel like checking, being fairly tired and a little mixed up in the head.  And besides, chances were slim Danny would send his uncle and aunt a picture including a man who, as far as he knew, was to them a total, absolute stranger.

Weren't they?