Elsa takes a delicate breath.
“Now, she might be as American as apple pie.”
Long lens photo on screen of Alexandra in an orange kayak, mid-paddle, trailing Hendrix, who’s gliding in front of her in a blue kayak.
Cut back to Elsa.
“But that peaches and cream skin tells its own tale.”
Telephoto shot on screen of fresh-faced Alexandra standing close to and smiling up at Hendrix, who’s grinning down at her. They’re next to a truck bed with the orange and blue kayaks in it, beyond that, a stunning backdrop of blue lake and brown rock.
Cut back to Elsa.
“Yes, love is definitely in the mountain air, my wonderful watchers. And I, for one, am pleased as punch for Mr. Hendrix. A true American hero who lost his legs fighting a wildfire in those same mountains. He’s finally getting the prize he paid dearly to earn, hooking himself to one of the oldest, status-topping families on two continents. Although, we mustn’t fail to mention, we’re still in a congratulatory phase for the upcoming nuptials of Alexandra’s big sister, Blake, who will soon be marrying Chad Head, of the Hampton Heads.”
After saying this, Elsa smirks.
Then a photo on screen of a heavily made-up, dark-haired, peaches-and-cream-skinned, violet-eyed woman wearing a high-necked, shoulderless, pleated, black cocktail dress standing next to a tall blond man with classical, angular features, wearing a suit. Both are smiling fixedly, straight into the camera.
Cut back to Elsa.
“But everyone knows about sibling rivalry, my wonderful watchers, and methinks it’s quite obvious who won this round. Don’t you agree?”
Picture on screen of Hendrix and Alexandra exiting what appears to be a liquor store. He’s got the fingers of one hand curled into the handle a six-pack of craft beer, his other hand is dangling down Alexandra’s chest as she’s tucked close in his arm. She has a narrow paper bag with the neck of a wine bottle cradled in one arm, the other curled around his waist.
Again, Alexandra’s watching where her feet are going, thus Hendrix is clearly steering them, staring straight ahead. Something is amusing, however, as Alexandra’s lips are curved, a dimple depressing her right cheek, and Hendrix is flashing a wide, white smile.
They’re both wearing attractive hiking gear. They’re both sporting healthy tans. They’re both wearing sporty but stylish sunglasses. And as the sun shines down on them, they look young, hale, and happy.
Close in on Elsa.
“Well, my wonderful watchers, I’m feeling it’s time for a vacation. And I know what part of the country is calling my name. Of course, nothing against the Hamptons, we all know how marvelous they are. But there’s winning and then there’s winning. And I think it’s clear which Sharp sister won and where she was when she claimed victory. Now, until our next exchange, keep it positive. Elsa is signing off.”
The branded Elsa wink and blowing of kiss.
Sign off.
Alex
I was in my bathroom, trying to tamp down on a minor freakout that showed telltale signs of burgeoning into a major one.
Chicken parm and sundaes at Marino’s, then back to Rix’s Friday night, after the devastation of him telling his story, and into the beginnings of The Queen’s Gambit, all of this was a nuanced beginning for the sheer abundance of what was to come.
Saturday was hiking, during which we’d shared sporadic idle chitchat, but far more of Rix’s patented teasing, and me finding I was beginning to have no issue shoveling that back at him. This mingled with a number of stops to take pictures that included selfies that neither of us mentioned (and at least on my part, even thought of) as pretend.
This segued into lunch that, somehow, some way, through some miracle, we naturally ordered meals we both wanted, and thus we shared.
Yes, shared.
Eating off of each other’s plates and everything!
It didn’t even occur to me at the time.
It didn’t occur to me until now, which was one of the reasons for the minor freakout blossoming into something bigger.
Though, it did occur to me, last night, after grilling, eating and arguing about whether we were going to make a quick batch of chocolate chip cookies to munch on while watching TV, or cinnamon oatmeal cookies (Rix wanted oatmeal, Rix won), that finding our two corners on the couch, which was what we did Friday night, Rix had decided, was history.
My lip brush upon greeting him Friday was not repeated.
But last night, Rix waited until I settled in, managing this by hitting the bathroom while I was curling into my side of the couch.
When he’d come back out, he didn’t sit opposite me.
He arranged himself around me, in doing so, needing to rearrange me.
Although, at the start, I’d played ragdoll, not knowing what to do or how to behave, in the end, that was all he did.
We cuddled. We watched TV. And sometimes, Rix leaned into me to reach to the plate of cookies on the coffee table.