the Presleys

chapter 22 - 1955

CECE MARTIN

"And...", I looked at my ticking watch. "Happy Birthday, honey.", I pressed my lips on Elvis'. He hummed in approval at my actions and fluttered his pretty eyes shut.

"I ain't no little boy no more.", he mimicked his younger self's voice, making me laugh.

"The golden year yittle Elvis Presley turned ten years old.", I said, ruffling his hair. He pulled out a comb, huffing.

"I've been combing my hair for three hours.", Elvis complained and fixed his hair. I smiled and leaned against the folding chair. My gaze wandered on the stars and then down to the few cars driving around Beale Street.

"Birthday on the roof. The day I come up with a proper idea for your birthday, honey...", he followed my actions and let his hand rest on his stomach, the other found the comfort of mine. Elvis intertwined our fingers and brought my hand to his lips, an action that made me smile and blush at the same time. Soft music played faintly in the cold, Memphis air.

"I didn't mind my birthday in the treehouse back in Tupelo.", I said softly, the sweet memories replaying in my head. "Or when you took me skating last year.", I chuckled.

"There was a twist to my birthday, remember?", I asked teasingly.

He dropped my hand and crossed his arms on his chest. "Yeah, the twist was that you twisted your ankle.", I laughed at the offended tone he used. I sat up and looked at him, delicately uncrossing his arms and letting them drop by his side. I found his hand and just like he had done before, I kissed the back of it.

"You're being grumpy for nothing. I had a great time and I'm sure you're gonna plan more great birthdays in the future.", my words only made Elvis frown. I tapped the space between his eyebrows and he immediately stopped. "You're twenty. You don't want to look thirty, baby."

He sat up, fighting the little smile that was growing on his lips. "C'mere.", he opened his arms and, without hesitation, I knew where my place was. Elvis pressed his chest to my back and kissed my temple. "Always finding something funny to say. My little comedian."

"Oh, I was being serious about them wrinkles.", I said, looking up at him. A small smile played on his lips as he gently tilted my chin to the left, so that we were both looking at the stars again.

"See? You're the funniest, honey."

Comfortable silence engulfed us, making me sigh and wish we stayed like this forever.

"I wrote a song about you.", Elvis said suddenly, making me still in his arms.

"About me?", he hummed at my question. "Well, how does it go?"

"It goes something like this.", Elvis dramatically cleared his throat. "Oh, funny, little Cece Flora...", I laughed and swatted his hand.

"It ain't a real song.", I complained.

"Of course it is.", he said. "Well it is now."

I smiled at his words. "You're recycling words from the time you sang that fake song a hundred years ago.", my words made him laugh and I smiled at the feeling of his chest suddenly exploding with joy.

"Recycling words? Honey— A-And by the way the song, you know Cece Flora, is very much real. I sent it to you, but that son of a bitch of your daddy hid it from ya.", he explained, defending his case.

"I believe you, baby, I do.", I took hold of his hand again. "You don't have a copy, do ya?"

Elvis scoffed. "You really think I'm gonna write something twice, honey?"