Giant Men and Violent Women

So Who Did It?

PRESLEY ANN

It's January 9. The sun has arrived. The tawny owls are singing. The duck liver is cooking. The Black Honey is brewing.

Nona crept into my bedroom at dawn, lit a fire in my fireplace, and cracked open a window for me, just like I'd asked. So, there's fresh, chilly air breezing through-cold on the outside, warm beneath my covers.

I hear the crackling sounds of tree logs burning and then breaking. I listen to the distant sounds of that reggae-folk that I catch every morning. I smell something besides food...flowers. I give a long stretch. I guess I can learn to love this place.

I haven't brought Jewels here yet. He's a good guy, but it just isn't time. In my mind, the place where you sleep, work, eat, and love is private and is only to be entered by people you completely trust.

"Well, Dartmouth will have a lot on their plate next season with them losing four players to the league."

My eyes shoot open. Who just said that? Was that Ashley?

"Chap is probably rolling around in his grave," I hear Minnie say. "To think that Carter is entering the draft after only one year." "He needs more experience," Ashley agrees. "Mmhmm."

What the hell is Ashley doing here?

I sit up, ramrod straight, and look around. Nona's placed dozens of vases filled with tuberose around my room. The potently fragrant white flowers smell a bit like flowers and a little bit of citrus and stand upright in crystal vases. What does tuberose mean?

I prepare to call Nona into the room, and like clockwork, my bedroom door opens.

"I have news!" Nona sings out as she nearly skips in.

I notice that she has a newspaper in her hand. She softly closes my bedroom door behind her.

Oh my God! The pictures of Jewels and me! I almost forgot.

Last night, he and I drove to the Boston airport after leaving Lover's Rock, and we had a good conversation in the presence of a silent Boxer. We decided that we both thought it would be a pleasure to be representatives of each other. This union would be mutually beneficial for both parties. We assured each other that we would keep the other in mind when we gave statements to the press, dealt with members of the opposite sex, and presented ourselves to the media. It was a quick conversation that was spoken almost like marriage vows.

I, Presley Ann, take you, Jewels, to be my significant other, to pretend to love you from this day forward, for the good of both parties, keeping all finances separate, being loyal to you first until we decide not to do this anymore.

He took the same vow.

And, after it was over, we hugged each other, and he headed on his way. If this is what real love is, I'll buy it.

And, now, I'd like to see what my true love looks like on the front page of Boston Society.

"Hurry!" I whisper to Nona, gesturing for her to come over with the paper.

She runs over to me with a smile, as excited as a little kid.

"So, what's the word around Darling?"

"Oh my God, people are shocked out of their minds!" she says before plopping onto my bed.

She hands me the paper, and I see the photo that my mom took staring back at me on the front page. I don't care what The Widow says. This picture looks great! Given the circumstances, it would have been inappropriate for Jewels and me to be in some lovers' embrace, so this photo of us is perfect. In it, he looks more handsome than I've ever given him credit for. Maybe it's because he doesn't look like he's trying. He tries so much to be The Senator with his kilowatt smile and one-hundred-miles per-hour conversation. But, in this picture, he's just relaxed. He's just a guy from Vermont. He's the guy who grew up working at his father's logging business on summer vacations and school breaks. He's the boy who watched his grandfather brew honey-wine at midnight and watched his grandmother bake blackberry pies in the family's weekend cottage. He's just Jewels.