Further Up & Further In

Flowers For Her Grave: Chapter 4

Lucy spent Edmund's entire 19th birthday party planning her 18th.

Edmund hadn't really wanted a party, but their parents were feeling nostalgic and insisted on celebrating. They, too, realized their last baby would be an adult soon enough, and suddenly they were determined to treat their children like children once more. 

Susan spent the day with Lucy and her mother, helping them bake a cake, and prepare a meal. It was a little like old times. Her clothes were covered in flour and cocoa, despite her making sure to wear an apron, and her face was spotted with batter. She didn't mind this, too much. She'd brought along a change of clothes and her makeup so that she could cleanup afterwards. This part was always messy. Susan, incapable of remaining perfectly mature while spending the day with her sister and mother, had smeared a dollop of the chocolate batter on Lucy's freckled nose, and Lucy had retaliated joyfully. 

Shortly before the party, their mother dismissed them so that they could all get washed up, and Susan and Lucy laughed their way to the bathroom. They washed all the batter off their faces and hands, and then got to work fixing their hair and changing their clothes. 

The party itself wasn't that big. Professor Kirke hadn't been able to make it, but he insisted he'd have all of them over for dinner one more time before school started for Eustace and Jill in a week. Polly came, (or "Aunt Polly," as the younger kids still referred to her.) She was like family, after all. Then, of course, came Eustace and his parents. 

To top it off, Edmund had been encouraged to invite some friends of his own, and he'd obliged in an effort to make the party a little more enjoyable. 

It was fun enough, Susan thought. As soon as the guests had arrived, Lucy had mostly shirked her kitchen duties, and Susan picked up the slack like she always had. 

The Pevensies' father put on a few of Edmund's old favourite records, and Eustace sat with him, while his own parents stood to the side and mostly kept to themselves. Susan attempted small talk with the two of them, but they clearly weren't interested in conversation, and Susan wondered a little bit why they'd even come.

Edmund leaned against the wall in the corner with his friends, discussing things Susan only caught pieces of: war, and politics, and books, and music, and then sudden uproarious laughter about something trivial that she didn't understand. To her surprise, both Peter and Lucy stood with them at first. Once upon a time Edmund would have complained about his little sister tagging along, and just as much about his older brother hovering over him, but somewhere down the line, that had changed. 

Lucy, as always, was enchanting everyone with her angelic smile, and somehow she kept up with the boys' conversation easily. (Susan could flirt and chat, but she'd long since given up trying to understand the things that young men talked about. How should she know anything about war, and why should they want her to? Yet here was Lucy, only 17, completely in her element.) Every so often, she'd throw a phrase Eustace's way, and he would grin, but he didn't try to join the conversation. 

Then, all of a sudden, Lucy's demeanor changed; she started pulling at Peter's arm, and the two of them began dancing to the record Mr. Pevensie had just put on. Susan smiled as she watched them. 

When Peter tired, Aunt Polly stepped in, and she and Lucy twirled and stepped all over the room. No one else made any effort to dance, and indeed, the dancers looked quite silly, but nothing deterred Lucy, and Aunt Polly was well past caring what anyone thought. 

The Scrubbs were the first to leave, followed by Aunt Polly, and then finally, Edmund's friends wished him a happy birthday and went home, as well. All that remained were the Pevensies.

Susan had been watching all these events between running back and forth between the kitchen and the living room. She'd insisted on letting her mother relax during most of the party, and had taken on the role of host wholeheartedly. She brought out the appetizers, chatted with guests, and put the candles on Edmund's cake, and she loved it all. She'd always liked hosting parties. But, now that it was nearly over, she wanted nothing more than to enjoy this one, too.

Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie danced now, and Susan grabbed Peter. He put his hand on her waist, and she put her hand in his, and she tried to keep her footing as he continually missed steps. Awkward as he was, Susan felt comfortable like that. She'd always loved dancing, and had danced with plenty of young men at the parties she attended, but there was something especially nice about dancing with someone she'd been close to since childhood. No, Peter wasn't much of a dancer, but he was her brother. Still her brother. Still her shield. 

Behind them, Edmund and Lucy argued about what record to play next. Edmund insisted that the record he wanted was the better one, but Lucy was determined to listen to another one because it had one song that she really liked. Finally, Edmund conceded, and said that they could listen to Lucy's song first. She stuck out her tongue in victory, but her smile was genuine. They were the same, too. Edmund, still the mediator, and Lucy, still stubborn and sweet.

And, above all, there were their parents; already so much older than they had been ten years ago, but still so loving and happy together. They'd made it through the war, and they'd made it through raising four children, and they'd made it through another evening with Harold and Alberta. They were victorious, and greying, and still just the Pevensies.

Susan wondered in that moment what her siblings were thinking of her. Did they see that she was the same too? Did they realize that she was still Susan?

They were happy in that moment.

Like they used to be.

Like they should have been.

Happy.