Of Lorenz Theory & Love

JHMD: Moissanite & Merriment

38 JHMD: Moissanite & Merriment

6 am PDT, 6 weeks later, Vera Manor, Basement

Harry had not realized just how many engagement ring options were out there. He had narrowed down the jewelry websites to two, so progress had been done on that front. He had a general idea, blueprint-wise, how he wanted the ring to look, thinking he would take into account Jimmy's ring design for Darcy eight decades or so earlier—a tri-stone design. He continued to scroll through the variety of stone options.

Harry learned that there were diamond simulants (cubic zirconia being especially inexpensive), moissanites (which were found in Arizona and supposedly derived from the sky, like magic), and diamonds themselves (extremely expensive, and brought with it a small-but-not-insignificant risk that it involved child labor, which both he and Macy were strongly opposed to). After all, children were meant to have a carefree life and learn and read and be happy—not toil away in the dark, dank diamond mines of a corrupt locale far, far away. Life was too short for that.

9 am PDT, Vera Manor, Kitchen

Everyone was sitting down to breakfast in the kitchen when Maggie came through, dropping a flyer in the center of the table.

"What's this?" Macy picked up the flyer.

"SafeSpace Prom, in two weeks," replied Maggie. "They want to thank everyone for being so cooperative with the construction workers months ago, and thought they'd try a new social activity."

"Prom?" Mel asked, in a slightly skeptical tone. "Isn't prom for...high schoolers?"

"Not this one," Maggie answered. "This prom is going to have the best DJ, dance songs, the works. I would know of course, since"—she paused for suspense—"Jordan and I are on the planning committee."

"Sounds fun," Harry chimed in. All three of the girls' heads turned and looked at him. "What?" he asked, looking at them. "I've never been to an American prom before. I've heard it's fun."

"Fun if you're a cis-gender heterosexual male or female that adheres to heavily-pressured societal norms," muttered Mel. "I didn't go to mine."

"All the more reason to show up to this one!" said Maggie, with an air of enthusiasm. "C'mon guys, it'll be awesome because I'm the one planning it!" She surveyed Harry, Mel, and Macy. "Please say you'll come?" she pleaded.

"Of course we will," said Macy. "Won't we?" she shot Harry and Mel a look. They nodded, though Mel still appeared somewhat apprehensive about the whole affair.

"Awesome!" squealed Maggie. "Anyway, TTYL, gotta do more prom planning. And dresses! I found some outfits in the attic we could repurpose." And with that, she ran out the door, her mind aflutter with ideas.

Noon, Vera Manor, Kitchen

Maggie was at SafeSpace; Harry was acting as Macy's assistant in the she-shed, helping her mix and analyze Egyptian sphinx samples that dated back to 9500 BC. The coast was clear. Mel used a duplication charm against the prom invitation, creating an exact replica. She inspected it closely and wrote "From Mel" in her signature cursive handwriting. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she turned to what appeared to be a miniature tornado, or whirlpool, brewing in a miniature pewter cauldron. "Abigael," she whispered, dropping the invitation into its stormy abyss.

1 pm, Vera Manor, She-Shed

Harry continued to hold the sample container steady as Macy examined each test tube's bottom to determine the level of RNA extraction, detectable through white strands separated from each substance, no larger than a single grain of rice. It was a laborious, time-consuming task. She saw the smallest hint of a gossamer thread emanating from one of the furthest glass tubes, but nothing else. Macy sighed. Her most recent client from Egypt was trying to ward off this mythical creature, that had taken to terrorizing local villagers in the nearby desert oasis. To successfully vanquish the rogue sphinx, Macy needed to send the client an accurate genetic sampling for the proper potion brew to be made on the other end. Perhaps another couple of hours.

In the meantime, Macy signaled for Harry to place the sample container back on the solid wood desk, which he did. She removed her gloves, eye mask, and lab coat, and Harry followed suit, which meant to Harry that this experiment would take longer than expected—enough time to talk to Macy. He had forgotten that she was wearing her spaghetti-strap tank top and short fuchsia floral-patterned silk shorts. She had to have done that on purpose, he thought to himself.

"Macy," Harry began, as they sat on the carpeted interior (Macy replaced the carpet with a new one after the explosion sometime earlier). "Do you like dances?"

Macy looked at him oddly. "I like dancing with you, if that's what you're asking." Harry could have sworn he detected a subtle smirk somewhere in her visage.

"I mean—" Harry looked at the fluffy white faux fur rug that laid underneath them both, for the next few seconds, as he composed his thoughts together. Nobody ever told me asking someone to a public dance would be this nerve-wracking and awkward, he thought to himself, as his palms began to sweat. Americans seemed to have so much more self-confidence than the British compatriots he himself had known back in his WWII days. Was this why? "Do you want to go to a dance with me—I mean," he looked at Macy. "Prom? Do you want to go to the prom, with me?"

Macy giggled, reaching out to stroke Harry's sideburns. "I feel like we're back in high school—except a more fun version where we make the rules and have more money and do cool things," as she deflected Harry's question entirely.

She was doing this on purpose. "That doesn't answer the question, Macy Vaughn," Harry drew nearer to Macy, slowly caressing her cheek as she closed her eyes involuntarily. "Will you or will you not go to SafeSpace prom with me, two weeks from today?" He reached his hand over to under her floral shorts, she was already wet, and she gasped aloud, while he stroked her slowly at first, then faster and faster, until he felt her pulsating waves and her moisture glistening on his finger as he removed it.

"YES—" Macy gulped. "Damn you, Harry Greenwood. Yes."

"Yes...what?" asked Harry cheekily.

"Yes, I'll go to the prom with you."