𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 | roger taylor

XLIV

April 11, 1978

It doesn't surprise me at all that Audrey's fourth birthday falls on the day before Queen's first show of their European leg. The date sneaks up on us, and by the time we remember the tour, it's too late for us to have had an earlier celebration. Her birthday is on an awkward day, a Tuesday, and I'd suggested we could celebrate by ourselves when he came back... whenever that would be.

"We're just going to my parents' house," I had told him, placing a stack of folded clothes into a basket at my feet. "You're not missing much, and she won't hate you for it."

Although he'd grimaced slightly, he didn't back down. "I can catch an overnight flight. No big deal."

I had only raised an eyebrow, shrugging as if to say if you're sure.

Now we hesitate in front of the door to my parents' home, Roger staring me down in desperation and regret. "You told them I was coming, right?"

"Yes. Are you sweating?"

He shifts his weight, hopping from foot to foot. "What do you expect? It's not like this could make or break my place in your family."

I hold back my laugh. "She's met you before."

"Forever ago," he protests, then looks down at Audrey pulling at his hand. "One second, love."

My daughter pulls him again, impatiently. "Come on," she insists. She's looking longingly at the doorbell, no doubt wishing she could reach it right about now.

"Fine." He pushes it gently, the accompanying sound of bells ringing inside.

It's my father who answers the door, much to my relief. Audrey launches herself into his arms, and his brown eyes glance over the two of us as he hugs her. Once she wiggles out of his grip and disappears inside the house, my dad is eager to shake Roger's hand.

"It's such a pleasure," he says, and Roger takes his hand, surprised. "I'm a fan."

"Really?"

"Yes. Only in the car, though, my wife doesn't let me play it in the house."

I burn red, but Roger only laughs. He seems to relax quite a bit as we go inside, talking music with my father. I breathe out a sigh, too, relieved that he's getting on with at least one of my parents. He was the easy one, anyway. Speaking of the devil, a smaller figure brushes up behind me.

"I'm glad you brought him," my mother murmurs at my shoulder, turning me around to embrace me quickly. "It's about time."

"Go easy on him, alright? He's nervous."

She looks at me quizzically, then promptly walks over to re-introduce herself. Although Roger has the advantage of height on my mother, he looks at her as if she's ten feet taller than him, a mixture of respect and fear on his face.

I decide I can't watch this unfold, whether it goes well or it doesn't, and slip away to the kitchen before I can hear a single word they exchange. I find my sister in there, holding up Audrey by her middle so she can gaze at her birthday cake.

It's two-tier, thankfully- my mother had been planning on three until I talked her down. It's covered in white frosting with pink flowers decorating the border. She clearly adores it- Amaris manages to sweep her out of reach right before she reaches out a hand to touch it.

"Patience, my niece," she says, patting her on the head. "You need real food first."

"Just one taste!"

My sister sets her swiftly onto the floor, turning her attention to me. "Keep her away from the cake," she says sternly. "I have to get her presents from my car."