They walked slowly to the guest house, following one of the family ushers. As usual, he couldn’t get out of his own mind.
“Are ya sure ya don’t want to go back home to our rooms, we’ve been gone a long time?” She slurred the words a bit as she placed her hand on his arm.
“She needs to be free of that isolation as much as possible. Use the opportunity Brett.” Whitley, in his mind.
A flash of anger at Whitley for interfering. Damn it, she didn’t want to help when he asked, only when she wanted. What gave her the right?
“My room is wherever ya are, ‘melia. Let’s stay, Livy can sleep in for a few hours. She’s tired and grouchy anyway. Something different for a few more hours.”
She leaned into him for a kiss. God damn fucking Whitley for being right.
After the usher led them to a guest area, seperated by flowing curtains and decorations, but no real walls, he almost changed his mind. He thanked the usher before pulling the drapes closed, and turned, saying “Maybe we should…..” but he stammered to a stop at the site that greeted him.
She stood next to some sort of day bed that was covered in a sheet and blanket, the beautiful cream dress she had worn pooled around her feet, standing on the matching high heels, her tanned and scarred skin glowing in the soft light shimmering through the draperies.
“Maybe we should do……what?”
“Whatever ya want, whatever ya want, always……” The shadows blurred and then he kissed her……..he couldn’t get his suit off fast enough.
Later, as she lay curled inside of him on the far too small day bed, her breath sinking into the rhythym of exhaustion, sleep beckoning, his eyes closed, the scent or her hair in his face, he whispered into her neck, “I wish I’d have been there ta save ya from that pain. I’d have gladly died ta do that. That would’ve been easy. Now…..now, I want ta live for ya. Really live. For ya, for Livy, for us, for me. It’s so much harder. Maybe yer dreams will hear me. Let me help ya the way ya’ve helped me. I’ll never not love ya, whatever comes.”
Sleep never came for him that morning, as he held her in his arms, all he could think about was the serenade around the cake. He hadn’t intended for it to be that way, he hadn’t intended consciously, to sing to them both, but he had. Shame burned in his mind, because he knew he was going to hurt them both, the way he hurt everyone he loved, but in the moment it had felt……right. For the last several months he’d been…..peacefully content to spend time with his family, and as soon as she was back in the picture, he became distracted, torn between his love for both of them. He’d tried so hard to put her out of his mind…..and he’d thought he’d been successful. It seemed, though, that it had only really been, out of sight, sort of out of mind.
Later in the day, he walked into the garage, finding his daughter’s legs sticking out around the other side of the bike.
“Hey kiddo, how’s it looking?”
“The whole fuckin’ exhaust system needs replaced, damn it.”
“Well, want some help?”
“Dumb ‘n silent extra hands are always welcome.”
“Funny.”
They worked in silence for most of the afternoon, with a grunted command or response.
“Done, I think.” She sat up, grease covering her hands, face and arms. 
“Better go give it a test run then, before we paint it back to the right colors.” He paused, “Livy,” and then he paused again, “I, uh….well, I’m sorry for, ya know.”
“Huh? It’s not yer fault Uncle Fat Head wasn’t there ta catch the crack in the system.”
“What? Oh, no, I didn’t mean that. I meant……for making ya wear a dress. I….,” and he swallows nervously, face hidden somewhat by the bike, “didn’t mean ta make ya uncomfortable. For that I’m sorry. I guess……I guess what I’m saying is I’m glad ya told me about why ya didn’t want ta, even if I didn’t really get it.”
“Fuck a wallabe, Dad, this convo is way more uncomfortable than the fuckin’ dress.”
“Oh, well, least I’m consistent then.”
“It’s ok Dad, the party was…..interestin’.
He brightened considerably, “Good, good, I’m glad ya had fun.”
“Well, that’s……not exactly……fine, it was sort of fun.”
“I’ll take sort of fun. Yer mum definitely fun though…..an’ so did I.” Another long pause as they sit there. “I was wondering, I know ya like bikes ‘n all the best, but…….after the whole Anubis stuff, William…….well, he arranged ta have my old car from when……well, from a long time ago, shipped to the US. Its been sittin’ in storage. Ya want to help me get it goin’ again?”
“That’d be kind of cool, I guess.”
“Well, then get this test run over with so we can start the first of the paint before dinner.”
His daughter jumped onto the bike, starting it up, and roared out into the courtyard and towards the mini track they had set up for training.
“Ya could have intervened at any time, ya know.,” he said to the figure standing at the edge of the garage.
“Why? Ya were doin’ fine, Brett.”
“Fine? Felt like my insides were being carved out. And before ya say it, yes I remember what that feels like, ‘Melia.
“So, that old yellow Camaro’s here in the US? Could be fun ta take it out for a ride again.”
“Well, sure would be fun to recreate the night I left for Timor……and might even be fun to tell Livy the story of her beginnin’…..righto?'” He’s smiling as he turns towards his lover, but the smile slowly dies at the look upon her face.
“Sorry Amelia, I wasn’t…..”
“Its not that Brett.” Her arms are crossed stiffly under her breasts. “What else is in storage?”
“Everythin,’ I guess.”
“What do ya mean, everythin’?”
“Amelia, I told ya not long after ya got here that William had arranged for yer things ta be packed an’ shipped. He was tryin’ ta be nice.”
“Brett…….what was shipped?”
“Everythin’…….Mum’s house……..and yer’s. Beyond that, I don’t know.” He pauses, sensing that somehow he’s said something wrong, “The key is in my desk if ya want it.”
Last Dreams 