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By the end of the night, most pictures on each wall had sold stickers in the corners, though they would continue to stay up for a few more days.
"I've done four shows here," the other artist, Magda, announced after everyone had filed out and we - Magda, me, Autumn, and Peyton - were handed one final round of champagne, "and I have never sold more than one painting on the opening night. You have many cultured friends," she praised, beaming, this night a clearcut success for the both of us. "I will share a gallery with you anytime," she added, clinking my glass, draining hers, then making her way out the door.
"Eli," my mother called, she and Pops being the only two who didn't have babysitters to go save from their, as Fee called them, demon spawn, and had only walked out a moment before.
"Yeah, Ma?" I called back, brows drawn together.
"Tomorrow is Sunday dinner. And in case you forgot, attendance is mandatory. That goes for you girls too," she added, giving Autumn and Peyton a very firm Helen Mallick don't-fuck-with-me look.
"Mama Dukes, you have food, I'm there," Peyton declared. "I mean that literally. You order a little too much extra Chinese, you can call me over like a dog to clean up the leftovers."
Ma smiled at that, it being clear she was a fan of Peyton's particular brand of absurdity.
"We'll be there, Ma," I agreed, giving Autumn a little squeeze.
The we thing was still new, but somehow completely comfortable at the same time. I guess that was maybe how you knew it was right.
"Let me know if we can bring anything," Autumn added.
My mother took a second, looking at us, clearly still a little emotional at having me - and us - around, but then gave us a smile, and was gone.
"Mandatory, huh?" Autumn asked, moving around to press her chest to mine, her arms behind my shoulders.
"She's serious about that too. She will hunt us down. There is no excuse good enough not to show. It looks like people are going to have to go without their cock rings and butt plugs on Sundays from now on."
And so they would.
We never missed a Sunday from that day forward.
After all, I had a lot of catching up to do.EPILOGUEAutumn - 1 monthWe were having two Christmases.
Of course, we had to go to Charlie and Helen's for the absolutely massive event that Christmas was for them. I had been shown pictures. Gifts flooded the living room; people were everywhere; there was a huge feast after gifts.
It was a big deal.
Luckily, it didn't start until the afternoon since everyone needed to do the Santa thing at home with the kids first.
It worked out too because Peyton and I had our little morning tradition of a huge home-cooked breakfast that we made while belting out horribly off-key carols. Then we ate while watching The Christmas Story. After that, we opened gifts while watching Christmas Vacation. Normally, the afternoon would include some heavy eggnog usage and more movie watching before we popped in a pre-made lasagne we made earlier in the month and froze, and pigging out.
We were happy to give up the latter part of the day, deciding homemade dinner by Helen was leaps and bounds better than reheated lasagne.
But we weren't giving up on our morning traditions.
"I'm coming," I whispered at Peyton who was waiting in my doorway wearing a pair of red and green striped leggings and a red long sleeved tee with a picture of Santa that begged the question Where my hoes at?
I slid out of bed away from Eli who had given me an early Christmas present - actually, three.
It was barely six. Eli wouldn't be up for at least another hour. It gave us time to get things rolling food-wise, and get the presents under the tree.
I grabbed a sweatshirt Peyton had bought me with one red and one green bulb on it, saying simply underneath Balls.
"Flick on the tree," I demanded as we passed it - our pride and joy. We had a tradition since we moved in together that we bought each other a bulb for each year. Every single one on there was dated and had some special meaning. This year, one of my gifts to Eli was his first ornament too.
I had totally teared up when I wrapped it.
Because I was becoming a big old sap lately.
"Okay, I'm on the French toa... wait," Peyton said, stopping mid-stride, then turning back to the colored tree, some of the strands blinking lazily, but most of them solid. "Santa came!" she whisper-shrieked, mouth wide, eyes dancing.
I doubled back, seeing the pile of, well, badly-wrapped presents in bright red and white paper, that only a man - or child made all of thumbs - could have wrapped.
