High C

17. You're The Wurtz

"I'm just awful at remembering people who aren't horrible. Of course, those are always the people you pretend not to remember. Your voice is familiar though. You're not a masseur are you?"

Lest Bob's carriage song come up again, Natasha fessed up. "That's right! I totally forgot. Maya, Bob was in the car with me when I picked you up at the airport last month."

"You were seeing him then?" DeeDee asked, sounding a little wounded that he'd been a secret so long.

"Of course! You were working with the Christmas Train. Inspecting it, yes? Something about working the bugs out?"

"That's right. I... was volunteering to inspect the train for bed bugs. I didn't want Natasha bringing anything home."

"Health and safety, that's it! I do remember now! You absolutely refused to come work for me. If I'd remembered that first I would've pretended not to know you. Oh well."

"Theatres are a breeding ground for bed bugs," Gene said into his shoulder with a shudder.

"How's the new show coming along, Maya?" DeeDee asked.

"We've, uh, been making some changes. It's being re-workshopped. It came to my attention that the story was a little too much like..."

The title Oklahoma square danced on the tips of so many tongues, but ultimately no one dared.

"... a political melodrama, really. The spirit of the music is so much more jubilant now that I'm here personally to continue the collaboration and it seems to be taking on a life of its own. Where the muse goes I must follow! It was actually Steve's idea that we embrace some more comedic elements. Not farce mind you, but something light and uplifting. One of the gags is that every time I'm about to sing I have to have my corset loosened. Isn't that humorous?"

"That is funny!" Bob said.

"It was her mother's idea," said Steve, at which point, Maya stopped her laughless laughing through a wide smile and filled her wine glass to the top.

"How is your mother doing?" Natasha asked.

"The operation was a success, thank you for enquiring. The stent is making a huge difference. Of course the initial stroke was tough mentally and emotionally. I can't tell you how often Mama will just cry for no reason."

"Anyone else find it strangely beautiful that stroke sufferers often cry uncontrollable tears?" asked Steve.

"That too," Maya said, "but what I was saying was how Mama just cries, 'When's it gonna end?' right in the middle of our conversations, for no reason. It's like she's developed Tourette's. There I am helpless to do anything to, well, help her. Apart for paying for everything and devoting my time and energy to her. In my prayers mostly. I mean I do stay over with her when I can but I cannot function on less than ten hours of sleep and Mama's been sleepwalking and having nightmares. The other night I woke up to her standing over my bed yelling, 'Get out!'. It was terrifying. And she's always calling out in her sleep for my brother, who I'm loathe to admit is too selfish to do anything for her. It's heartbreaking really."

"Gosh, Bob, she sounds a lot like your mother," DeeDee said.

"She's stealing my act," Bob said in a genuine slip. Avoiding Natasha's warning glare he looked at DeeDee across from him instead, her eyes swirling to keep from laughing out loud. Gene buttered the top of a bun without tearing it first and offered it to her right under her nose.

"You should talk to her about her dreams," Gwyn said to Maya. "Sometimes they're straight forward but sometimes the act of describing a dream out loud helps with the translation of symbolism."