Experimental Magic ✔

Epilogue: 1

Wasting away again in Margaritaville

Waves crashed against the shore as seagulls squawked overhead. Markos stood behind a tiki bar, a lei around his neck, and a Jimmy Buffet album spinning on the record player behind him. His hair was messy with salty seawater. They had been out on the hot, sunny beach all morning and it was time for a drink. He grabbed a handful of ice and threw it in a martini shaker, along with splashes of pineapple and guava juice, a sprig of mint, and a generous amount of rum. He poured his concoction into a plastic blowfish and topped it with a hibiscus flower and three maraschino cherries.

"All right, Missie," he said as he slid it to his sister. "This one's for you."

Misty smiled and wrapped her hands around the abnormally sized drink. She wasn't usually one for fruity cocktails, but the sun was shining, she had a nice tan going, and her toes were in the sand. The mood was just right. She did a little happy dance to the music and popped a cherry in her mouth. She took her first sip and swore she was in heaven.

"Omg, Markos," she gushed. "That is good. Like dangerously good."

"That's what I like to hear," Markos grinned with a wink. "Now, who's next?"

Millie walked over, sunglasses perched on her head and a towel around her waist. She climbed up on the barstool next to Misty.

"Hit me with your best, big bro."

"You got it."

Markos took a little of this and a little of that and shook it up, being sure to make it extra strong. From the other side of the bar, Miles couldn't help but chuckle to himself as he watched his son work expertly behind the counter. Markos was a far cry from the scrawny pre-teen they left behind.

"What's that look for?" Markos asked his dad.

"I'm just wondering when my 13-year-old son learned to mix drinks."

"I am 23, Dad," Markos corrected playfully. Just being able to say the word Dad was enough to put a huge smile on his face. "And I learned in college. The girls loved me."

"I bet," Miles laughed.

Markos placed the garnish on Millie's drink and handed it to her. He threw a towel over his shoulder and walked over to his dad.

"So, what are you drinking?"

Markos smirked as Miles looked back at him and shook his head. He still couldn't believe any of this was real. It was all so surreal. Miles was so dumbstruck by it all, he couldn't answer. Moreso, he felt he shouldn't answer. Even though Markos was right there in front of him, a fully grown man, in his mind, he was still a little boy. He wasn't sure he was quite ready to let his son serve him alcohol.

"I'll have a Margarita," Mary-Beth piped up, unexpectedly.

Miles turned to give Mary-Beth a look. He was shocked that his normally sweet and mild-mannered wife was accepting a boozy drink from her only son.

"What? He's over 21. It's legal," she said, not seeing the problem. "Unless they changed the drinking age while we were gone."

"Um, actually, the drinking age is 15 now, so..." Meadow said, interjecting her own fun into the conversation.

She knew it was a long shot, but she had to try. As she expected, Markos was quick to shut it down.

"Yeah, right," Markos said. "You're getting a Shirley Temple, Miss."

"You gave Misty and Millie a drink," Meadow was quick to shoot back. "They're both underage."

"Narc," Misty mumbled under her breath into her straw, already half-drunk and nearing the bottom of her glass.

Millie snorted at her comment and nearly spat out her drink. Both girls broke into a fit of giggles as they continued to sip on their straws.

"Hey," Meadow said defensively. "I heard that."

"Who says you weren't supposed to?"

Miles looked at his wife. A small smile was on her lips and he could tell they both had the same thing in mind. 10 years had gone by, but not much had changed. Still bickering and fighting like siblings do, but when push came to shove, they chose family above all else.

"All right, let's make an exception," Miles said, stepping in seamlessly as the peace-making parental figure. "Just this one time."

Meadow smiled, satisfied that she had gotten her way. Markos mixed up the drinks and passed them around to everyone, not a single person left out. They raised their glasses. A toast to the first, true Tarby family reunion.