We Gather Together



"I did it all for the Nookie!  The Nookie!" 

 

I grab the microphone from my sister's hand.  "Okay, that's enough."

 

"C'mon Lis," chuckles Maggie as she flips through her sheet music.  "Don't you wanna know what I do with the cookie?"

 

"Ha ha - no," I flip open my own pages.  "Where did you get this music from?"

 

She shrugs.  "Jessica Lovejoy."

 

I groan.  "Maggie!  Jessica doesn't enjoy romantic music!"

 

"I just told her to toss a bunch of sheet music in a bag.  Why didn't you bring anything?"

 

"It's finals season," I explain weakly.  "Both the kids just got over the flu, and Thel and I have been baking all week.  I can almost remember my own name."

 

Maggie gapes at me.  "My sister, Lisa Simpson-MacArdle, the most responsible woman ever, is cracking under pressure?" My expression must give her a reason to give pause, for she pats my shoulder.  "We'll come up with something." She shades her eyes with a spread-open palm.  The mainstage of the BiMonSciFiCon is washed out with bright white light, making it easy to read but hard to see within a foot of the stage.  She and I notice simultaneously that Bart's entered the room, carrying a large box of soda.

 

"BART!" we both yell, waving at him - he tries to wave back, but opts to put the soda on the refreshment table.

 

"Hey," he squinted through the light.  "I can't really see either of you, so I'll just talk in your direction."

 

Maggie rolls her eyes.  "It was nice of you to ask us to sing at your wedding, but I wish you would tell us what you'd like to hear."

 

"Eh - we like to rock," Bart shrugs.

 

"Helpful," I glower.

 

"I dunno!  Pick something fast, but kinda slow - and nothing with a bunch of girly lyrics about feeling love or some junk."

 

"That makes it just a million songs to look through, instead of two," replied Maggie.

 

"You're my sisters," Bart cajoles.  "You know what I like."

 

"Do we?" I reply.

 

"Yeah!" he heads off in the direction of the dressing area.  "I gotta go get into my super suit!"

 

Maggie watches our brother with unmasked amusement.  "I really don't want to see him in spandex."

 

"One of those things we do for love," I chuckle.  "You take the 'a's'," I point at a random pile of sheet music.  "I'll take the 'b's'."

 

***

 

I nervously re-adjust my bright red cape as Mom helps Alison plait her brown hair with pink ribbons.  Maggie, clearly enamored of her suit, which was spray-pained all over with bright red flames.

 

"You look - better than I do - Mags," I smile.

 

"Heck," she grinned at the image before her, "I ought to take this home with me.  I could use the lasso.  Maybe I'll rope me a new guy at Moe's tonight."

 

My mother grumbles, disquieted, but says nothing else.  She finishes her end of the plait and smoothly connects Ruth's with her own, making one solid ponytail of reddish brown hair.  "There we go!"

 

I make way so that Laura can look into the mirror - she wears spandex well, better than I.  Her expression, however, shows that this wedding is Bart's idea. 

 

"You look great," Ruth says.  There's a quiet play of emotions on Missus Power's face - subdued, because it's not Laura's first wedding, but tender, because it's the one she hopes will count. 

 

"Thanks, mom," the stress Laura's been through quavers in her voice.  She clears her throat.  "Marge, is it time?"

 

"Almost," Mom says, getting up off of the sofa.  "Maggie?" 

 

Her eyes spring to life.  "Whoops." She walks over to her gym bag and pulls out a wrapped package.  I've been so distracted that I'd also forgotten about the gift mom, Maggie and I had picked out for Laura.  She takes the package, tearing eagerly into the paper.  Inside is a gold plated necklace with a bright green gemstone at the center.

 

"It was my mother's," Mom explains.  "She collected baubles, and I thought this one suited you -"

 

"- and I took it to the jewelers to get it put into a better setting."  Maggie explains.

 

"It's gorgeous," Laura says.  She pulls her ponytail out of the way, and Ruth - the person standing closest to her, picks up the necklace and clasps it.  On seeing herself in the mirror, she wraps her arms around my mother and Ruth.  "I'm marrying into the best family ever!"

 

"Can I get in on this hug?" I ask, and find myself embraced.  Maggie joins us in the impromptu huddle - which is broken by the sound of the wedding march being played by two guitarists in the style of Judas Priest.

 

"Wedding time!" my mother sings cheerfully.  She produces a bouquet of flowers for each of us to hold from a paper box and sends us down the hallway. 

 

Outside, there are four people with headsets - all members of the Con staff - who point us up the concrete tunnel and to the convention center's floor.  I walk behind Maggie and Mom, the defacto maid of honor.  Despite being behind them the light is bright and obliterating as I step onto the red runner on the convention floor.

 

Bart had arranged for the ceremony to take place on the convention main stage, behind a jumbotron flashing "Free Worker and Parasite!" every five seconds and right next to a booth featuring large reams of manga.  Getting to the staging area of the ceremony requires climbing a ramp, elevating me slightly above the surrounding crowd, who have been organized into two sections and cordoned off by velvet ropes.

 

I feel exposed and shy as I walk toward my brother,  who stands in his Radioactive Man costum and wears  an obnoxious smirk that tells me he's loving every minute of this. 

 

The guitars vibrato becomes almost grating as Laura arrives on the scene, hanging onto Ruth's arm but staring straight into Bart's eyes.  I'm once more stricken by the rightness I feel in their being together.  As they hold hands, Bart makes a silly face, Laura laughs - but both are silenced by Reverend Lovejoy, who coughs as he pulls aside his mole man costume and opens his bible.

 

My mind drifts away as the ceremony progresses - despite my brother's inventiveness, I'm already thinking of the reception and changing into something comfortable.

 

Scanning the crowd for familiar faces, I recognize Jessica Lovejoy and feel a wave of panic.  I had suggested to Laura that she not invite her finace's ex-girlfriend to the wedding, but she felt Bart and Laura had parted on bad terms and should make a true, clean break of things.  I understand that she's been having problems deciding between following her father into religion - something the Reverend wants, something that she clearly doesn't - and continuing to act.  She does look every bit the actress in her brick red lipstick and large picture hat.  Perhaps she's come as Catwoman - or trying to get cast in something brighter than a lead with the Ogdenville Players.  She seems less than happy in the cast photo taken for her performance as Clara opposite Ralph Wiggum as Mick in a production of  A Wooden Heart at New Ogdenville Playhouse.

 

It's Ralph, surprisingly dapper though still pumpkin-like, who's impressive today.  He stands stiffly beside my brother, an usher to Milhouse's best man.  Time in England has given him a regal carriage, necessary because everyone here seemed to know his name, or the intellectuals like me who watch PBS did.  It's odd that Ralph's career is just beginning, while the acting world considers Jessica's career to be over.  They're the same age, and yet the ridiculous chestnut that women our age can't play leads in Hollywood still remains popular.  It's childish and sexist, and yet Jessica nearly makes herself a victim to her father's ideals. 

 

Next to Jessica sits her date - Todd Flanders.  According to Helen Lovejoy, who can't resist gossiping to my mother about her daughter, they've been dating for a month now, and she expects a proposal from Todd soon.  Todd himself has been trying to keep a distance from his father, who watches the young couple with unseemly eagerness.

 

Closer to the front of the audience is Nelson Muntz, wearing a stained tie with a pink flamingo on it.  I haven't seen him since Indio graduated - and judging from the tobacco stains on his fingernails and thinning hair, the time between has been hard for him.  I had him seated next to Allison at the reception - stylish as ever, she didn't seem to mind the idea of being paired with someone so uncouth. 

 

At the very front, sandwiched between Aunt Selma and Uncle Jeff, sits Ling, my sister's best friend and our cousin.  She savors her time in Springfield so well that I wonder if San Francisco brings her any joy at all. 

 

Then, at the back of the audience, I hear a commotion.  My eyes are drawn to a stocky figure with conical spikes of hair pressing her way into the crowd.  I squint through the bright lights to get a better look and begin to pick out features.  Astonishment touches me.  It's Sophie Krustofsky!

 

"I now pronounce you man and wife.  You may kiss the bride!"

 

I whirl back to the ceremony, just in time to see my brother plant a kiss on Laura's mouth, to the loud hooting of the audience.

 

***

 

I pick a random glass of champagne from a tray proffered by a tuxedoed waiter.  Around me, the reception swings in full force - the hired band plays something kicky, the dance floor is crowded, and all of the finger sandwiches are disappearing.  Bart had chosen wisely after all - the conference room was big enough to party in, and just close enough to the convention that travel between the two floors can be easily achieved.   

 

I watch my husband dance with our daughter and grin, raising my glass to him, and he waves back before Antonia pulls him into a wider swing.  My eyes drift over the scene, looking for Dante - whom I find trying to dance with his Great Aunt Patty, being forced to follow while she leads.

 

Without a partner, I drift toward the banquet table and begin to put together a plate.  Someone pokes me in the shoulder and I turn around.

 

"Hi, Milhouse," I say breezily.

 

"Oh, hi, Lisa - sorry, I thought you were someone else."

 

How flattering!  I remember that he was once-upon-a-time infatuated with me and am embarrassed by my own egoist.  "Are you looking for Sam Stanky?"

 

His face lit up.  He and Samantha had found one another again through an online dating service, purely by chance - unfortunately, she already had a commitment to Bart's wedding at the time of their meeting, and is attending with Rod Flanders.  "Yeah!"

 

"I think I saw her by the band-" he disappears into the crowd,  "-stand."  Huh!  I return to my platter and nearly get enough dip on my plate before another touch disrupts me.

 

"Lisa!" cries Sophie Krustofsky.

 

"Sophie!" I embraced her.  "Oh, I haven't seen you since commencement!  How are you?"

 

"Well," she says.  "You're a mom!"

 

"I know!"  I chuckle.  "What have you been up to?"

 

"I'm on the New York Symphony," she confessed.  "First chair soloist."

 

"Oh!  You'd always wanted that!" Music was all Sophie and I used to talk about in high school. 

 

"I'm glad you became a teacher - I always knew you would," she replies. 

 

"I was never that sure," I reply, but my minor spurt of wit is lost to the wind as Sophie's eyes drift elsewhere.

 

When I look over my shoulder, she staring at Nelson Mundtz.

 

"Why don't you go over to him?"

 

"No - I don't think I could do that.   I only came back to see my father and to celebrate Bart's wedding."

 

"You're still not over what he did to you?" 

 

"It's hard to get over your first romantic betrayal," she turns back to the buffet table and selects a marzipan strawberry. 

 

"I know," I say.  "I have my own experiences."

 

"Maybe we should stay in touch this time."

 

"I'd love to -" 

 

"LISA," exclaimed Maggie, whirling me around and pulling at my left arm.  "We're on!  And I think I found the perfect song."

 

"Come to my table before you leave and give me your email address!" 

 

She waves and nods as Maggie drags me over to the stage and helps me climb up onto it.  I strap on my sax, adjusting the spit valve.  "What's the idea?"  She whispers into my ear.  Perfect.

 

"Okay," I say into my microphone.  "This song is for my brother Bart, and my new sister-in-law Laura!  May they always...eat Kraft dinner."

 

"WOO!" shouts Nelson from the back of the room.

 

I bring my sax up to mouth level.  Already, the band has begun to play our gentle accompaniment.  Before I blow my first note, I see our friends and families, dancing together, swimming in the crowd, laughing, smiling, enjoying themselves.  My people.  My family.  Springfield.

 

Maggie bows over the microphone and sings, in her lovely soprano, "If I Had a Million Dollars…”


The End