[30 Days of Fic - Day 2] "For Love."
Day two of Thirty Days of Fiction; "Write a Scene with a Drunken Mythological Figure."
"But Momma," Jenny murmured with a coy grin on her face, "I thought... wasn't Pan drunk in all of his stories? "
She laughed, "No, babygirl, he was drinking in all of his stories. Wine, women and song." She murmured softly, her eyes fading into the middle distance.
"Momma?"
"I'm sorry Jen," she smiled again, meeting her daughter's eyes. "Pan is a god of libation and of carnality... but he was not always drunk. This time, though."
Jenny's eyes were locked tightly on her, "This time? Come on Mom, just tell the story."
A warm smile spread across Natalie's face. "It was at McSorley's Bar."
"On Second Street," She replied incredulously, "here in town."
"Sixteen years ago."
"Just before I was born?" Jenny squeaked.
"The music was loud and raucous, the drink flowing like water. It was an open bar; a cast party for a show down at the Irish theatre company. I don't even remember what the show was, but, that night, the way the drink was flowing, I don't even think the actors cared."
She stood, moving from the couch into the kitchen, pouring herself a coup of coffee. "All of a sudden, there was a gust of wind that moved through the bar. With it came a new... emphasis. The beat of the music was louder, the heat more intense." Natalie was almost writhing as she stood, her eyes closed.
"Mom!" Jenny screamed, horrified to see her mother writhe; moms weren't supposed to writhe!
Her eyes opened and she smiled at her, "Pan walks into the room."
"You're saying a God walked into a bar on Second Street." Jenny replied cautiously.
"I know what I saw. He was drinking from a bota that hung off his shoulder and started playing a tune on a set of pipes. Sure, his legs were fully clothed but there was this... animal grace to him. He came in and the song swirled around him, and before long... it had all descended into rich decadence. I never drank so much in my life, and haven't since." She smiled a wicked little smile and got that far off look in her eyes once again.
"You can't be serious..." Jenny murmured, staring at her mother like she'd grown a second head.
"And nine months later..." Natalie started, before being interupted by a perfectly thrown throw pillow.
"Mom!"
She started cackling, "No, dear, that was eleven months later. But that IS the night I met your father, after all."
"So... that's the reason you keep a shrine to Pan?" Jenny asked, "Because he introduced you to my lout of a father?"
"No, sweetling," She smiled and brought her daughter a cup of coffee, "It's because if that night hadn't happened, I wouldn't have had you."
"But Momma," Jenny murmured with a coy grin on her face, "I thought... wasn't Pan drunk in all of his stories? "
She laughed, "No, babygirl, he was drinking in all of his stories. Wine, women and song." She murmured softly, her eyes fading into the middle distance.
"Momma?"
"I'm sorry Jen," she smiled again, meeting her daughter's eyes. "Pan is a god of libation and of carnality... but he was not always drunk. This time, though."
Jenny's eyes were locked tightly on her, "This time? Come on Mom, just tell the story."
A warm smile spread across Natalie's face. "It was at McSorley's Bar."
"On Second Street," She replied incredulously, "here in town."
"Sixteen years ago."
"Just before I was born?" Jenny squeaked.
"The music was loud and raucous, the drink flowing like water. It was an open bar; a cast party for a show down at the Irish theatre company. I don't even remember what the show was, but, that night, the way the drink was flowing, I don't even think the actors cared."
She stood, moving from the couch into the kitchen, pouring herself a coup of coffee. "All of a sudden, there was a gust of wind that moved through the bar. With it came a new... emphasis. The beat of the music was louder, the heat more intense." Natalie was almost writhing as she stood, her eyes closed.
"Mom!" Jenny screamed, horrified to see her mother writhe; moms weren't supposed to writhe!
Her eyes opened and she smiled at her, "Pan walks into the room."
"You're saying a God walked into a bar on Second Street." Jenny replied cautiously.
"I know what I saw. He was drinking from a bota that hung off his shoulder and started playing a tune on a set of pipes. Sure, his legs were fully clothed but there was this... animal grace to him. He came in and the song swirled around him, and before long... it had all descended into rich decadence. I never drank so much in my life, and haven't since." She smiled a wicked little smile and got that far off look in her eyes once again.
"You can't be serious..." Jenny murmured, staring at her mother like she'd grown a second head.
"And nine months later..." Natalie started, before being interupted by a perfectly thrown throw pillow.
"Mom!"
She started cackling, "No, dear, that was eleven months later. But that IS the night I met your father, after all."
"So... that's the reason you keep a shrine to Pan?" Jenny asked, "Because he introduced you to my lout of a father?"
"No, sweetling," She smiled and brought her daughter a cup of coffee, "It's because if that night hadn't happened, I wouldn't have had you."