Despite some inelegant phrasing Lemonlight was moved by Yeouh’s acceptance speech for her role in the movie “Everything Everywhere All At Once,” where she told older women: “And, ladies, don’t ever let anyone tell you you are ever past your prime. Never give up!”  

“Yeah,” Lemonlight said. “I let life get away from me. But in my defense, my dad was constantly into the Black Velvet and yelling about shoes in the hallway, screen doors being left open and all kinds of other nonsense. And nothing was ever good enough for my mom—from the way I folded towels to how I chewed my Cheerios. I had to get out of there and most of the time that meant going to the park and having wine and all those delicious Amherst middle-school boys.

Then, all of the sudden, I wake up and I’m graduating high school and taking a job in the mailroom at Delaware North.”

Since she doesn’t have the bone structure of a model and is a little bigger than Yeouh’s size zero, Lemonlight doesn’t think being an actress is plausible. She also isn’t waiting for Prince William to suddenly sack Kate Middleton, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility that she could move from Accounts Receivable to Accounts Payable. “In receivables you have to be kind of an ass kisser, thanking everyone for their remittance and telling them to have a great day. But in payables it’s a different story. You can rip people a new one, complain about their bullshit services and tell them they’ll get their payments when they get them.”

Lemonlight thinks such a change could lead to her being more focused and help her to achieve some new goals. “Who knows where this could go. My friend Renee just became an assistant manager at Transit Lanes and she’s a total badass. She does everything from organizing the senior citizen leagues, to prepping for kids birthday parties to throwing the occasional drunk out into the parking lot—I could so see myself in that kind of role.”

She’ll also get a chance to achieve another goal this summer when the Amherst High School class of 1983 has its 40th reunion. Besides having fun tossing back a few White Claws—Boone’s Farms big brother—and talking to old friends she hopes to find her old make out pal Sully and show him just how far she’s come since those Dellwood Park days. Sully is a FedEx Operations Manager, he has a 401K and five weeks—yes five weeks—of vacation. 

Till then Lemonlight is checking the job postings at Delaware North daily for a spot in Accounts Payables or some other position. 

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Reagan & Zadie: After The Fox Hunt

Lincolnshire, England—The rain had cleared and the dogs were exhausted. It had been a frustrating fox hunt and the sisters-in-laws, Reagan and Zadie were also quite fatigued and grungy after riding all day through the muddy Lincolnshire countryside. The hunt was made especially frustrating by the fact fox hunting had been banned since 2003 in Great Britain, but traditions being what they are in a country that endows untold riches upon a pretend magic family—the women dutifully chased ghosts all day long.

 At the conclusion of the sham hunt with the sun finally breaking through Reagan and Zadie dismounted from their steeds and began to walk side by side toward the stables. They moved at a comfortable pace occasionally looking at each other and smiling as they walked.

“William and I have so missed you and Harry since you’ve stepped back,” Zadie said looking at the ground.

“And us you. Little Archie is desperate for his Aunt Zadie.”

They handed off their horses to their Irish attendants and lingered for a moment, the light from the fading sun dancing across their lovely faces. 

“Are you celebrating Valentine’s Day in America?” Zadie asked.

“Yes,” Reagan said with an impish grin. “We’re attending an event at George Clooney’s house. People in America are calling us the new Obamas. Supposedly, they’re going to throw loads of money at us.

“I’ve heard. I’m so envious—George Clooney.”

“And, you and William . . . how will you observe Valentine’s Day?”

“Oh, I imagine he’ll cover me in diamonds and such. Same old boring thing.”

Just then one of the Irish attendants emerged from the stable and reported to Princess Zadie that her steed was ready to be brushed out. 

“Since when do you brush out your own horse?” 

“Oh I don’t know. I’ve been reading some Marianne Williamson and have been feeling quite empowered. I have a glass of wine and work out all of Polly’s kinks. It’s so therapeutic and Polly loves it. You must join me.”

“Oh I would, but Harry needs me to attend some Cayman Island banking seminar in the morning and I’m dreadfully tired.”

“Never-you-mind. You must join me. I insist.” Turning to the attendant she said, “Sean, a glass of chardonnay for my sister.”

A moment later they were standing in the muted light of the roomy stall with straw beneath their riding boots and Reagan asked, as she vigorously brushed out Polly’s barrel, “Do you ever get used to the smell?”

Zadie was working the opposite side of the horse said, “Oh yes, with a bit of time it goes from rancid to tolerably rancid” 

The two sisters laughed, then sipped from their chardonnay and moved toward the rear end or gaskin of the horse. It was there that Zadie noticed some spots on Reagan’s riding pants.

“Oh dear, your posterior is all mucky.”

“I beg your pardon, ” Reagan laughed. Her head light from the wine. 

“No, no . . . just a few spots from the ride. Let’s see if I can loosen it up,” she said, setting her brush on the stall ledge with her wine.

She came over and the moment she placed her slender fingers on the soiled area Reagan involuntarily gasped, which in turn, sent shivers up Zadie’s spine. As Zadie gently worked the area Reagan began to pant slightly. Zadie moved her free hand to Reagan’s hip and pulled her posterior up against her mid-section. In that position she could smell the intoxicating aroma of Reagan’s lustrous black hair. Still holding her hip she slowly moved her free hand up to the small of her back and then gradually inched upward as Reagan’s panting became more acute.

“You’re so tense dear,” Zadie whispered as she caressed her sister-in-law’s back. Proceeding, as Reagan breathing became more hurried she said, “The silly tabloids reports of a feud between us—I could never feud with you. You’ve been the most welcome addition to this dreary family.”

Just then, above the panting Zadie heard footsteps and without looking up said, as she continued to hold Regan’s body close while massaging her back, “Sean, we’ve enough wine. That will be all.”

But the footsteps continued, “Sean,” Zadie said growing irritated. 

Suddenly the footsteps stopped and the man at the stall opening said, “I’m not Sean. I’m Harry.”

By Harry Windsor.

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